faderift | (no subject)

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(no subject)

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by he smiles at them, and offers pleasant conversation, but rather than being his usually vibrant self he seems a bit withdrawn.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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Cyril shrugged after a moment and rubbed at his temple. "I'm not sure how to describe it all. And... I'm not sure I want to do it here."

He looked around, and then back at Sam.

"This is silly. I'm not selling anything. Help me pack up and we'll go home?"

"Just tell me where things go." All for packing up and heading home if things aren't busy.

Despite the seriousness of the whole topic, Sam cannot help the small smile that tugs at his lips. It wasn't 'your place', it was 'home'. He's not sure if it was a slip up or Cyril actually thinking it like that, but Sam isn't going to point that out, just enjoy the moment.

Cyril is too lost in his own sense of hurt to even realize the slip happened. Instead, for a while, he focuses on packing everything away and then carrying it back to the house. He is quiet other than giving instructions. Once everything is safely back inside the house, he seems a little jumpy. As if he realizes he was supposed to open up again.

He wonders why this is so hard for him. Why he can't just be normal and enjoy talking to someone he loves about the things bothering him? Why does there always have to be a ball of anxiety that wells up in his stomach at thought of it? He trusts Sam with all that he is, why does he have to always remind himself of that fact?

"Umm... perhaps I should make some tea?" he offers, rather than just getting right back to the topic,

The jumpiness doesn't go unnoticed. He knew Cyril was pretty frayed by this whole thing, being more distant then normal, but it seemed that it was worse then he first expected.

He wants to know what is wrong, but doesn't want to push Cyril either, so Sam also falls into awkward silence. Just as he opens his mouth, finding something to say, Cyril pulls the words right out of his mouth. He snorts lightly at that.

"I would like some tea if you're going to make it."

Cyril nods at that and then moves to sit at the table while Sam starts to make the tea. He isn't sure how to start talking about this, so instead he looks down at the table and waits for Sam to either finish or say something.

Sam allows Cyril his space and silence, watching him for a moment before getting everything together to make the tea. It honestly doesn't take long, but he purposely drags it out, not wanting to rush.

Eventually though he does come over to the table, setting down the pot and cups, filling them right after. "If you need to talk about it, I'm here," he says softly, repeating back the words Cyril had said to him a while back when he was struggling with things of his own.

Cyril takes a breath and then nods. He takes his cup and just holds it for a moment, letting the warmth seep into his fingers.

"So... I mean. You know that we had to go into Pel's nightmare to save her from a demon. I just... I don't know how to begin to explain what I saw there."

Taking a seat and picking up his own cup, Sam stares at Cyril for a moment then gives a small nod at knowing about the incident. That's just about as much as he knew about it though, that Pel had an issue with a demon and wouldn't wake.

"Start where ever you need to. Circle back if you have to. It isn't... always easy to explain."

Cyril has to take another moment. "I saw... My mother? I think that's the easiest to start with. She died when I was so young, I couldn't remember what she looked like. But... it turns out she haunts Pel. Which means that I was able to see what she looked like. And now I feel as if I'm obligated to remember her.

That's why I was drawing her. I don't even feel sad about her, or anything. Just... heavy with a sense that I should feel sad."

Sam is quiet for a moment, sipping at his tea quietly as he considers Cyril's words.

"I can... relate to that. I never knew my mother so it's hard to feel something... but you shouldn't force yourself to try and feel something. Especially something that you witness as a third party in the Fade." Things... warped.

"Just to clarify... you mean the memory of your mother haunts Pel or the demon uses her image to haunt Pel?" Sam pauses for a moment before adding on. "

"I think it was a little of both? It's so strange. She and I share and talk about almost everything and I never noticed how much that death stuck with her. But of course it would. She was old enough to know what was happening when the illness took so many from the Clan, and the Keeper expected her to help with the dead. She was there to be First, after all."

He frowns, staring down into his tea. "I should have been there for her, Sam. I should have realized there was a demon preying on her. I should have done more to help her before things got so bad. That monster... It made me see other things. Terrible things. I can't imagine her having to shoulder that alone for so long."

"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, Cyril. There was no way for you to know that a demon had gotten hold of her. Even those of us who are familiar with demons in such a way couldn't know until something major happened." Thankfully it hadn't outright consumed her, but it sounds like it was something that had been wearing her down for a while.

