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WHO: Cyril and OPEN
WHAT: The first time that Cyril has opened his stall for a long time but he seems distracted rather than engaging others the way he usually does.
WHEN: A week or so after Sina's death
WHERE: The Gallows - Specifically Cyril's stall at the Gallows.
NOTES: This might eventually result in some discussions of grief and parental death. Close CR might get him to talk a bit about what happened in Pel's nightmare too so all of those warnings may apply.

It has been nearly a month since Cyril has been at his stall. First business with the Inquisition had pulled him away, then a shortage of supplies, then Sina's death and everything surrounding it. Finally, though, he has some wares out to be bought by any who are interested.

There are some basic traps, spring loaded traps, and then, as always, his puzzle boxes. The different items are organized carefully on the table and displayed for any who happen by. Usually, Cyril would be playing with one of the boxes to show how they work, or engaging with those who paused at the stall.

Now, though, he focuses on a sketch he's working on. When someone comes by he smiles at them, and offers pleasant conversation, but rather than being his usually vibrant self he seems a bit withdrawn. He sits by the stall and works on drawing the shape of a woman's face.

If anyone manages to catch what he's working on, they may notice that she resembles him. Or rather, that he resembles her. He had inherited most of his looks from her after all.

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"So ... should I be disturbed that you are drawing yourself?" Adasse asked suddenly from over Cyril's shoulder. Had he snuck up on the other elf? Maybe. He put his chin on Cyril's shoulder. He tipped his chin a little then let out soft grunt of surprise.

"Oh no, that's a girl there, isn't it? Different cheekbones, and all. Close though." He stands up straight, and turns to lean on the table, giving him a cheerfully lazy smile.

Cyril started a bit at being snuck up on, but settled easily once he realized it was Adasse. He even tilted his head a bit to the side to give the other elf a comfortable space for his chin.

Usually, he'd make some quip about how trying to capture beauty as lovely as his was no crime, but he's really just not in the mood to play up his vanity.

"She's my mother," he offers instead, by way of explanation.

Adasse leaned back, his dark eyes thoughtful as he looked at Cyril, then down at the sketch. A smile worked over his lips, as he tipped his head up to look at the sketch again.

"Well, I see the apple didn't fall far from the tree there. Beautiful, the both of you." He tipped his chin back, his gaze bright. "You have her eyes."

Cyril considered the drawing for a moment before speaking. "For a long time, I couldn't remember what she looked like. I didn't realize how much I took after her."

Adasse's gaze flickered before he smiled a little. "You're lucky, then. My mind ... my mind continues to forget things about my mother. Just, you know, memories triggered by a smell, or a sound, or maybe some lady wearing a dress that looked like hers? And I can see her face again."

He nods at the picture, "When did you lose her?"

Cyril looks at Adasse for a moment before replying. He finds the idea that Adasse can relate to these complicated feelings to be immeasurably comforting.

"I was six when an illness took her and many others from our Clan. That probably explains why I couldn't recall anything more than just sweat soaked hair and the smell of sick in the air..."

He looks away for a moment, uncertain how to process all of this. "And then a nightmare happened to bring her face back to me. I'm honestly not even sure how I feel about the idea that it took that for me to be able to picture her."

Adasse's dark eyes filled with sympathy, and empathy. He moved to kneel next to Cyril, offering up his hand so the other man could take it. He wasn't good about expressing his own emotions, but he could help Cyril with just being there.

"... do you want to talk about it?" He gave Cyril a crooked smile. "Or we could, in fact, drink a lot and then talk about it?"

Cyril does take the offered hand and rubs Adasse's hand with his thumb.

"I'm not sure I have a lot to say without sounding terribly and depressingly dull. And I like making you think I'm more interesting than I am."

Adasse looked up at him from his kneeling position, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. He kissed the back of Cyril's hand, his smirk reappearing. "Not even in your nightmares could you be dull, Cyril."

Cyril looks back at Adasse for a moment and it's difficult to tell exactly what he's thinking or feeling, but then after a moment he smiles and chuckles softly.

"Oh my, that was such a line, Adasse Agassi. You should be very proud of it," he teases lightly.

Adasse gave him a faint smirk, before he let his expression become a touch more serious. "Just to let you know though - you don't have to worry about what I'll think of you. I'll like you, no matter what. So... we're good, Cyril."

"I'm glad," Cyril replies, offering Adasse a more genuine smile then. "And I admit that since meeting you and becoming your friend, I find more reasons to smile. It's very comforting. You are comforting."

"Oh well, you know. Got to do something useful around here, don't I?" He tipped his head up, before he nodded at the drawing. "You should get that framed. Put it in your beautiful room. So you have a good memory of her to hold onto."

"I'm not sure that I will," Cyril admitted after a moment. "I know it's probably unusual, but I was fine not remembering her. Knowing what she looks like... It's strange. I was drawing her mostly out of obligation, if I'm honest."

He considered the drawing for a moment. "I'd rather draw a picture of you..."

Adasse tipped his chin up at Cyril, his memory flashing to a picture that Sorrel had sketched of him, not too long ago. His lips curve at the edge.

"One condition. You do two drawings of me. One for yourself, and one to share."

"Can I make the one for me in a sexy pose?" Cyril asked, slipping into flirting very easily.

Now that pulls a laugh out of him. "If you must. Although I have to tell you, I've got nothing on pretty naked Orlesian men who make all those statues with the muscles and such." He kissed Cyril's hand gallantly, dark eyes flashing laughter.

Cyril chuckles softly. "Mm, sometimes I want something a bit closer to home than Orlesians though. And you're perfect."

"All right, where would you like me?" He stands, hooking his thumbs into his sash, dark eyes alight with mischief. "Lounging on the shore? Posing with sword and shield? Perhaps doing that half-naked statue thing where I've got an arrow stuck out of me?"

Cyril laughs at the idea. "Or we could go somewhere more private?" he suggests.

"Well I never say no to that -- but I want to make sure? Are you okay, or do you need to talk more about this?" He gives Cyril a level look. "I don't want you thinking you got to take me to bed for me to be your friend."

"I don't think that at all, dear one," Cyril said sincerely. "I think that I could use a distraction, and you are a good friend with or without coming to my bed."

"Good. I am glad to hear this." He kissed Cyril's hands again, "Then come on. Let's go and get yourself distracted."

Cyril chuckled softly. "Help me pack up first, will you? The anticipation will only make the act all the sweeter." He then turns to focus on getting his items secure so they can take them with them when they disappear somewhere more private.

"Oh the things you say." Adasse teased, as he stood up straight, looking around. "What am I grabbing here?"