This situation with Church was never something Christine could have ever prepared herself to tackle. His world was too strange and different for her to ever conceive of people being created artifically and then tearing pieces of their own mind away. But that's who Church is, and she's spent long enough away from him trying to understand it all. Funnily enough, it was while she was in the Sunless Lands of southern Orlais, trudging through heavy snow that she came to the realization that she didn't want anything to happen to her before she had the chance to apologize to him. After all he'd done for her, she had pulled away when he needed her the most. It wasn't right of her, and she is now determined to be there for Church no matter what.
It takes some time to track him down, but she finally does down in the valley as the snow is gently falling on the mountainside. She approaches slowly, as if he's a wild animal whom she might startle away. Wearing a cloak of blue lined with gray fur, she's easy to pick out against the bright, white snow. She pauses a few feet away from him.
Out in the valley, chopping wood, like a real man. Like a manly man who needs to pull his weight in the Inquisition and therefore got relegated to wood chopping duty for today, which is boring, but, it works his arms in a way that will be conducive to sword swinging, so maybe he'll become a buff mountain man. Fucking Paul Bunyan up in this shit.
He notices her coming--hard not to, since she makes the wise choice of not sneaking up behind him, with her blue cloak standing out. He doesn't chop any harder, but if he could, he would. Couldn't entirely blame her for her reaction; after all, what he said scared himself, too, and he was even from that world. But it would've been easier if he'd just made something the hell up. He's not supposed to talk about who or what he is. It makes people antsy and upset and sword-to-the-throat-y.
Church takes to regulated and appropriate emotions like a cat to water. As much as he likes seeing her, the hurt and vindictive side of himself wants to rear up and say something really unfortunate. Instead, he whacks one more lump of wood in two before thunking the axe into the chopping block. He hopes it looks really cool and woodsman-y and thematically appropriate. Spares her a look, his mouth a grim line, and looks back down at himself, brushing off some of the snow collecting on him despite his exertion. "I'm listening."
Were this any other time, Christine would be happy to admire his wood chopping skills. She would never pass up the opportunity to see a handsome man exert himself while building up muscle at the same time. But this isn't the time to get lost in lustful thoughts. She's here to apologize and even has a whole speech prepared. That's what Christine does. She wants things to be perfect and she overplans for everything. The wording of her speech has been turned over in her head again and again until she thinks it's as good as it can possible get, and now she just has to get it all out.
Clearing her throat, she takes a few steps closer until she's on the opposite side of the chopping block. If she wasn't so focused on her words, she'd probably note that there's some sort of metaphor here, like she's laying herself out on the chopping block to see if she'll be spared or not.
"Church," she begins, clasping her hands together in front of herself. "The last time we were together, you confided in me, and I did not react well. It was wrong of me to not give you as much support as you needed, and I deeply regret it. I am sorry that I treated you the way I did. I value you and I should have been a better friend to you." There. Did she remember the whole speech? Of course she did; she's Christine.
Well, that's sure...a thing that's happening right now. His eyebrows creep up. "How long'd it take you to memorize that one?" Because it definitely comes out too practiced for an off the cuff apology. Means she's been ruminating on this a while.
Church runs a hand through his hair, ruffing it up--a plus to not cutting it short? Warmth. Sighs and tries not to be angry about it, but still, the anger is burning. Not as much at her as at the entire situation. "Look, I dunno, what kind of support you could've given. It's not like it's a normal and fully understood thing even where I'm from. I'm an affront to nature as you know it and an abomination to your god. Whatever."
Her lips purse because he's caught her. She was hoping it sounded natural and not like a recitation, but unfortunately it hadn't turned out that way. And his dismissive behavior leaves her fumbling for a way to reassure him. She has no more speeches; all she can do is speak from the heart.
"You are not! I-- I do not even know if I believe in the Maker anymore." Such feelings have been growing in her over this past year, but they aren't ones she'd dare speak aloud to any in the Inquisition who are originally from Thedas. Meeting the Avvar spirits that they call their gods has only left her with more doubts.
Moving around the chopping block, she comes right up to Church, face pensive.
"You are different than anyone I know, but that does not make you an affront. I was in shock before. I was trying to understand. But now I realize that you are the same man you have always shown me. You held this secret for good reason and I am sorry I did not comfort you the way I should have done." Slowly, she brushes her fingertips along the back of his hand, imploring him to forgive her.
