ᴄ ᴏ ᴍ ᴘ ᴀ s s ɪ ᴏ ɴ

          A thousand little lies bubble up at the back of her throat ——           so much she could say, could pretend to atone for ( pretend,           or not. all that she is is worthy of being atoned for. under the           eyes of the Maker, she is abomination and exalted both; mage           and savior, existing together. ) but none of them make it past           the suddenly clenched teeth. It’s just another reason to change           the subject, to inverse it —— go back to Cole, focus in on him,           look at him so as to not forget, like he asked, and it’s all a matter           of taking what sloshes around in her stomach and pushing it           down; one more thing for her to ignore. 

          She wants to touch him —— like family does, a hand on the            shoulder, an acknowledgement —— but before her fingers            can reach out she pulls them back again, settles at the chain           around her throat. Trevelyan tugs the necklace against her           skin like a shaky afterthought, a never you mind me. 

          Never you mind me, her head, turning, always turning ——            she told Josephine that the Templars didn’t bother her, them,            and she always slid from their view whenever she could,            mage-slippers scuffing against the floor. Never you mind me. 

         ”Never,” And she doesn’t mean it facetiously. To be forgotten          is an awful thing —— never seen, never heard, never known.          Putting it onto someone else, imposing it… there was something          heinous about the act of forgetting. Of not seeing. She wouldn’t,          couldn’t do that. “I promise —— I promise that I won’t ever           forget. Not unless… you make me.”

         That —— making someone forget —— that, at least, Trevelyan          could understand. The desire to want to be unremembered;           like a childhood memory, faded and distant and then suddenly          gone. Into the ether like smoke to the sky. As painful as it was          to be forgotten, sometimes it was easier for yourself, or someone          else. To be a memory neither painful or happy. To be a nothing,          instead. 

         The chain falls. Her hands go back to where she wants them to          be. Her side. Uncertain, but ready. Tingling defensively as though          she expects —— always expects —— to be cleaved in two. ( to           exist in twos —— herald, inquisitor. mage, human. exalt, heretic. )

         ”It’s… nothing. Everyone has something they need to make up          for, don’t they? It’s —— a part of being human.” 

         And maybe that doesn’t mean much, humanity, but it’s a truth that          doesn’t have to exist solely in this world. Mistakes transcend more          than just the physical, or so she thinks. They were universal, all-          encompassing, and… brutal. Mistakes were brutal. The headsman’s          axe. Something for her to swallow, and wait for. But nothing ever came.

    she pushes it aside (the thought) but cole doesn't     (can't) (can't ignore her feelings) (that hurt inside     her, feeling like less and less and how many mages     has he seen, how many has he sensed this feeling in,     this self-fear, magic exists to serve man and never     to rule over him but that doesn't mean the mages     need to hurt) (but he can pretend to ignore it because     bringing it up now will hurt her more than help)                                                                              (maybe later).

                 ' i won't make you forget me, ' he says instead,                    because he can't, not now. whatever she thinks                    of him, he thinks highly of her, she is good.

                                   she wants to help him,                                    promises not to forget him for him,                                    promises it through her uncertainty about him,                                    promises it even though he is a spirit                                                        ----and it does help, such a promise.                                                              it does.                                   for cole who seeks out hurts,                                   who is drawn to them the way                                   a demon is drawn to them but                                   for a very different purpose,                                   the sensation is somewhat familiar                                                                    and cole... well,                                                   he is not overly used to the turning of tables.

                                                         still, however, he is  g r a t e f u l.

        ' part of being  h u m a n , ' cole repeats carefully,                                                oh so carefully, as if the                                                words falling from his lips                                                might hurt him if he isn't careful.                           as if they could cut like knives.                           and he is thinking this: that if he listens,                           he can understand what humanity is.                            aside from atoning and absolution,                           and the chant of light.

    he wishes he could ask that. ask what humanity hurts like.     he knows only that it does. blessed are those who--                   then again, he wishes a lot-of-things so instead                   of horses that beggars would ride he shifts his                   weight from foot to foot and crosses his arms                   so he has something to do with them and prods                   the back of his teeth with his tongue, keeps quiet                   on that, instead he says this:

       ” You see anybody else needin’         arrows around here?! ”

   She is all anger and spikes, but the further back he steps the easier it is, the more the air no longer seems cluttered and thick. She let’s out a long breath, happily back within her own space and him almost all the way out of it.

      ” Now go bother somebody else,       not everybody wants your kind of help,       Cole. Best get used to it. “

    cole points to a soldier in the tavern,     sitting off in a corner and drinking alone.                                       ' she needs arrows, sometimes. '

                   which is probably irrelevant,                    and not related to sera's point,                    but he's not sure what her point is,                                she's difficult to make sense of when she speaks,                                her thoughts are easier, jumbled but in a way that                                can be sorted, made sense of, but no she hates that.

miseritus started following you

"Cole. What are you doing up there?"

His arms crossed his chest gently and he cocked his head a bit to the side; not in contempt but in mulling thought.

"A tie to the fade.. you’ve one as well, yes? Though not the kind that I have..”

