estoria | OPEN

Who:

fadeling & Whoever
When: IC 8/1
Where: Shopping district
What: Cole has been avoiding people, if you want to talk to him now's probably the best time for an ambush
Rating/Warning:G/PG - No warnings so far

It isn't hard for him to avoid people--they don't see him if he doesn't want them to. And it was easier for everyone if he did for a while. He couldn't help and if he tried he might have put his hurt on them. Then he would be worse than what they'd already said he was.

And that circular logic ran itself around in his head until he was dizzy. He can't hurt anyone or it wouldn't be him. He's still him so he can't have hurt anyone.

But what if he had? He helped and he left them healed behind him, he thought, but...

But.

But he can't stay to see, there are too many others who need help. And if he hindered instead of healed, that was hurting them too. He was supposed to help people. Was he helping people? He couldn't tell anymore. It was all cluttered, unclear and clouded, cloying and clawing and clutching coy at clinging. It was hard to see through, hard to think through, hard to see, hard to hear. It hurt to look at but he couldn't look anywhere else.

He's not the one who's supposed to hurt, to be conflicted. He was only one thing, how could he do that wrong?

He crouched in the middle of the street, passersby flowing around him, not noticing that they even moved around him, but not seeing him either. That was part of it, too, and he didn't want to be noticed. He could still hear the hurting, but he hesitated, trying not to listen, trying to lose himself in the sounds of it. Maybe if there was too much to listen to, he could forget himself for a moment. Maybe if he couldn't pull it apart, he wouldn't have to try and then he wouldn't hurt anyone.

It really wasn't working.

"Touch and try and hurt or don't touch and don't try and don't hurt. Or touch and don't hurt. Too many threads, tied together tight in tiny tangles."

But they'd caught him in them, too when he was supposed to be clean. He couldn't even tell if he was that anymore.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Her optimism was hard to ignore, calling clear and clarion, pulling him back from edges toward the solid ground again. It was still hard to see, still fuzzy, but... better. Better than it had been.

He could practically feel the warmth of her conviction flowing from her hands into his. As uncomfortable as the touch was, he almost craved it now. Now he didn't want to let go.

"You burn, bright but... beautiful. Thank you. For helping."

"Of course. I'll always be here to help, Cole." Lavellan beams, keeping her hands tight over his until he feels comfortable enough to pull away. With her, nothing is ever forced, and if it is, it's usually for a good reason. Usually. There's room for debate there.

"And I appreciate the compliment."

She pauses.

"...At least, I believe that was a compliment."

"Yes." It was a strange compliment, but it matches him, really. The words are hard to find and they always have been; the feelings are easier. Those could only be one thing at a time.

Like him.

He stared at the mark for a few moments, transfixed and silent. It drew the Fade to it and he was part of it. If he looked too long he might fall into it too.

"It sings, too loudly to listen, but too bright to ignore. It pulls, pretty and petty, calling, claiming.

"It burns, sometimes. But it's you, too."

Being a part of her for such a long time (or at least it felt like such a long time), the mark hardly ever came to Lavellan's mind anymore outside of the essential closing of a Rift. These days cooped up in Cerealia, she had no reason to reflect on its presence. So when Cole brings up the topic in his unique, almost sing-song manner, she can't help the quick quirk of her eyebrow as she searches for his meaning, and comes across with momentary surprise.

"I suppose it is, isn't it?" Aeneth regards her hand and the mark it bears, "And as long as it's helping, I don't mind. Does it help you?"

Maybe, as a spirit, it affects him in different ways. At least, that's what she wonders.

"It doesn't hurt me." Which doesn't really answer the question and he knows it. It helps other people, but... it was frightening, sometimes, how easily the smaller spirits could get lost in it. It wasn't her fault, but it still happened. How long could he look at it before it drew him in too?

He forcibly tore his eyes away from it, looking back up at her face.

"It helps. Even when it's too loud. You make it help."

It never really crossed her mind how the mark's ability to banish demons back into the Fade could have the same adverse effect on a benevolent spirit like Cole. Granted, she's never had a reason to use it on him or any other kind spirits, but it's still a caveat she should have kept in mind. Lavellan's hand instinctively curls to hide the mark when Cole wrenches away his gaze, suddenly aware of its potential dangers to her friend.

"All right, good. Although, if you ever feel threatened by it, please let me know. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't." It was easier without the temptation to look, but the song always sung in his ears when she was near, the sibilant sighs whispering of the Fade he'd left behind. But she was using it to help people. He couldn't ever fault anyone for that.

"It helps. You help. So it won't hurt me."

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