"You are a person. You are. One I do not wish to lose. Please believe me?"
There are things Church has picked up on either through his own studies or from simply existing in this world for--a year, just about. Must be about a year now. Sure, there are examples of whole swaths of people who don't believe in the Maker--a lot of elves, basically every qunari, dwarves have a tendency not to, and even a fair enough number of humans, but the fact that Christine Delacroix, mage of Orlais, admits that her faith in something so fundamental is wavering? He pays attention. It's a little shocking, and he's also kind of flattered she admits it to him.
In a way, this is how apologies should be. Awkward, rushed, off the top of the head. He's pretty miserable at them himself (what a surprise). And yet she's still a lot more eloquent than anyone else would normally be. It's stupidly endearing, and the addition of her touch only makes it the more emotional. Damn it, he is a manly woodsman! Manly men do not get emotional!
And yet here he is, trying pretty hard not to look it. It's just cold out here, that's all. "All that stuff I said, all that crazy bullshit about my life, where I'm from, what...what I am, you're okay with that?" As 'okay' as anyone can be with information like that, to be fair, which is not so much okay as...willing to look past it.
He turns his hand over, her hand resting in his. "I shouldn't have said. I knew it would...I knew something like this would happen, just--I-I mean it doesn't really change, what I said, it doesn't change who I am to you, right? Cuz, just, I'm not any fucking different from how I always damn well was. It's just...this...this extra information that's...it's really hard to deal with. So I don't. I don't have to here. I can just...be. Alive and human."
Christine Delacroix, mage of Orlais, who has been told her entire life that she must have been sinful to be punished with magic. That maybe if she prays hard enough, the Maker will forgive her and take her magic away. That it would just be better for everyone if she was dead or Tranquil because then she wouldn't turn into an abomination. Maybe if she wasn't a mage, she wouldn't have all these doubts. But being one and having doubts is what led the spirit of Faith to her, and she wouldn't wish things any other way.
She nods her head at his question, releasing a relieved breath as he takes her hand. This is what she's been hoping for. One more chance to make things right.
"At first I thought it must change everything, but then I really examined it and no, nothing has changed. I look at you and knowing how things were before you arrived, I think this must be a gift." Her other hand lifts to cup his cheek, her fingertips cold but gentle. "Whether it is the Maker, spirits, or something else, you were given this body because you were meant to live in it, yes? And so you shall."
Of all the things he thought of the situation, a gift is not really one of them. Sure, being alive is really special. Having a body where before he had...not really one? Also awesome. Gift? Well.
"I'm not sure that my god or your god like me enough to pluck me out of certain death, stuff me in a meatsuit, push my through a demon portal, and say hey, have fun in a time probably a thousand years behind you technologically--but on the other hand, that sounds just weird and dickish enough to happen to me." Yeah, no, honestly that feels about par for the course. Why is he even surprised?
Church turns his head just enough to kiss the palm of her hand. "I like living pretty well, though. I think most people would agree, living's pretty good. It's got its perks."
"Hmmph," she begins, though she does look pleased at the kiss to her hand. "Yes, well, I would hope being close to those you care for would be one such perk." Saying such a thing has her pressing herself up close to him.
"Especially when it is cold and it is better to share warmth." Her smile widens for a moment before it slides back into something more fond. "I have missed you."
It's kind of weird to know he was missed. Okay, sure, like he knows Caboose missed him, but generally people don't give quite enough of a fuck for that to sink in. That he could be missed. But it's a nice thing to hear, and he smiles just so as he slides his arms easily around her. Woodsman warm.
"It sucked avoiding you. It sucked in general." And maybe that's why it's easy to forgive her. The thought still stings, for sure, but he also can't really blame her for her reaction. "Gimmie a couple minutes to pack this wood up and we can spend a little time warming up, yeah?"
"Yes." Her eyes lower in shame, because it was her poor reaction that caused this. She was the one who needed space to think, and he had had to steer clear of her (though perhaps part of him wished to after her words).
Seeing an opportunity to be useful, her eyes dart to the wood and back to him. "I will help you. It will go faster that way."
"Eager to make up for some lost time, huh?" Maybe that smile's gone a little cocky. He indicates a nearby cart to load up with his head, hefting up an armload of wood to stack. Just like a real burly woodsman!
"I appreciate it. Uh, not the wood. I mean, yes, the wood, thanks, but the--changing your mind about me. Not a lot of natives would, I think."
