forgotten in the spire...

The bed is empty but there's someone in it. A stranger. A face I do not know stares back at me and I say I love you. Nothing comes out.

Stark white bedsheets coiled cold around my shoulders. I pull it closer around me, the strange me that I am.

I knew you once. Didn't I? You say I love you and I do not hear it. Your voice chills to the bone. Strangers in a cold bed.

pink on white like blossoms in the snow

arms bare, bold, cold, careful, delicate

It once seemed so simple to untangle the knots of human hurt and heal what was lost underneath.

But now I'm the one who's hurting, twisting, tugging, fumbling. Strings tangled and tied up so tight I can't pull them loose...

My Inquisitor reminded me that, people are not spirits and... Pain stays.

What's that thing? Why's it just standin' there? Why won't it move, won't blink, won't eat, won't do anythin'. It's just wrong, I wish it would do SOMETHIN'!

She didn't like nothing, stillness, silence, suffocating, stiffling nothing.

And that's all I was for quite some time... I still liked her. Liked the gap in her teeth when she smiled, the snort when she laughed and how she made up words. She still didn't like me. She was still afraid of nothing.

One night it rained terribly, I saw Sera hurting badly. A knot tangled up in itself and pulled so tightly that I almost didn't try to undo it. Her heart broke over one of the cats passing, it had babies that were now cold and soaked to the bone, hungry and helpless. She felt so deeply and I offered to help, I was surprised that she actually let me.

When the others helped me feel more human I started to change, I got mad, reacted when she said something teasing and for the first time I saw a glint behind her eyes.

She smiled and teased me more. Varric told me later that it was a good thing, that she finally saw that I wasn't so bad.

The next few weeks were hard for me, eating and sleeping were new to me along with all of these emotions, the kinds I drew out when trying to help people.

Sera brought me cookies, said I had to try them now that I could. It made her happy that I liked them.

I scare Varric, he's upset, I didn't meant to. I'm used to this, clumsy hands always mending, trembling, fumbling, can't find where to stitch. Always poking, pricking, always ruby at the fingertips.

He tends to me, warm hands and soft words, tells me to be more careful, tells me he doesn't want me hurting.

Broad shoulders and taller than me but thin, white hair and a slim face, always smiling, always happy.

You used to sing and play and even though my voice was no good you let me sing along.

You had dimples when you laughed and parted your hair in the middle, tucked behind your pointed ears.

It was always back in a bun with two playful fiery curls twisting down on either side.

The tattoos were faded, crossing on the forehead and framing your face, leaving marks across your lips.