[ She takes the compliment for what it is, and is proud enough to accept it and not deny that she has done her best. But there is a small smile at the corner of her mouth when she admits, truthfully: ]
I've always had support from the people around me.
[ Solas' knowledge and tutelage, Leliana's guidance, Cassandra's drive, Bull's strength and conviction, Cole's kindness. Every one of them has changed her. Solas once said that Corypheus had changed the Inquisition and her in one fell blow. But she knows, truthfully, that the Inquisition and its people have changed her, have given her freedom and support when she had none, and allowed her to look at the world with new eyes and an open heart.
As much as it pains her to admit, what she experienced with her clan pales in comparison. She thinks Solas would revel in that truth, if she were to say it, but she does not. Not at this juncture.
But it's strange, here, to see Solas toeing some invisible line between them, as if he cannot decide what he wants. Or is he testing her, seeing her set the boundary between them? Nasrin watches him, curious, and she huffs out a breath of a laugh. ]
Do you think that poorly of yourself, Solas?
[ It's a quiet bit of teasing, more of a true question than a jab, and she sobers somewhat before she speaks again. ]
I think there's something to be said for an apostate who remains to help the people who would see him captured or even executed. You risked yourself for the Inquisition, for the breach. [ For her. Watching over her, studying the mark, even as it began to kill her. ] That isn't selfishness. That, to me, is dedication. And I admire you for it.
[ It is not entirely selfless, she knows. But it is intelligent, it is honest, and it is generous. She knows of very few others who would stay from the beginning, who would see his task through. Carefully, Nasrin takes his other hand and holds it, so that they may now face each other, so she might look into his face, into his smile and his eyes, and bask in his warmth and presence. ]
I'm not worried about the danger. Whatever comes, I will face it. And I want to face it with you.
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I've always had support from the people around me.
[ Solas' knowledge and tutelage, Leliana's guidance, Cassandra's drive, Bull's strength and conviction, Cole's kindness. Every one of them has changed her. Solas once said that Corypheus had changed the Inquisition and her in one fell blow. But she knows, truthfully, that the Inquisition and its people have changed her, have given her freedom and support when she had none, and allowed her to look at the world with new eyes and an open heart.
As much as it pains her to admit, what she experienced with her clan pales in comparison. She thinks Solas would revel in that truth, if she were to say it, but she does not. Not at this juncture.
But it's strange, here, to see Solas toeing some invisible line between them, as if he cannot decide what he wants. Or is he testing her, seeing her set the boundary between them? Nasrin watches him, curious, and she huffs out a breath of a laugh. ]
Do you think that poorly of yourself, Solas?
[ It's a quiet bit of teasing, more of a true question than a jab, and she sobers somewhat before she speaks again. ]
I think there's something to be said for an apostate who remains to help the people who would see him captured or even executed. You risked yourself for the Inquisition, for the breach. [ For her. Watching over her, studying the mark, even as it began to kill her. ] That isn't selfishness. That, to me, is dedication. And I admire you for it.
[ It is not entirely selfless, she knows. But it is intelligent, it is honest, and it is generous. She knows of very few others who would stay from the beginning, who would see his task through. Carefully, Nasrin takes his other hand and holds it, so that they may now face each other, so she might look into his face, into his smile and his eyes, and bask in his warmth and presence. ]
I'm not worried about the danger. Whatever comes, I will face it. And I want to face it with you.