Christine takes up several pieces of wood herself, though not nearly as much as him and moves towards the cart, inclining her head a little along the way.
"Then they would be missing out, I should think. You can always lift my spirits and make me laugh. And in return, I hope I bring you happiness." He certainly smirks enough to make her think so.
"Eh, I'm used to being a giant asshole in a group. Just...y'know, they just kinda all appreciated my giant asshole role, y'know? I wonder if--" Wonder if they miss him. Besides Caboose. Wonder if there's a giant asshole hole now.
"Eh." Shake it off, Church, shake it off. "Point is, I'm glad I make you happy. And you make me happy. You definitely...definitely do that."
Setting the wood down, a quizzical look comes to her face before she guesses that perhaps he's thinking of that group of soldiers he served with; wondering what they're doing now, and wondering about him. She knows going home means his death, and knows that he knows it too. But she can understand if he's thinking about those people back there. She'll just have to make sure he continues to be happy here.
"Good." She dusts off her hands before considering their surroundings and stooping down to collect a handful of snow, which she starts forming into a ball. Her bare hands feel the sting, but she ignores it. "Do you know we met almost a year ago, here in this valley? There were stars above, a warm bonfire, and I believe I recall a snowball fight."
Better duck fast, Church. She's flinging a snowball at you now.
Hey, he made up a shanty to Araceli about those assholes back home. He can stand to miss them and wonder about them sometimes.
He sees the snowball getting made. Has it been a year, now? Yes, it must be a year. He'd spent more than that alone in that base before Wash and Caboose came along, and yet somehow being here has felt longer. Church ducks low and grabs for a handful of snow.
"That so?" Talk about your meet-cute. "I recall you looked a little damp from the snow you took." Like the snow he's gonna throw at her right back!
"Only because you cheated and threw a whole armload of snow at me!" she protests, quickly scooping up more snow and trying to kite around behind him to dump the snow down his back. That will show him! She still recalls what he did to her hair in that first snowball fight.
"I threw snow at you! That's not cheating; that's entirely within the made-up rules of snowball fiiiieeeeee that's fucking cold!" Church might be the big woodsman right now but Christine is smaller and flightier. And putting snow down his back. She'll now get to sit back, entertained by the dance of trying to get a hunk of snow out from the back of his shirt while making decidedly unmanly sounds. It's super attractive.
It's not attractive at all, but it is completely hilarious. Christine throws her cold, wet hands up over her cheeks, cackling with delight at Church's Dance of the Snowstruck. This, more than anything else, is what keeps her interested in Church. She's a practical, logical, overworked woman, and Church makes her dissolve into laughter like no other. He reminds her to not be so serious all the time. He reminds her -- now that she knows his origins, even more so -- that life has so many facets that need to be enjoyed. It isn't always just about survival.
"Here, here," she says through her laughter, rushing over to shake his shirt to help get the snow out. "You silly man." It's said fondly and she's grinning up at him when she's done helping.
Her laughter is a way to get them back to good. To where they were before she asked, and before he tried to explain. It's going to hang there out in the open between them until they might address it again, but it's not in the way right now. They can throw snow and laugh. Or yelp in an unmanly way and dance around, y'know, to each their own.
"Silly?" he huffs out more out of being able to breathe than actually huffing petulantly. "I can show you silly. C'mere." He scoops her up, and it's not the easiest move to muster, because there have ever been a total of two women in Blood Gulch like...ever, and if you think Tex would ever allow the likes of him to get swooped up bridal style, hahaha. But he manages it! Because him manly apeman, ook.
He might also be looking for the nearest snow drift. For no reason. No reason at all. Totally not to try and dump her in.
She lets out a surprised shriek when she's swept up, but throws back her head and laughs at him... until she realizes that he's not moving towards the path back to Skyhold, but into heavier snow. Then she grips tightly to his shoulder, eyes wide.
"Do not drop me, Church, or I shall never forgive you!"
"What was that?" He pretends like his grip is going, letting her slip juuust a little. "Oh, sorry, my hands are cold. Did you say drop you? Right here into this big old snowpile? Are you suuuure about that?" Yes, he is an ass, remember how your not-boyfriend is an ass?
He is losing so many points right now. She scrambles to tighten her hold, imagining how wet and freezing she'll be if she ends up dropped into a snowbank.
"No! I swear we will never have sex again and I was going to bake you a pie as a present too, but you can forget it all if you drop meeeee!" The end comes out as an uncharacteristic squeal, because she is desperate to not be covered in snow.
