@lostprawns sent “You don't have to handle all of this by yourself, you know” / from cole
It was only a matter of time until compassion turned its knowing gaze onto him.
While some of their number look at Cole like a child, or an oddity, or a demon in disguise, Cathal seems to have found a friend. Every day since they found this place, he’d noticed odd, endearing little things about them – the insightful, almost poetic words Cole would say to the others; acts that seemed bizarre on the surface yet resulted in small kindnesses for people around the busy keep; a remarkable gift with daggers despite a somewhat unassuming nature. He can’t help but like him.
Still, the words are unexpected.
It’s not that Cathal had gone without appreciation for all this time, exactly. Oh, he’s smothered in it, if anything – clamouring hands & constant tugs for his attention; mountains of kind or hopeful or adoring words uttered in passing; a supposed barrage of people looking to gain his favour however they can grab it. And yet, for whatever reason, Cole’s sentiment seems wholly original.
Naturally, he’d been caught at a bad time. While the scouts are off procuring routes for their venture west, the Inquisitor has been based at Skyhold. And it’s only right that he keeps himself busy.
He’d wake up at the crack of dawn to go on a run around the mountain, then sparring practice with some of the Inquisition’s soldiers. After that, a check in with Josephine, Leliana and Cullen in turn. Perhaps an hour to draft responses to letters or read through anything he’d been given by his chief diplomat. A few hours each day were spent in Skyhold’s garden, on his knees amid the planters with whatever seeds he’d found. Normally another vigorous training session after lunch, and some days he’d dedicated time to being seen around Skyhold – time to help the horsemaster or the cook or just time spent getting to know the people who’d pledged themselves to something led by an elf. And of course, his numerous hours spent in the undercroft each day, all the time spent designing weaponry for those who fought by his side. It seemed, during this transitional period, that the Inquisitor was determined to handle everything.
Or, to be seen handling everything. A deep-rooted thought inside him figured Cole already knew how badly he yearns for validation, how important it is that he’s seen to be what everyone around here claims he is.
Sleepless eyes meet Cole’s after a long, uncomfortable pause. It’s harder to hide around him, for whatever reason. Little of the vibrant, cheerful young man can be seen upon the exhausted face of Cathal right now, though he maintains a pleasant enough smile as a peace offering.
What had he been doing again? In his room, absent-mindedly fiddling with the lute he can’t really play (especially with a left hand left numb by the anchor). No light but that of dim candles and the moon outside. He really should be asleep now that he’s not doing anything, but the mind – or perhaps the body – needs to soothe itself into something calmer. Damnit, he can’t even relax properly.
A laugh follows, soft and forced while trembling fingers set the instrument down.
“You’re right. I’m terrible. I should probably get a teacher if I’m going to handle one of these things. Or… maybe someone can just do it for me. I’ll get Josephine on the case,”
But he knows fully well what Cole was referring to – not this moment, but every other thing he’s been trying to handle. The mask is hardly worn in his presence, but Cathal isn’t quite able to shut down his own tendency to deflect.
“Did you need something, Cole?”
