(no subject)

[colecomfort]

WHO: Cole & Several (includes OPEN THREAD for Rifters)
WHAT: Compassion returns to Skyhold.
WHEN: Early-Mid Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Cole works best with individualized threads rather than completely open ones. Please don't be afraid to contact me (Plurk or PM) if you'd like to set something up! Prompts will be posted in comments.

Comments

[Open to Rifters] Prose setup, but brackets welcome

[colecomfort]

The song is scattered around Skyhold now, and parts of it linger in other places — places it is needed. The fragmented tunes concerned him at first, but for now, it's good that they are here. Better a broken song than none at all.

He seeks them out. It's harder to know them as well as he knew Her — there's so many of them. But he can try.

He appears in front of them, a shy figure coalescing from a puff of smoke.

"You're still alive. That's good."

[demonicbeauty]

She recognized him by the hat. But recognizing something and feeling comfortable with it were two very different things. And when he appeared in front of her, the spike of fear wasn't so much at him materializing. Elves did that in Valeria all the time. It was that, as far as she knew, he was the only person in Skyhold who knew.

Who knew that she was dangerous.

Ariadne had gone about the place as best she could, given the circumstances. She'd managed to make herself useful here and there, whether it was cleaning up blood in the healers' tents or fetching and carrying wood. And of course, playing her flute for the children.

To all appearances, she was completely innocuous.

But Cole knew better. Cole had seen her talons. And seen her rip through a demon like tissue paper. And after going so long without seeing him, she'd sort of hoped it would all be forgotten.

Evidently not.

"Alive," she said, eyes going so wide that the whites could be seen all around the gray. "Yes."

[colecomfort]

"If it breaks again, it might not come back." Or it might not be strong enough. Was it, even now? So many things were still uncertain.

She was scared of him. Like a lot of people were, and yet not. Not because of what he was.

"You're Ariadne." They hadn't had time for names before. By now, it was easy enough to find out. "I'm Cole."

[motherfucking_ghost]

Eventually, eventually, Church is going to start getting used to this magic bullshit. Today is not that day. Despite the super pale kid who needs a haircut and, like, some god damn sunlight looking all meek and shy, that he appears out of nowhere has Church jumping almost out of his shiny new skin.

"Oh my god you people and your god damn magic are going to give a guy a heart attack!" He grips his chest, only partly for dramatic purposes. "And then I won't be alive, which is pretty bad."

[colecomfort]

Cole stays still when the man jumps, not wanting to spook him any more. Some of the words he uses don't make sense... heart attack? But he can ask about that later.

"You're a new one," he notes. "Recently drawn through the rift. Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten."

He stands up, then. Tall, but still shy, his fingers idly playing with one another in front of himself.

"I'm Cole."

[foxsays]

Thanks to the 'borrowed' whetstone, the sudden appearance of a person almost has her losing fingers when she jumps and curses, knife clattering to her feet as she tries to catch her breath. She bends to retrieve it, staring so long it's probably verging on rude but usually people disappear into smoke, not the other way around.

"Amico," her voice is too high, shaky like she might laugh, "I appreciate the...the sentiment? Though perhaps not so abruptly."

The last time anything did that, it was falling through the rift as something tall and spindly screamed and raked down with claws, and it's an effort to flick the blade closed and tuck it back in her pocket.

[colecomfort]

He reaches for the knife at first, but draws his hand back when she bends, when he feels the weight of her staring. Another one from another world. It's hard enough when he frightens people from this one.

At least she does appreciate the meaning behind his words.

"I wanted to make sure. The song's scattered now, and we can't afford to lose it again." A small smile creeps in as he continues. "But there's even more here. That's good, too."

Oh. Has he met this one yet? He doesn't think so. "I'm Cole."

[fayth]

"Ah," the sudden appearance was surprising to say the least, almost enough for the bundle of firewood Yuna had been carrying to jump from her arms -- though she managed to keep a hold on it. "It's you..." she hadn't seen him since that first excursion, since she'd arrived in this world... How long ago was that now?

"Um, yes," she paused, letting his observation sink in. She hadn't really ventured outside of Skyhold since they'd arrived back then, the loss of her aeons dealing quite the blow to her means of protecting herself in the face of demons. But whether or not it was good that she was still here... that remained to be seen.

