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by he smiles at them, and offers pleasant conversation, but rather than being his usually vibrant self he seems a bit withdrawn.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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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.