The last bit wasn’t a question. Though his companion seemed to be a creature of the fade, he’d asked him for nothing [yet]. That could change at any time, but for the time being he would continue to speak with Cole in a civil manner. Perhaps he was a more benign interloper, something akin to the spirit Justice he’d known long ago.

    ' yes. i was there too long to not be tied to it, '

                     cole said as much with ease. he wasn't                      worried. if the elf meant harm, cole                      would respond in kind, but for now the                      conversation was friendly enough                             (and it's not as though cole was hiding what he was)                                             (he just wasn't announcing it).

          Not sure if it was actually a smile or not, she yet smiled at him.

                    ❝ At times it is frightening, like all                         dreams. There are good ones                         and nightmares. Sure, seeing                         my nightmares in…. a more                         colorful and real way, doesn’t                          make them better, but they are                         still just dreams, you know? They                         don’t actually harm me. ❞

         Joeliya nodded. Hearing from him that she had made the right           decision felt good. He was different since they came back and           she hadn’t been sure if it had been what he wanted. She and           the others had made that decision for him. There had been no           clue whether it was the right one or not beforehand.

                    ❝ I’m glad you feel that way. I wasn’t                         sure if you wanted to be more human                                   —— It must be strange that you can’t                                   make people forget you now. ❞

    ' good. some people have nightmares     that leave them shaking, shivering,     terrified. there's a soldier for the     inquisition that gets vivid ones, they     hurt him right in whatever's left when     you take away faith and duty.                                 he's very hard to help but i... try. '

                       cole nodded at her next words, grateful.                        he knew she had been uncertain, but he                        knew, too, that she had wanted to help                        him, and that there are good things about                        being human. like rhys, maybe, or evangeline.

"Hm, that is quite true but it does not bother me anymore. I know who I am now."

"I understand that you were trying to help," she replies, trying to find the answer in his words. "But can you tell me how the turnips helped?”

            She glances toward the other members of their             party, seemingly engrossed in a conversation             of their own. Good. Cassandra doesn’t need a             group of witnesses.

            It’s unfortunately difficult to lie to Cole. Sighing             with great force, she explains, 

            ❝ I… enjoy reading them, yes. But they                                       they’re terrible. ❞

    ' they aren't listening, ' cole says,      noticing where she'd glanced and      doing what he could to reassure her.      the others were otherwise occupied.

Festers. Well, that was one word for it; an apt one, at that. She ponders his next question, unsure of the answer.            Was she helping herself?  Finding purpose when she             thought she had lost it?  What of Starkhaven, the home             that was no longer a home; was she still helping them?            Still, in some way, doing her duty that she had held            dear?  What of Finley, apostate now, and free, but in            danger just by being in this world, was she helping            him?

         ”I… don’t know.  The world, maybe?           The Inquisition?  We need to work together           to win this.”

    cole nodded as he listened,     both to the words she said     and those she did not. her     uncertainty was, in a way,     a good answer in and of itself.

                         ' you're right. we do.                                   do you think...                                            the inquisition will keep helping after we win? '

Was it? It was something that she had asked herself. But it wasn’t something something she had to think about either, not really.” I think so.” There was an unexpected tone of confidence in her words. Skyhold, the Inquisition, its people this was more like home then anywhere she could ever hope to be.

"What about you Cole? Is this home for you, or is there somewhere you long to go back to when this is all over?” People had flocked to the Inquisition from all walks of Thedas. There were some however who would only remain while the threat at hand still played. Others like herself considered this place home, and saw nothing no other place for their future. She wondered which side of that line he fell on.

    that is good to hear, and cole nods     in response. skyhold was going to     be her home for as long as she led     the inquisition, it was good to hear     she actually liked it.

        Sigh. Was he still alright with someone digging around in his head day-and-night without as much as a 'can I'? Probably not as fine as he would’ve liked to be. Alas - selfish bastard as he might’ve been in the past, he liked to think he was willing to take a few shots for a few friends nowadays.

    “Fine, fine. I’ll chase them. No freezing.       But I’ll let you know; anyone else asked me, I would’ve freezed them.”         Cole needs trustworthy friends; Don’t let yourself forget, Dorian.

    ' thank you, ' cole says, and means it.                        he knows that not everyone                        would chase snakes about                        just to avoid killing them.

[Well, it was worth asking.] 

          Have fun settling that.

[She is trying to find a cure to help Alistair and the others, and that’s all.] 

You look at me like I’m responsible. I was in Ferelden. I had no part in this. 

    that gives cole pause.

                ' you're right. you couldn't                  have done anything. and                  you never tried to summon                  demons to you like that,                  yank them through the veil. '

"Well… I do, and I don’t…" she paused.

"Who are you, exactly?”

The faithful certainty in which Cole spoke had Cullen stunned for a moment. He wouldn't let that happen again, no, he wouldn't let someone take advantage like that. Not a mage, not a Templar, not Corypheus. Cole knew that, saw that, and Cullen felt- relief.

His arms wrapped around the young man, pulling him in a tight embrace. "Thank you." He breathed, his voice hoarse from the tears he didn't know he was shedding.

    the hug is startling,                              and cole is reminded suddenly of evangeline.     of templars with good intentions     and sensible worries     and fear that won't cripple                                            and--