faderift | (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by he smiles at them, and offers pleasant conversation, but rather than being his usually vibrant self he seems a bit withdrawn.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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He meets Cyril's gaze before shaking his head.

"It's not that extreme, most nights. We see it, deal with it, but we're not entirely aware of it. Deliberately entering the Fade is more intense. ...And then there's the fact that almost every Circle mage you'll meet has been forced into it with the threat of Tranquility if they refuse, so we didn't have much choice but to confront it."

He takes his own breath as he settles in. "I've been in the Fade like that three times now. One of those times I got to choose it," Anders adds with a chuckle that he doesn't entirely feel. "It doesn't get easier. There are no tricks to handling it. You take it as it is and hope that, that you're still yourself when it's over." However much of one's self they have.

"Three times?" Cyril asks. Not for the first time, he realizes how terrible things have been for Anders and feels nothing but pain at the thought that someone so caring and concerned would have been forced to live through that.

After a moment, he moves closer and offers his hand - wanting to have some sort of physical comfort between them while they talk about things so traumatizing.

"You're so much stronger than any one realizes, I think. Except maybe Nathaniel. He seems to have a healthy understanding of how great you are."

He takes the hand, holding it.

"The funny thing of it is that I don't feel strong. I've never really felt strong, save for one showdown with a Templar. It was years and years ago, back when I was just seen by them as a troublesome runaway. She thought me cornered in a trap baited with my phylactery... and then Jonas and Nate and the rest stood by me."

Anders shakes his head as he squeezes Cyril's hand. "I've just kept going. That's all. If I stop, if I give up, I let him down and I let so many down who never had a chance to get as far as I have. Maybe my strength is simply stubbornness."

"Stubbornness has it's uses, my friend. And if that's what keeps you going, then I'll welcome it." Sometimes he's in awe of the mages who had to live through Circles. He couldn't imagine that kind of life, and realizes that he would honestly fight anyone who tried to bring them back.

He's also been successfully distracted from his own problems for a moment. "Perhaps I could even borrow some for myself."

"Borrow some stubbornness?" Cyril gets a fond smile. "I'm not certain I could portion some out sugar to loan you, but I think you could find some inside yourself. I think you've some strength in yourself, Cyril."

The smile turns a little amused. "Unless you're asking to borrow some of Nate for yourself, since he gives me a lot of strength. I'm afraid I'm not loaning him out."

"If I were ever to experience that particular pleasure I would want you to be there too," Cyril points out, careful to keep his tone casual, not wanting to overstep his bounds with it comes to Anders' marriage. He respects that they are for each other now.

"I do hope I'm able to find it within myself, though. It would be nice to will myself out of this strange slump."

The smile doesn't weaken. He knows Cyril's not intending anything toward Nate or Anders.

"Talking can help. Was it the Fade that brought you to this? Because I'd not blame you. Demons are everywhere and far more clever than I wish they were."

After a moment, Cyril nods. He feels a little silly now, for having felt so torn up.

"It is. I can't get what I saw there out of my head."

"I can't blame you." No matter what Cyril saw, Anders can't blame him. The things in there know how to get into heads the way cats get into basically everything.

"What was it that's sticking with you?"

Cyril presses his lips together, and looks around them for a moment. He reminds himself that they are in the real world, that there are no demons around the corner.

"I saw myself. Only... not myself. The demon had hollowed me out and sewn me back together. He was controlling me like a puppet, begging anyone around to fill him back up."

Somehow, saying the words both chills Cyril to the bone and doesn't fully capture how horrifying the vision had been. He isn't sure any words will fully explain how much the image had stuck with him.

As someone who has been decidedly easy for most of his life, sitting with someone else who he knows is easy, Anders can't help but read between the lines of the demon's taunt. He gives Cyril's hands another squeeze.

"They always know exactly what will get to us, somehow, where the weak spots are. And it's not your fault that he did. They spend a great deal of time watching and looking for openings.; it's most of what they do, even."

He's not sure if he's helping. There's little comforting when it comes to demons, but he's trying.

Cyril is comforted by the touch, and that Anders isn't recoiling from him. He signs, trying to steady himself.

"I don't think everything it said was a lie," he admitted after a long moment.