"You... you're all right, too?"

[colecomfort]

"Yes," he answered simply. "I made it back from the Mire."

He looked up at the firewood in her arms. "You're bringing wood to the tavern -- I could help." He stood, then, preparing to follow her.

[laurenande]

It was not something widely known, even in Arda, but a resting elf, even one stood upright and staring into the distance, was a creature quite easily taken unawares. True, it was something of a challenge to sneak up on one of the Eldar, but it was not unheard of, especially if their rest was peaceful and they were at ease.

Galadriel had partaken in sleep and dreaming since she had come to Thedas but both were new, in practice and concept. They were unusual activities, by their very nature, and she often forgot they were even options. When she tired in Skyhold, her first inclination was not to seek out a bed or slumber. As she was wont, she found something of beauty and allowed her mind to rest as she watched it. Thus far, she found that she preferred standing on the walls of the fortress. The distance beyond Skyhold was calming and ageless, no matter the time of day; she found great beauty in the colors of the winter weather above the Frostbacks, and it was a simple thing to lose herself in the quiet majesty of them.

As it was, she was stood on the battlements, tall and unmoving. It would have been easy to mistake her for a statue, if not for the gentle, listless swirl of her light gowns or the occasional shuffling of the heavy, plain cloak she wore atop them. She was not at the edge of the battlement, but her gaze was set outward, locked on the distant, misty horizon. Cole's quiet arrival was not enough to stir her from her waking trance, even as he obscured the view, but his words managed it quickly enough.

Galadriel's gaze had not been unfocused, not exactly, but it had lacked a certain presence of mind. She blinked quickly as she came back to herself, like a daydreamer caught in the act. With a speed that belied her surprise, she drew herself up just a bit taller and her gaze snapped to Cole. There was a moment of silence as her faculties returned to her, like someone roused from a nap and thrown immediately into an urgent task, but her politely startled expression didn't darken.

In fact, despite her surprise at being woken (insofar as it counted as waking), she seemed nearly delighted. A confused but honest smile quirked her lips upward and she tilted her head forward to better peer beneath the brim of his wide hat.

"A fine sentiment," Galadriel said, at last, "and something I continue to be glad of, myself."

There was something about him that felt almost...familiar, but she could not place it.

Curiously, she had a great deal of trouble placing him.

She knew she had seen him before. She could recall the shape of him, in passing if nothing more, but only just. Memories of individual moments, of instants where he stood starkly against the stones of Skyhold or the scenery of Thedas? Those eluded her grasp like shapes in fog.

It should have been worrisome, that.

There were precious few creatures who could evade her sight, and fewer still who could conceal themselves from her so utterly, but she couldn't quite muster any actual concern.

It was odd to think it, much less experience it, but he felt like an old friend.

"Have we met before, mellon nin?" The question was, perhaps, more blunt than it ought to have been. She was certain the answer was 'no,' but something in her refused to agree.

[colecomfort]

He had caught glimpses of her that first day, on the field near Haven. White light, not obscuring the light of the mark but glowing alongside it, gentle and steady and strong. That day had been chaos, no time to stop and admire. Barely enough time to question.

He'd been hesitant to approach her since then. Too bright, so beautiful it almost hurt. He knew the light wasn't meant for him, but he still felt it. The same way he felt the meaning of those words, though his ears didn't understand them: mellon nin. Friend.

It actually didn't hurt to look at her. Not his eyes. He felt the pull more in his heart.

"We haven't spoken," he clarified, "but — I see. I was there when the sky brought you here. I helped send the demons back to the Fade."

He didn't know whether she had managed to see him in turn. He should be so lucky.

[Closed] River

[colecomfort]

He'd known she was here since before he left. A familiar presence, a cloud that caught the whispers and stray threads. They trailed around and past her, rather than through.

He hadn't said hello. They hadn't seen one another, not with eyes, and it was enough, for the time being, just to know.

On returning, however, he looked. He could see how things had changed in his absence — some of them — but it would be nice to hear from someone who had experienced it firsthand. Who knew how to look and listen.

[girlinthebox]

Things were muddier today. Simon had been trying in vain to keep her powers in check, to stop the voices. For lack of better options he'd given her a potion that made things drag, sleepy and slow. Dreamlike, but isolated, the voices dimmer, as though being heard through water.

