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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.

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"Application of...heatherum. Foxite."

Her nose wrinkled faintly, trying to remember. Her fingers twitched and curled inwards towards her palm.

"Elfroot. And..."

Not important. Her eyes fixed on him again, face shadowed by that magnificent hat of his. How lucky to have a place to hide at all times. The corner of her mouth creases gently.

"You're back."

He didn't like the way all of those sounded, in that order. Herbs could be used for so many things, good or ill. Often, they didn't last forever. Sometimes they did. She didn't want to talk about it.

"Yes. The Mire's full of dead things, but there are enough people there to start bringing life. There will be more to do, elsewhere, soon."

"And you'll go again. To help."

She'd wanted to help, though uncertain how. Like this, she wasn't going to be of much help to anyone, unable even to keep from bumping into walls when walking. "I want to go too. Counted too many steps in circles, knowing the stones and the bones inside but never touching. Just a pair of eyes. They have enough."

A small, annoyed huff escaped her lips.

A sympathetic frown. "It must be different when people remember."

Her brother. Her image was locked inside his mind, inextricable, etched in lines of love. He could feel how it tied back to her pain, the way he protected her. The way he sometimes tried. The way he sometimes failed.

"He thinks it's better."

"He wants to fix me."

There's a stubborn note to her voice that says she's not as convinced as he is, and she gives the wall a small bump with her head, as though it might rattle something loose.

"It doesn't feel like fixing. Just...sludge. Sliding down, slow. They're there, still. Shut your eyes and hold your ears, but they're always there."

With a small grunt of disgust she shoves out one foot from beneath her.

"He makes me wear boots."

The indignity of it all.

"You could take them off."

Just saying. What Simon didn't see wouldn't hurt him — so long as she didn't get into trouble.

"They're watching now. Have to find a better place to hide them next time." Mutiny, yes. The shoes would have to go. Perhaps a banner pole, very high up on the battlements.

She tips her head towards Cole again, frowning. "Some people faded here, fog on glass like they were never there. There's fighting and dying and sadness...love, too. It all tangles together and I can't find the ends of the string yet. Not like this."

He came here to listen, brushing off the dead things from the Mire. She'll help if she can, but it's very foggy just now.

"I can grasp the ones whose need is greatest. The rest will reveal themselves." The ones that stand out. The most pressing troubles. In the course of handling those, others will inevitably make themselves known. It just would have been nice if she had been able to share it with him.

That doesn't mean he's going to leave her here. Not when she's more alone when most. She needs him, too.

"Would you like to come along? I could help you hide — help you stay hidden. You'd just have to stay quiet."

"Shadow of a shadow," she murmred with crooked lips, drawing her feet under her again. "I can be quiet."

Another moment of thought and she frowned, as though suddenly remembering something. "The templars...I felt them here. One who was empty inside and needed to hear the song again, who was frightened of us. They put him under the stone, but not far enough to matter. Maybe not now, but..."

A lead. Worth looking into, anyway. More might occur to her if she had time to think on it, but it was rooting through a mire all its own at this point.

It's something. Something more than nothing. But... first things first.

He stands, careful not to let any more of the bed frame collapse. He holds a hand out toward her - they won't need to hold hands the entire time, but it'll be easier to start with some point of connection.

"You should probably leave them here." The boots. "We can come back when you're ready for them to see you again."

Slowly her hand stretches for his, fingers lacing together. There's the briefest tug as she finds her feet and her balance, before carefully stepping on the heel of each boot and peeling them off, one at a time. Cold shoots up her feet the second they hit the floor, but it feels...

She can't readily identify the need, but it's there. The need to feel it all, up against her skin, grounding her. Toes wiggle against the air, finally free, and she seems a little more wakeful if nothing else.

"Time to disappear?" she questions with a curious tilt of her head.

"Slipping silent, secret footfalls, a wind through the door." He smiles under the brim of his hat. Anyone else he would be worried about keeping hidden, worried that it would sap him of his energy too quickly. She's different. This will be fun.

"We'll still be there, but they won't know."

He steps away, then, leading her toward the door.

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