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Poppy Colored Nose

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Solas was not one to lose his composure. At least, not without the proper provocation. Rho certainly hadn’t seen him ruffled often, not even in the moments they spent alone. He was consistently put together.

But at this moment, he looked an absolute mess; eyes bloodshot, tears leaking from them with no intent to stop, lips pressed together in disgust, and nose tinged pink from irritation.

Sitting back on her haunches, Rhodeia regarded him with concern. She had offered her assistance previously, after the first sneeze had wracked Solas and his attempt to plant a flower. The peony had, subsequently, been launched into the air, only to land on a nearby bench. He refused insistently, however, in proper Solas fashion, despite his rapidly declining health. Rho questioned him only once thereafter, only to be shut down with a curt “no.” But it was clear that Solas was not feeling well, and the dark-haired elf would not let her observations go unnoticed.

“Solas. Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked once more, albeit pleadingly, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to relieve them of soil. And, oh, the look that he gave her. A look so fatigued, so disgruntled, so pathetic that Rho almost relented.

Almost.

“Come with me, I’ll continue this later. And no, please stop trying to clean up.” With much urging and persistence on Rho’s part, the two elves sat in his study, the smaller elf with a bucket of water between her thighs and a cloth in her hands.

Rho looked at him with intent, eyebrows raised and eyes accusing. “Well?”

“I may be a bit…sensitive to the particular flower that we–mostly you–were planting,” Solas admitted, his eyes pointedly not looking at hers. A rush a relief flew from the Dalish.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier, silly?” Rho asked, her voice scolding but her hands tender as she washed the soil from his hands. “I wouldn’t have even considered planting them if I’d known that." Solas attempted to laugh, but it instead came out as a sneeze.

"It was a bit difficult to, seeing as you would not stop going on about them.”

“Oh,” An apparent pink hue dusted Rho’s cheeks, her embarrassment increasing as the moments passed. “I…ir abelas.” Her behavior leaned toward the eccentric when it came to flowers, and this moment had clearly been no different.

“There’s no need,” Solas said, calming her worries with his damp hand over hers. “It was interesting, to say the least. I hadn’t thought them used to fend off demons. I ought to try them instead of wards.” Rho giggled quietly.

Their conversation quieted after that. Rho pressed her forehead to Solas’, nuzzling him gently.

“Get better soon, vhenan. The embrium will be blooming in a few weeks.” Rho told him, her voice playful. At his annoyed groan, she laughed, a light sound that trickled from the room and into the garden.