"Alas and alack! The lady's words wound me so." Church you have never acted in a Shakespearean play. Don't do this. "Oh, swoon! Fetch the smelling salts!" He spins ever so dramatically, and he doesn't drop her. Technically speaking. He'll take the fall for her, falling backwards as if mortally wounded, right into the bank, laughing all the way. And taking Christine with him.
Since there is no Shakespeare in Thedas, he ends up sounding like an overdramatic minstrel to her. Just as she's about to question him and why he's talking this way, her head spins and her equilibrium is thrown off kilter as they go down. She lets out a shriek of surprise on the way down before looking him over and laughing.
"Church! Now you are going to be freezing! I suppose you will have to come into my tent so I may wrap you up in furs and make you hot tea." She finishes the statement with a quick kiss, before repeating her previous statement.
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{ church }
This situation with Church was never something Christine could have ever prepared herself to tackle. His world was too strange and different for her to ever conceive of people being created artifically and then tearing pieces of their own mind away. But that's who Church is, and she's spent long enough away from him trying to understand it all. Funnily enough, it was while she was in the Sunless Lands of southern Orlais, trudging through heavy snow that she came to the realization that she didn't want anything to happen to her before she had the chance to apologize to him. After all he'd done for her, she had pulled away when he needed her the most. It wasn't right of her, and she is now determined to be there for Church no matter what.
It takes some time to track him down, but she finally does down in the valley as the snow is gently falling on the mountainside. She approaches slowly, as if he's a wild animal whom she might startle away. Wearing a cloak of blue lined with gray fur, she's easy to pick out against the bright, white snow. She pauses a few feet away from him.
"Church," she begins. "May we speak?"
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He notices her coming--hard not to, since she makes the wise choice of not sneaking up behind him, with her blue cloak standing out. He doesn't chop any harder, but if he could, he would. Couldn't entirely blame her for her reaction; after all, what he said scared himself, too, and he was even from that world. But it would've been easier if he'd just made something the hell up. He's not supposed to talk about who or what he is. It makes people antsy and upset and sword-to-the-throat-y.
Church takes to regulated and appropriate emotions like a cat to water. As much as he likes seeing her, the hurt and vindictive side of himself wants to rear up and say something really unfortunate. Instead, he whacks one more lump of wood in two before thunking the axe into the chopping block. He hopes it looks really cool and woodsman-y and thematically appropriate. Spares her a look, his mouth a grim line, and looks back down at himself, brushing off some of the snow collecting on him despite his exertion. "I'm listening."
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Clearing her throat, she takes a few steps closer until she's on the opposite side of the chopping block. If she wasn't so focused on her words, she'd probably note that there's some sort of metaphor here, like she's laying herself out on the chopping block to see if she'll be spared or not.
"Church," she begins, clasping her hands together in front of herself. "The last time we were together, you confided in me, and I did not react well. It was wrong of me to not give you as much support as you needed, and I deeply regret it. I am sorry that I treated you the way I did. I value you and I should have been a better friend to you." There. Did she remember the whole speech? Of course she did; she's Christine.
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Church runs a hand through his hair, ruffing it up--a plus to not cutting it short? Warmth. Sighs and tries not to be angry about it, but still, the anger is burning. Not as much at her as at the entire situation. "Look, I dunno, what kind of support you could've given. It's not like it's a normal and fully understood thing even where I'm from. I'm an affront to nature as you know it and an abomination to your god. Whatever."
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"You are not! I-- I do not even know if I believe in the Maker anymore." Such feelings have been growing in her over this past year, but they aren't ones she'd dare speak aloud to any in the Inquisition who are originally from Thedas. Meeting the Avvar spirits that they call their gods has only left her with more doubts.
Moving around the chopping block, she comes right up to Church, face pensive.
"You are different than anyone I know, but that does not make you an affront. I was in shock before. I was trying to understand. But now I realize that you are the same man you have always shown me. You held this secret for good reason and I am sorry I did not comfort you the way I should have done." Slowly, she brushes her fingertips along the back of his hand, imploring him to forgive her.
"You are a person. You are. One I do not wish to lose. Please believe me?"
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In a way, this is how apologies should be. Awkward, rushed, off the top of the head. He's pretty miserable at them himself (what a surprise). And yet she's still a lot more eloquent than anyone else would normally be. It's stupidly endearing, and the addition of her touch only makes it the more emotional. Damn it, he is a manly woodsman! Manly men do not get emotional!
