[open] a little truth arrives in the dying of each day

[eolasemah]

WHO: Sina and you
WHAT: here we go
WHEN: mid-Harvestmere
WHERE: Hightown and then the Gallows
NOTES: All Sina logs from this point onward will involve discussions/dealing with death and illness, so if you're sensitive about those topics I recommend passing these by.

I. Just outside the Forest Garden [single thread please, 1-3 people max]

Sina still looks like Sina, but if Thedas had photographs, and the ability to compare a person's image of two years ago to their image today, only then would it become achingly clear how much mass she's lost. As the weather grows chill, she has to bundle up more and more just to go to work in her gardens, and even then is constantly cold. But she's been all right, all things considered; she's still upright, at least.

Until she isn't. Having felt a little strange since they found the elf children in the warehouse, Sina has chalked it up to the usual business and the gut-wrenching trauma of what they found. Her chest has felt a little heavier, her step a little slower, her hands a little colder, nothing worth calling a healer about until today: she's nearly down the stairs of the former Chantry when she abruptly loses consciousness.

Crumpling like a doll, Sina scrapes her leg on the last few steps and collapses to the ground, basket of herbs on its side, its contents splayed everywhere. She wakes up at once, but with bleary confusion, disoriented and burning with fever.


II. The Infirmary [ota]

Those who spent any significant time with the rescued elven children may also have caught what ails Sina now, but with a body already so ravaged by weakness, fighting it is clearly difficult for her. She's asleep most of the time, coughing when she's awake, and unable to keep food down.
It's not the first time she's been in this position, but it may be the last.

Comments

[samahl]

Cyril came closer to make sure she could see the flowers better. "I am," he admits. "Though, what about you? He's your husband."

[eolasemah]

Husband. What a strange word for what Sorrel is; Sina has never applied the word Wife to herself, as it seems even stranger. Partners, that she can get behind.
"Very much so," she says nonetheless, fondly. "It's good to see his face, after most of our conversations have been in letters." Despite the political necessity of their bonding, she feels herself luckier than most, in becoming involved with a person she has truly come to like and respect. But there's... something, and it causes a little pinkness to tinge her face, her smile at Cyril becoming almost secretive, as though she's holding back some kind of private joke. "Cyril," she begins, haltingly.

[samahl]

"Sina?" he asks, and leans closer, encouraging her to continue. He knows the two of them haven't had the chance to get very close, but he still like her. He would still freely call her lethallan.

[eolasemah]

As he leans in, she giggles, unable to help herself. Sina's face has gone a little more pink, no doubt aided by the fever, which is also possibly responsible for her next question:
"You and Sorrel," she begins, and touches her fingertips to her mouth as though to press her lips closed, but she breaks into a helpless grin anyway. It's a prompt as much as anything: something in her eyes, though they're glassy, is knowing.

[samahl]

Cyril raised his brow after a moment and straightened up. "Sina..." he started, and it was clear from his expression that he and Sorrel weren't anything that would cause giggling. He looked a little stricken.

"I know we don't know each other well... but do you think I'm the sort of person who could make Sorrel happy?" he asked it carefully, because he didn't want her to feel guilty or upset. He knew she just wasn't aware enough of all of the tension behind the scenes to know that Sorrel and him could never be. "He deserves a man who can dedicate themselves to him. Who can tell him that he's loved without the words sticking in his throat. Who doesn't get distracted by every pretty bloke he crosses his path."

[eolasemah]

To be fair, that's not what she was asking. Or rather, it sort of was, but Cyril has answered her question better than she thinks he has. The giggling subsides, and she sighs deeply, albeit not unpleasantly.
After a moment, she blinks her eyes open and looks at him, her expression warm. "A man," she clarifies, "he deserves a man." She's seen the way that Sorrel looks at him, and was really just looking for confirmation; not that her husband has been unfaithful, but that... perhaps they're not so different as they think.

[samahl]

Cyril presses his lips together then, because he worries he said too much, but her response isn't one of anger or disgust. She seems warm, almost relieved. That makes Cyril relax a bit.

"He deserves what makes him happy," Cyril clarifies. "Whatever that is." Then, after a moment, he realizes he doesn't have to be diplomatic with his wording for her. "I've always... suspected that Sorrel's tastes were closer to mine than to others, but I could never confirm it." That was, until recently, but Cyril is probably never going to put words to Sorrel's drunken confession.

"I was too terrified at idea of breaking his heart if I tried to prove it and I had... well, I had my complicated feelings about Merrick." It's still difficult to admit to that, but he's dealt with those feelings and moved on.

"That and he was the Keeper's son, and Beleth would outright kill me. She has very, very, very sharp knives." The last part is said jokingly, even though he knows that Beleth would never forgive him for hurting her brother.

"What about you? You don't seem upset... Did you suspect?"

[eolasemah]

Sina is relieved. A visible tension leaves her, and she blinks sleepily at Cyril, knitting her brow slightly at what he says.
"I agree," she says, in a tired, hoarse tone, "that he deserves happiness." Hesitating, she takes a deep breath with a bit of a rasp to it, and she nods to his question. "I saw how he looks at you," she admits, a glint of amusement-- perhaps sympathy-- in her hazel eyes. "It's..."
Why hold it back? If anyone will understand, it's Cyril.
"...rather how I've looked at Ellana, from time to time."

