Evelyn knows what Solas means to do as soon as he stalks towards the group of mages. She can see the fury in the line of his shoulders, hear it slipping past his usual reign of control.
She could reach out, say something. He always listens to her, no matter how different their opinions end up being. He would listen now.
But she stays silent. She keeps her hands still, lets him stalk past her.
It feels wrong, but how can she stop him?
She remembers the rage that boiled up during the Circle uprisings. She remembers the feeling of stumbling over the bodies of those she considered friends. How she’d hated the Templars then. Fighting to escape the Tower, taking what they could with them, destroying any Templars that stood in their way...it had felt good. To finally lash out and stop hiding her feelings for fear of repercussions.
How can she now deny Solas his rage? Would she not do the same to anyone who tortured her friends?
The smell of burning flesh makes her flinch. The void of silence follows them back to camp, even in Solas’ absence. She’s glad no one else decides to speak.