Cyril sighed and then rubbed his head. "I saw it though. When the water made us all funny. I saw it and yelled at it to leave her alone, and the whole time I just thought it was a hallucination."

"Water- are you talking about the lyrium?" The concoction that would have been able to allow anyone to actually enter Pel's dream. Or did Cyril mean something after, when they were already inside?

Regardless of the answer, the tea is being set down and Sam gets up and relocates his chair next to Cyril's. He doesn't go in to hug the other man, feeling that might be too much at this particular moment, but he does place a hand on Cyril's shoulder, offering his presence, that he was there.

"Sometimes... that is what it all is. It's hard to tell in the Fade. It's never easy, and you saw a lot you're not accustomed to witnessing. You did good though, you stayed strong. That's important with dealing with that stuff. Being strong willed."

"No. I mean... Remember back in Skyhold? When everyone got sick and they were seeing weird things? I barely remember anything from when I was under, but I do remember yelling at a dark thing that was following Pel around. I thought I had made it up."

He found himself leaning closer to Sam, taking comfort in his presence. "I should have done something way back then."

"Ah."

He had not forgotten about that, but it had been so long ago it hadn't come to mind when Cyril mentioned weird water. As Cyril leaned closer, Sam allowed his arm to wrap around the other's shoulders.

"Hm. Well, even if you had believed it, I don't think you could have done anything. Those black figures were on the opposite side of the Veil, all they could do was follow and make noise, the water somehow thinned it enough for that. A lot of people were being followed around, not just Pel. Kirk noticed Fortitude hanging around me when that happened."

"But Fortitude is a good spirit. He protects you, enables you to heal. Isn't that right?" Cyril asked, looking up at Sam. He wasn't exactly sure how all of this worked, but he knew that Fortitude was something good that had come from the Fade.

It wasn't all terrifying visions.

"It is one of the benevolent spirits, yes. Fortitude doesn't enable me to heal though, it allows me to heal better and perform certain spells that would otherwise be more difficult for me." He smiled slightly as he explained.

"I made a contract with it. As long as I up hold it's ideals, it will help me with magic and provide protection. The benefits are worth it if you can make it through everything."

Cyril nods, taking that in. "Yes. That's good to remember, that not everything in the Fade is... terrible." He sighs and then moves to take Sam's hand.

"I'm going to tell you everything I saw... But you need to know that it's disturbing and terrible and you can tell me to stop at any time."

Sam takes a moment to readjust Cyril's grip so that their fingers are linked together.

"I'll listen to the end. What did you see?"

Cyril takes a moment to enjoy their fingers together. Then he takes a deep breath and starts.

"At first, I was alone. Then I saw myself. The demon had cut open my body, hollowed it out, and sewn it back together. It - he - I - it had this smile stitched into its face and the demon controlled it like a puppet. It... kept talking to me. Telling me how empty it felt, how desperately it needed others to fill it up. I... I was totally frozen. I couldn't see past the grotesque image. I probably would have been defeated then, if Sina hadn't appeared to urge me to fight."

As Cyril explains, Sam cannot help the slight shiver that runs down his body, the kind you get when you feel something crawling on you. He's not sure what he's picturing is tamer or worse then what Cyril was describing, but no matter what it wasn't a pretty picture.

"I'm glad she did. That..." Was terribly disturbing. It was one thing seeing a demon when it came through a rift, but meeting it in its own realm...? "You fought it then, I take it?"

Cyril nodded and then steadied his breath again. He looked away from Sam for a moment, glancing toward the wall of the room.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to get that creature out of my head. I keep hearing it's voice, my voice, but twisted and empty."

He found his vision blurring a bit, and blinked a couple of times. He didn't know how to process that. He hadn't even had the urge to cry since his mother had died, he didn't even realize that tears were building in his eyes. They didn't fall, but they were there, waiting.

"You don't think I'm empty, do you?"

Sam hums in response to Cyril's first comment about hearing the voice, neither agreeing or disagreeing on that, but certainly understanding that feeling. After all there were still things he couldn't let go, forget.

"What?" The question takes him a little off guard, though he supposes he should have expected it. "No. I don't. If anything I know you keep a lot of stuff bottled up and don't talk openly about certain things, but... everyone does that. You're anything but empty though."

"Are you sure?" Cyril asks. He bites his lip, nibbling a bit against it. "You don't think I'm shallow and..." He sighs a bit and then rubs his head. "Maybe it was right about some things, yeah? Maybe I do seek to have things... fill me up."