Resentful, she'd crept away from the healer's tents and tucked herself into one of the abandoned rooms up on the battlements, curled up on one side of a broken bed and leaning against the stone. Nothing. Nothing but silence and echoes of silence.

Wait. No. Something closer. Close enough to touch. Her eyes strayed upwards, struggling to focus. The boy. The strange boy, if you asked Bruce.

"...Cole?"

[Closed] Pel - The Library

[colecomfort]

Cole never lingers in one place for very long, but passing slowly through the crowded places in Skyhold is an easy way to catch scraps of worry and hurt. He finds her there, her presence whispering something like other elves he's met here. They came together. They're a family.

There are threads of family spindling out from her in all directions, in fact. Light, wavy, wispy things. Hard to tell if they're still connected, or only flapping in the wind.

She is asleep on a book, a cold cup of tea on the table next to her. But she will wake soon, and the tea will be hot and fresh.

[mythalenaste]

When she does wake, she starts up, irritated immediately with herself for falling asleep while working again. She squints at the steam coming from her tea, though, and blearily wonders who did that for her. Her heart is touched by the gesture, whoever is responsible. Little comforts, little kindnesses seem more acceptable now that she is no longer Keeper's First and giving everything away as quickly as she gets it.

She reaches for the cup, warming her hands half an inch away from the sides.

[Closed] Sam - Smithing

[colecomfort]

For a while after he found Sam again, he only watched. Sitting on a nearby table, his legs dangling off the edge. The room was hot, the clanging of the hammer rhythmic and loud, almost piercing. None of it bothered him.

It was only after a long stretch, at a point where Sam was about to rest, that Cole spoke.

"It doesn't want to bend, not even when the fire makes it soft. It wants to be cold, hard, immovable." He tilted his head from one side to the other. "It's not at all like magic."

[el_tybs]

The weight of the hammer and the sound of the metal were comforting for how they helped drown things out, both physically and mentally. Hearing about the council considering Harrowings... with having to focus on the work in his hand it was easier to organize his thoughts. Practicing his magic would have done the same, but he needed some space from magic at the moment.

When the piece is finally finished is when Sam decides to call it a day, dipping the metal into the trough of water to set it. He's barely set it down after it's done when he starts at the voice, turning around quickly to see whom else was in the armory with him.

Curious stare, large hat, unusual clothing- "Spirit," he addresses him, blinking in surprise. After a moment of registering what he's said, Sam give a small smile. "No, it's not. Quite the opposite." It's why he enjoyed this work, similar but completely different to magic.

[Closed] Isabela - the tavern

[colecomfort]

Cole likes the tavern. Joy and relief mixes with sorrow and longing there, and music ties together the minds and hearts of those who listen. On the rare occasion he sees nothing to be done, he will go there. Sooner or later, he will find something.

Sometimes he lets himself be pulled by the idle longings that have a sweeter sting. It could almost be called an indulgence, because there isn't really anything he can do about them, but he listens anyway.

And that is how he ends up sitting cross-legged on a barrel across from a pirate.

"The floor never rolls. The wind only sprays snow, and when it blows, the flap of a banner is nothing like a sail."

[easternseaqueen]

Said pirate coughed into her drink.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she demanded, staring at the young man across the way.

She couldn't recall quite if she recognized him or not. Maybe she'd seen him around. He seemed a quiet sort. Probably too young to get involved in the sorts of things Isabela was fond of.

Either way. That was weird.

The Healing Tents

[eolasemah]

The night was barely over, the sky still dark and grey when Sina jolted awake and gasped for breath. As always, her small tent was lit an eerie flickering green by the shard, the pain of which felt as though it was crawling into her very bone marrow. Still laboring to breathe, she pressed her hand to the mark, her own magic seeping in around it to gently open the airways and encourage her heart to beat more regularly. It had to be done periodically; she hated when it happened in the middle of the night, but at least there was never a chance she wouldn't be awake to deal with it before it took her.

