faderift | (no subject)

WHO: Carlos and OPEN.
WHAT: It's the annivesary of his mother's death, and Carlos doesn't know what to do really.
WHEN: Begining of Bloomingtide
WHERE: Gallows
NOTES: Mentions of corporal punishment and child abuse and nelect

Carlos isn't really sure what he is meant to do on the anniversary of his mother's execution. Is it a day meant to be celebrated? Mourned? Ignored? He never fully processes it, even though it's been so long since it happened. All it does is bring memories of her to his mind, which makes him feel small and young all over again.

The weather seems to want to agree with him as it's rainy and unpleasant. He spends most of the day inside because of that, studying and helping with the healers where he can. But then towards the middle of the afternoon being cooped up makes him feel trapped - almost like he's that little boy living in a small closet all over again.

So he finds his way outside. And he lets the rain pour down on him. He probably looks a bit mad, letting himself get soaked, but he feels almost as if it's cleansing him. He isn't even fully aware that anyone is around to judge him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The day starts with Mal gone, but on Carlos's dresser is one of the sweet rolls that he likes, and a cup of warm green tea.

Mid-day, when Carlos is off doing something, he'll return to a sketch of himself playing with the Inquisition's dogs, a laugh in his eyes and on his face.

Then with the rain, when Carlos finds himself outside once more, a tarp floats over to keep the rain off his head. Off on the side, Mal leans against the doorway, her green eyes distant and a mock scowl on her face.

"Hey! Moron! Aren't you a healer? Shouldn't you know standing out in the freezing rain is going to give you a damned chill?"

Mal's presence has been a great help throughout the entire day. And now he turns and looks at her and then chuckles in an embarrassed sort of way.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming in," he promises her as he turns to get out from the rain. "I just didn't want to be cooped up any more."

"If you don't want to be cooped up, then we get on some cloaks and sludge across the bay, risking our lives to get to the docks." Came Mal's dry response, "You want to get some plague, stand out in the rain."

She turns and hands him a dry blanket when he's out of the damp. "Come on. We'll have to get you dried off before we go to dinner. They won't let you eat if you're waterlogged."

"That's... a good point," he admits. Mal has a way of saying the truth in as blunt a way as possible. He wraps himself in the blanket and uses a corner to dry his hair. "Dry clothes and food sounds like a good idea."

"Well of course it is. I said it." Mal said off-handedly, as she lead the way back up to their rooms. "Beyond that, I haven't had a chance to eat all day. Been running about like a chicken with no head."

"Really? What have you been doing?" he asked, curious about her day and how it was going. It would help distract him from anything that happened years ago.

"Trying to finish writing this damn proposal for the Research Department about all our research and why we need to try doing Rift and Shard testing magic off-site." Mal sighed heavily, "But every time I get started - BOOM."

She made the explosion noises, her hands going wide, "This place goes flipping Insane."

Carlos's brow rose a bit. "Are these the metaphorical kind of explosions like the strike and whatever? Or... literal... explosions?"

Because let's be real, with Mal you never know.

Mal stopped in her tracks, pursing her full lips before she stated simply, "You know, honestly, around here? I'm not sure."

Carlos opens his mouth to say something and thinks the better of it. He was about to comment on how Kirkwall had seen enough of literal explosions, but the whole idea of making light of such a thing is uncomfortable.

"Let's try to avoid both, right?" he says instead. Though he feels like a rock has settled into his stomach.

What kind of person thinks to joke about something like that?

"I think we should do that. Like. All the time." She reaches back and grabs his hand to drag him along. "Frankly I am too much of a fan for breathing."

"I'm a gan of you breathing too," Carlos replies with a slight smile. At least she has a way of getting him to focus on things that don't make guilt settle uncomfortably in his stomach.

"See? We keep doing this breathing thing and we'll both be okay." Mal stated firmly, as she gripped his hand. "So. Healing magic. Learn anything cool yet? Or is it all, 'balance with the spirits in your miiiiind' kind of nonsense?"

Carlos squeezes her hand lightly, thankful for the physical connection. "It takes a lot of preparation to communicate with spirits safely," he points out, though he is smiling. "I've pretty much got a nice grip on Creation magic, but Spirit Healing could take a few more years."

She squeezed back, swinging their hands a little as she led them through the entirely indoor path to the kitchens. She had learned her way around, at this point. "Well, as long as you know this and don't go mucking about with the Spirit of Dumb Boy Needs Sexy Times, I think we'll be okay then."

She smirks over at him, knowing he knows better than to truck with demons, but come on. If mages can't make jokes about their Harrowings, no one can.

Carlos laughs gently. "Spirit of what exactly?" he teases, because that was literally the weirdest title she could pull from thin air for a spirit.

"You know. Pretty boys making googly eyes at you." She smirked again, before she tipped her head thoughtfully, "We should see if we can get a real one to do that, honestly."

Carlos' ears turn red. "I really don't think anyone will be interested in that. Boy or girl. You though, you could probably get a gay to make those kinds of eyes at you."