[samahl]

Cyril's brow lifts and then he laughs. It's just one sound, really, and one of pure relief rather than actual glee. Then he realizes that is probably rude and settles instead into a comfortable smile.

"Ellana is rather gorgeous though, even I can tell that." If he knew Sina better he'd make a joke about it being a shame that Ellana only liked men.

"Do you have any other lady or ladies who take your eye?"

[eolasemah]

Sina grins in response, but only seems all the more tired. She nods, blushing faintly at Cyril's observation, but his question doesn't seem to continue her enjoyment. In fact, her smile dwindles. She shakes her head, more dismissively than in a way that says no.
"It hardly matters," she replies, looking tentatively back up at Cyril, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "Not..." Unable to finish the sentence, she lets her head drop, shoulders hunched. Not anymore.

[samahl]

Cyril hadn't meant to upset her. He moves closer and offers his arm to her if she likes physical contact, he would wrap it around her. He wishes there was something he could do for her to give her more time to have someone like that here with her.

"Is there anything I can do?"

[eolasemah]

Sina's despair comes and goes, but comes most notably when she's reminded of how little time she seems to have left, how young she actually is. She rests her head on Cyril's shoulder and momentarily presses her tearful face against it, trying to let the moment pass. It's harder, when she's here in bed and can't do a thing about it.
"Just--" she whispers, "look after him?" She takes a deep, shuddering breath and sighs it out, barely any calmer. "...help remind him it's not his fault."

[samahl]

"I was going to try to do that before, but I'll try extra hard for you too," Cyril promises her.

Then, after a moment, because talking about Sorrel is safer and doesn't seem to make her as upset. "He does care about you, you know. No matter what else is true, that is as well. He'll want to do anything to give you peace."

[eolasemah]

Fortunately, Sina is too tired, and feels too awful, to have a proper cry about it. She has to conserve energy wherever she can take it, but that doesn't mean she's any less despondent.
"I know," she whispers, "he's better than I'd ever hoped." Blinking rapidly, a few more tears seep from her eyes and into Cyril's shirt. "Perhaps--" She's too choked up to continue, but pauses for several seconds and tries again. "--perhaps it was all meant to be. He'll be a great Keeper." Once Deheune and Thalia are both gone, having two Keepers for the united clans would continue their existing awkwardness. Having only one First to take over removes some of that complication.

[samahl]

"He will be," Cyril agreed. He wants to say You would have been too, but that seems like the kind of thing that would just upset her. Instead, he just kept his arm around her and tried to offer some kind of comfort.

"And if Beleth ever goes back, she'll make sure they follow his lead."

[eolasemah]

Being a Keeper is all Sina has ever wanted. The greatest heartbreak she anticipated was having to weather Thalia's death in order to see that day come to pass; no one could have predicted this.
"Beleth," she repeats with a weak, fond laugh. "She will." If anyone can keep anything in line, it's Beleth. "I'm so lucky." Tears continue to spill from her eyes, even if she's not quite breaking down. "If I hadn't come to Skyhold, I'd never have met any of you." With the exception of Pel, through an arlathven, but there'd be little significance to it.

[samahl]

"Going to Skyhold was the best choice I ever made. It's wonderful to hear that you think the same. It feels a bit like not being alone."

[eolasemah]

Sina nods, and her weak smile remains, but doesn't stem her tears. "It wasn't a choice," she replies, helplessly. "Not for me." She looks blearily at some of the flowers in her room, left behind by the various callers. "I've--" she stammers, trying not to sound too bitter. "...I've never had a choice in any of it." Go to Skyhold and learn what's going on, or die. Go to Kirkwall with the Inquisition, or die. Maybe die anyway. "I only ever wanted to be with my clan. But at least... at least some good has come of it."

[samahl]

Cyril mentally kicked himself for wording things that way. Her situation was always so different from those from Ashara Clan and he wanted to remember that.

"Perhaps those of us here have formed something like our own Clan. A new family. And then you and Sorrel helped solidify that union."

[eolasemah]

Despite the misunderstanding, Sina doesn't seem to bear Cyril any ill will. She nods, tears still dripping from her eyes, though she wipes at them with her sleeve, trying to pull herself together. "Dahlasanor will go on," she confirms, as much of a reminder to herself as to him. Remembering something, she smiles weakly.
"Halesta, one of our hunters," Sina murmurs, "she's taken up with one of yours and may be with child." The smile grows warmer, fonder. Hopeful. Lifting her gaze to Cyril, her eyes glimmer with restrained excitement. "It will be the first baby born to us since..." A heavy pause. "...me."

[samahl]

Cyril's eyes widened a bit at the thought. Then he realized just how fortuitous the union between the two clans had been. Ashara had had an abundance of young people after the plague had killed so many of their parents.

"Then your union with Sorrel should be the start of more between our two Clans. Those could lead to more children."

[eolasemah]

Pleased to see his reaction, Sina smiles. "Exactly," she confirms, with a slow nod, "and the People will continue on as we always have." Most of them, anyway.

[samahl]

"Thank you for giving that to both of our Clans, Sina," Cyril said softly. "Your willingness to bond with Sorrel will lead to a better future for them."