Now fully awake yet still exhausted, Sina drew up her blanket and scooted to the edge of the tent, peering out at the pre-dawn grounds of Skyhold. She leaned her sweaty head against the tent pole and concentrated on taking measured breaths, though her mind began to slip in the direction of Nahariel on her mission and her clan, so very far away. Her thin hand clutched around the glittering shard protruding from her sternum; she wished she could just tear it out and go back to normal, return across the sea, be with her people. Instead, she was being slowly killed by a force nobody understood or had any way of controlling.

[colecomfort]

There was pain here, the kind that nobody knew how to stop or heal -- nobody in Skyhold, anyway (Solas, where are you?). Most of them only had to worry about a tingling in their hand. This one threatened to stop her heart.

As he sat nearby, on the other side of the tent, the wandering of her mind pulled at him. Home was a faraway, fragmented thing, split between the wandering clan and her friend. There was none of it here. But there was something he could bring.

A song she had grown up hearing, one she remembered well. He hummed a couple of lines, slightly out of tune, but well enough to be recognized.

The Garden

[fleurdesel]

Even with all the changes made to her routine as a member of the Inquisition and now the Council of Magi- Adelaide attempts to spend at least an hour in the gardens either tending to the growing herbs or meditating. Today it is more the former than the latter, sleeves rolled back, bent to check how they are pruned, how they grow. It is not her skill but now and then she gives the barest nudge with Compassion to smooth out a kink in a vine or help untangle knotted roots- though more often than not she manages that by hand.

A Dalish mage would be better suited to this with their magics but attempting to find new applications for her magic is one thing that brings Adelaide joy. For once she's actually humming faintly to herself under her breath, the usual soothing song of Compassion.

[colecomfort]

He knows that song, though he's never sung it before. It resonates at the back of his skull and makes him very aware of his fingers. He's been sat on a nearby wall for a short while, now, watching her.

It's mesmerizing how the plants unbend under her hand. Could he do something like that? He doesn't know. He never thought to even try.

...no. Probably not. The song is familiar, but it's humming through her magic. It's a thing only a mage can do, with a spirit's help.

He's still entranced.

"They only want to grow, but they don't have a path," he muses. "Roots can run into each other, sunlight can be hard to reach. You're helping them be their best."

let me know if this is ok!

[arlathvhen]

At first, she'd suspected it was her clanmates. Gavin was the chief suspect, because only clanmates could have known to give her such selected items, and Gavin was the one who had always given her presents when he knew that she was frustrated with him. But he denied responsibility, and he had no reason to lie to her. But who else would have gotten her a copper ring, that looked so much like the one she had traded for, the first time she brought an animal she hunted with her own bow to a town? Who else would give her a ribbon so much like the one a girl had once brought Beleth during arlathvhen, before kissing her (Beleth remembered how awkward it had been, because they were both laughing at the time, but how fun, how the way their teeth clicked together just made them laugh harder).

But then a gift appeared on her bedroll that made her realize something was up. It was piece of bark, and a sketchy doodle of a halla on the other side. Whoever had done it hadn't quite managed to draw the way that Sorrel had, but it was close enough for her to remember the way her twin had showed her the drawing, before throwing it in the fire, a secret for the two of them. How could anyone have known...?

After thinking it over, Beleth decides to try to detective this, just like Jevlan and Donnen in Hard in Hightown. She got a present of her own for the mystery gift giver--a collection of feathers, taken from the floor of the rookery, tied together with string and a few pretty stones Beleth had drilled a hole through. A little charm, one that a Dalish could take to be a tribute to Dirthamen, or an outsider could just find pretty. This was tucked in a note that she put next to her bed, where the gifts had appeared, the note simply saying: Thank you, but why?

That accomplished, she moved up to the roof, to peer down at the bed. Surely, from here no one would be able to see her.

...Right?

[colecomfort]

She would see him, after a time, passing through, on his way from one part of Skyhold to another. If she recalled nothing else about him, likely she would at least recognize him. A boy she'd met on the road from Haven, wasn't he?

He walked past her bedroll, paying no particular attention to it. One step, then another. Then he stopped. The brim of his hat swayed a little as he turned his head. A pause before he turned around more fully, looking down at the package she had left. He crouched down, his fingers brushing against the paper.

He vanished, and the fact of what had just occurred would slip against her memory, not wanting to stick. Until she heard his voice nearby.

"It doesn't work like that."

He was sitting a little ways away on the roof, his legs crossed under him.