Hospital
Shiva awoke to a loud rapping on her door. Groggy and tired-eyed, she slid out of bed onto the floor, landing on her rear with a loud thump. Mumbling profanities, she slowly stood up.
"Just a minute!" she shouted at the door, her voice cracking. She passed by her mirror, noticing that she hadn't bothered to remove her makeup from the night before. Quickly, she found a makeup-removing wipe to try to fix her looks, but her eyes remained stubbornly grayed with smudged liner.
She sluggishly made her way to the door, not bothering to check the peephole before opening. Who she opened the door to gave her the shock of her life.
A tall, slim man stood in front of her. He was sharply dressed, wearing a fitted gray suit, and it took a moment for Shiva to recognize him without the medical mask and scrubs she was so used to seeing him in.
"Doc?" She questioned, visibly uncomfortable by the surprise house call. "You don’t exist outside of the hospital. What's going on? Why are you here?" she took a step back into her home and held the door handle tightly.
"I would prefer 'Doctor Otsoa'." he responded irritably. "I suppose your visits to emergency care have been frequent enough for me to be considered your doctor. But that isn't why I'm here."
"No, no, wait a moment." Shiva stepped forward, facing him head on. Or, well, as close as she could get. Doctor Otsoa nearly two feet taller than her. "What's your name? Your first name, I mean?"
He sighed irritably. "I suppose you don't read your hospital invoices, then." He mumbled. "My first name is Solas." He stated. "However, I-"
"So you are Dalish, yeah?" Shiva cut him off. "That's Elvhen. Were you adopted, or something?" she narrowed her eyes. "...Married, perhaps?"
"Irrelevant." He huffed, clearly frustrated at the detour in conversation. "I came only to give you back this." He picked up a black messenger bag from behind him, and tossed it on her welcome mat.
"How did you-" She leant forward and peeked inside the bag quickly. "Where did you find this?" she demanded instantly, snatching the bag.
"You left this at the party." He looked at her like she was an idiot. "I found this at a booth in the back, and I figured that it must belong to you."
"I never..." Shiva's eyes trailed to her bag, suspiciously. "Did you look through it?" She knew the answer before he responded.
"I had to." He responded. "I needed to figure out who it belonged to. What would you suggest I should have done? Left it to be stolen by another?" He shook his head, frustrated. "I came here to return your bag, and instead I find myself being interrogated by a child."
"A child?" Shiva hissed. The word stung against her lips. "Has anyone ever told you that you're an asshole?" she spat aggressively. Solas snorted.
"You aren't the first." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Look, I came here just to give this to you." He repeated. "I'll be on my way." He turned to leave yet again.
"Wait!" Shiva stopped him, holding up a hand hesitantly. He stopped walking and peered over his shoulder at her. "Why were you even there? You got a square job, why’d you chill with that crowd?" She cleared her throat in the following silence, feeling uncomfortable.
Solas let out a sharp laugh. "You assume that I don't like to have fun, too." He shook his head, and headed off to his car. Shiva watched him leave and closed the door slowly, not taking her eyes off him.
Something was fishy. She wasn't sure what that could mean, but her mind was filled with wild possibilities and speculations for the rest of the evening.
***
"Doctor Otsoa."
"Yes?"
"There's another one in the lobby. Can I send her in yet?"
"Go ahead." Solas sighed, rubbing his temples as the nurse left his office. Another one? When will people realize that dracolisks are wild animals, he wondered. He had been primarily treating burns all morning so far, thanks to what Solas assumed was a foolish merchant who had attempted (and failed) to domesticate these beasts. He stood up from his soft leather chair, and moved to the door. Another day spent fixing the messes of others. Nothing new for him.
As he entered the examination room, he saw a small Elvhen girl with her hand wrapped in a damp towel looking sadly at the ground.
"So, ah..." He flipped through her chart briefly. "...Merrill, is it? What brings you in today?"
"Oh!" She seemed startled at his presence, though he hadn't been particularly quiet upon entering the room. "I've got a-"
"Burn." Solas finished for her, sighing and looking through his chart again. "I've read your paperwork. This is the dracolisk problem, from what I understand?" He tutted in disapproval quietly as he started to fetch the various supplies he needed from around the room.
"Well, yes. No." Merrill hesitated, looking at Solas with an expression of fear. "It's- I-..." She trailed off nervously.
"Well?" He rolled his eyes out of sight from her.
"Hawke was trying to... Oh, please, don't get her in trouble!" Merrill looked worried.
Solas held up a hand to stop her. "Was it a dracolisk?" He asked simply. She nodded fervently. "Did it bite you?" He followed up. She nodded again. He set himself to work on patching her up. She winced as he applied the antibiotic cream, and he noticed that the bite was not only quite deep, but infected as well.
"Were you trying to... pet it?" He asked incredulously. Merrill looked to the side, ashamed. Solas sighed once more, and finished dressing the wound.
"Doctor?" She confronted him nervously. He turned to meet her gaze. "Where are your..." She stared at his face. "You don't act like a city elf, I mean..." It took him a moment, but then he suddenly understood.
"That's personal." He snapped. "Not all elves follow your antiquated traditions." He held the door open. "You may leave."
"Oh, I, ah..." She fumbled with her fingers nervously as she stood up. "I'm so sorry, I just-"
"Out." His patience was wearing thin. She skittered out of the room, and he slammed the door behind him.
Why were all of the elves he met so obsessed with being an elf? It didn't make sense to him. There was something shameful about it. Something left unsaid. The vallaslin, such as Merrill was alluding to, were getting so popular that even the non-elves were getting them as a fashion statement. It disgusted him. Those markings were more than a trend, and he felt sick to his stomach whenever he saw a youth parading their new tattoos around as though they meant something good. He knew better.
After taking a few moments to breathe deeply through his frustrations. he left the room and headed towards the hospital cafeteria. It wasn't a busy hour yet, and he found it much easier to get his food than usual. As he paid for a bag of chips and a drink, he noticed a familiar face at a table nearby.
"Hey, Solas!" A tiny hand shot up in his peripheral vision. Shiva waved at him wildly. Across from her sat a mildly embarrassed Anders, hiding his face in his hands.
"I'd prefer if you'd not call me by my first name." He instructed, but his words fell on deaf ears. She waved her bandaged hand at him again.
"Maybe I'll see you at one of those parties, eh, Solas?" She winked. He sighed disgustedly.
"I will be seeing you to get those stitches out, Lavellan." He straightened his posture subconsciously. "And, please. I am at my work. Refer to me as Doctor Otsoa."
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Whatever, ha'hren." She resumed her meal, which he noticed was a home-packed lunch she shared with the nurse. He felt his expression soften as Anders let out a groan and plucked the sausage off of her raised fork.
"That's for antagonizing my boss." He popped it into his mouth, and Shiva stared at him, her expression stunned with the fork still raised to her lips. Solas chuckled quietly as he walked away. He hadn't always liked Anders, but his personality had grown on him. Not unlike a fungus.
Solas could hear the two friends bickering at their table as the doors to the cafeteria swung shut behind him. He let out a breath of air he didn't realize he had been holding.
It could be worse, he decided as he closed the door to his office.