And yet here he is, trying pretty hard not to look it. It's just cold out here, that's all. "All that stuff I said, all that crazy bullshit about my life, where I'm from, what...what I am, you're okay with that?" As 'okay' as anyone can be with information like that, to be fair, which is not so much okay as...willing to look past it.
He turns his hand over, her hand resting in his. "I shouldn't have said. I knew it would...I knew something like this would happen, just--I-I mean it doesn't really change, what I said, it doesn't change who I am to you, right? Cuz, just, I'm not any fucking different from how I always damn well was. It's just...this...this extra information that's...it's really hard to deal with. So I don't. I don't have to here. I can just...be. Alive and human."
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She nods her head at his question, releasing a relieved breath as he takes her hand. This is what she's been hoping for. One more chance to make things right.
"At first I thought it must change everything, but then I really examined it and no, nothing has changed. I look at you and knowing how things were before you arrived, I think this must be a gift." Her other hand lifts to cup his cheek, her fingertips cold but gentle. "Whether it is the Maker, spirits, or something else, you were given this body because you were meant to live in it, yes? And so you shall."
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"I'm not sure that my god or your god like me enough to pluck me out of certain death, stuff me in a meatsuit, push my through a demon portal, and say hey, have fun in a time probably a thousand years behind you technologically--but on the other hand, that sounds just weird and dickish enough to happen to me." Yeah, no, honestly that feels about par for the course. Why is he even surprised?
Church turns his head just enough to kiss the palm of her hand. "I like living pretty well, though. I think most people would agree, living's pretty good. It's got its perks."
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"Especially when it is cold and it is better to share warmth." Her smile widens for a moment before it slides back into something more fond. "I have missed you."
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"It sucked avoiding you. It sucked in general." And maybe that's why it's easy to forgive her. The thought still stings, for sure, but he also can't really blame her for her reaction. "Gimmie a couple minutes to pack this wood up and we can spend a little time warming up, yeah?"
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Seeing an opportunity to be useful, her eyes dart to the wood and back to him. "I will help you. It will go faster that way."
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"I appreciate it. Uh, not the wood. I mean, yes, the wood, thanks, but the--changing your mind about me. Not a lot of natives would, I think."
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"Then they would be missing out, I should think. You can always lift my spirits and make me laugh. And in return, I hope I bring you happiness." He certainly smirks enough to make her think so.
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"Eh." Shake it off, Church, shake it off. "Point is, I'm glad I make you happy. And you make me happy. You definitely...definitely do that."
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"Good." She dusts off her hands before considering their surroundings and stooping down to collect a handful of snow, which she starts forming into a ball. Her bare hands feel the sting, but she ignores it. "Do you know we met almost a year ago, here in this valley? There were stars above, a warm bonfire, and I believe I recall a snowball fight."
Better duck fast, Church. She's flinging a snowball at you now.
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He sees the snowball getting made. Has it been a year, now? Yes, it must be a year. He'd spent more than that alone in that base before Wash and Caboose came along, and yet somehow being here has felt longer. Church ducks low and grabs for a handful of snow.
"That so?" Talk about your meet-cute. "I recall you looked a little damp from the snow you took." Like the snow he's gonna throw at her right back!
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"Here, here," she says through her laughter, rushing over to shake his shirt to help get the snow out. "You silly man." It's said fondly and she's grinning up at him when she's done helping.
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"Silly?" he huffs out more out of being able to breathe than actually huffing petulantly. "I can show you silly. C'mere." He scoops her up, and it's not the easiest move to muster, because there have ever been a total of two women in Blood Gulch like...ever, and if you think Tex would ever allow the likes of him to get swooped up bridal style, hahaha. But he manages it! Because him manly apeman, ook.
He might also be looking for the nearest snow drift. For no reason. No reason at all. Totally not to try and dump her in.
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"Do not drop me, Church, or I shall never forgive you!"
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"No! I swear we will never have sex again and I was going to bake you a pie as a present too, but you can forget it all if you drop meeeee!" The end comes out as an uncharacteristic squeal, because she is desperate to not be covered in snow.
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"Church! Now you are going to be freezing! I suppose you will have to come into my tent so I may wrap you up in furs and make you hot tea." She finishes the statement with a quick kiss, before repeating her previous statement.
"Silly man."
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