Red Inside, Eating You Up
It was Vel who heard it first. The low, mournful melody of the stone - eking its way into her brain, corrupting her from the inside out.
“Do you hear it?” She spoke softly, barely a murmur over the noise of the prison. Clanging steel gates, screaming prisoners, the crying of the desperate.
“Hear what?” Varric replied, looking up at her to find her face empty, devoid of emotion. At the corner of her eye was a line of red, just beneath the skin. It glowed inside her, a sickly red warmth.
“The song.” Vel says, eyes blank and drifting into the darkness beyond their cell. “It’s beautiful, but so sad.”
Varric pauses for a moment, looking down at his hands.
“I know, Clover. I know.”
He was glad he couldn’t see himself. Almost a year in a prison had him a little worse for wear - most notably, at least to him, the fact he hadn’t been able to shave. His beard grew in thick and fast, unpleasant and unwanted. Vel didn’t seem to mind, nuzzling her face up against his cheek.
“You look good with a beard, Varric.” Vel added, curling herself up into his lap with practiced ease. It was less difficult to fit her there, now - her frame was bony and pale, sickened and so small. Her tiny, thin hands found their way to Varric’s exposed chest, eventually wrapping themselves around his neck. They were cold and clammy against his skin, but he didn’t care.
He pulled her against his chest, taking off his duster to wrap it around her. She shivered slightly at the flutter of wind created by his movement, and he quickly pulled her in, tucking her head flush against his chest.
“Really, Clover? Hm. I don’t like it. Isn’t it scratchy?” He huffs, planting his chin on the top of Vel’s head.
“No. It feels like home.” Vel speaks, her voice drifting into a whisper.
“Then I guess I’ll keep it. Just a little longer, though.”
She got worse quicker than Varric thought she would.
“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” She whispered, crawling her way to him in the dark.
“Hey, don’t talk like that. Someone’ll come for us, Clover. There’s... There’s gotta be someone still out there.” Varric wrapped her small, spindly frame in his arms, trying in vain to comfort her.
“Varric, look at me.” Vel tugs his chin down, forcing him to look. Her skin was sunken and grey, lips cracked and eyes starting to crystallize. She hadn’t slept in days- no, weeks. How long had it been since they’d eaten? “I’m dying.”
“If we’re going to die here, tell me the story of her. Of Bianca.” She asked, her voice hoarse with pain.
“I made a promise, Vel. I can’t just...” Varric starts, before being interrupted.
“The world is gone, Varric. Tell me the story. Please?”
“I... Alright, Petal. I’ll tell you.”
“Petal? That’s new.” Vel’s lips quirked into a tired smile.
“I can’t keep calling you Clover, now can I?”
“Suppose not. And Varric?” Vel mumbles, lifting her head up slightly to meet his eyes.
“Hm?” Varric hums in question before Vel presses her lips to his. It was a long, slow kiss, ending with their foreheads pressed together, sad smiles on both of their faces.
“If I’m going to die, there’s no one I’d rather die with than you, Storyteller.”
