keenly: (I would love to live by the sea)
Colin ([personal profile] keenly) wrote in [community profile] faderift2020-06-20 12:22 pm

open

WHO: Colin + YOU
WHAT: Returning from the jungle
WHEN: Current
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES:




I. The Return

All Colin really wants at the moment is to flop down into his bed. Not because he's particularly tired, at the moment, but because he wants to be reassured that it still feels as good as he remembers. He drifts among the crowd at the docks, reunions happening all around as people greet their friends, but manages to stick closely to Athessa and limit his greetings to people he's close to. Not tired, but overwhelmed. There's an aching hollowness to him, and the pressing crowd only increases his discomfort.

II. Home

It is not Colin's presence anywhere in the Gallows that might be noted now, but his absence from it. His typical silence on the crystals and the journals now applies to his own life. For several days after returning, for as long as he can get away with claiming to be ill, he is closed up in his apartment in Hightown. If you want to speak with him, make him stop hiding, or get him to cook anything for you, you'll have to meet him here.

III. Wildcard

coquettish_trees: (oh really?)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-06-27 04:39 pm (UTC)(link)
The quizzical look on Alexandrie’s face makes it obvious that having never been bathed by anyone is an entirely foreign concept to her—and then she looks delighted and begins playfully herding him toward the bath like a mother hen fluttering over a wayward chick. (One careful to always leave enough physical room for it to turn and say ‘no’.)

“Tell me you have at least been taking advantage of the oils I left!” she exclaims in mock horror, rather hoping he hasn’t, as that means she can fuss harder.
coquettish_trees: (lol r u srs)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-03 05:39 pm (UTC)(link)
The look she gives him, or gives the back of his head at least, as she herds him into the room where the tub is steaming gently as promised is something akin to the look he might give someone in a bakery who said ‘I haven’t wanted to use up the flour, so I mostly bake using stones’. Really Colin, is it even a bath then?

“Then today shall be the third,” Alexandrie states in a tone that brooks no disagreement. “Are you injured at all, such that you need help undressing?”
coquettish_trees: (mischief)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-08 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)
The temptation to have them burned is, in fact, shared by Alexandrie, and is only stayed because she knows how Colin dislikes things going to waste. They will, however, be very very washed. She hums in self-satisfaction to hear his obvious enjoyment and pulls a plushly cushioned stool to the head of the tub to seat herself on before reaching to loose his hair and set to the task of detangling it with nimble fingers.

“Necessity is an effective tutor,” she agrees, before changing her tone to one of playful suggestion “Unless the lesson was come by more... interestingly?”
coquettish_trees: (hat serious)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-09 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
A affectedly sympathetic cluck for 'no sex', although that line of inquiry is abandoned quickly enough with a delighted exclamation.

"Lady Barra! A delightful woman. I—" Ah. Captured. More softly then, "This was her first mission outside Kirkwall, no? That is... I am glad you were with her."
coquettish_trees: (looking down 2)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-09 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
She stays quiet, but doesn't pause in her work. The knots and snarls and places where the gentle wave of his hair grabs at itself are found and put to rights one by one until the run of her fingers through it catches nothing.

And then she is running her fingers through it slowly just to do so.

It is a waiting quiet.
coquettish_trees: (considering cloak)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-09 01:59 am (UTC)(link)
Alexandrie hums her inquiry as she bends to retrieve a cup to dip into the water beside Colin and pour it carefully over his head, her other hand set just above his forehead to keep it from cascading down his face.
coquettish_trees: (hat serious)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-09 02:24 am (UTC)(link)
The gesture is repeated—warm water sluicing down hair, across shoulders—and once more again before she trades the cup for a bar of fragrant soap to lather in her hands and massage across his scalp.

“I should call him hypocrite for hurting you,” she says softly, “but I do not think Byerly forgives himself anything either.”
coquettish_trees: (looking down 2)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-09 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
“Ah, mon chou,” she sighs as well, idly patterning circles with her hands as she works the soap through his hair. “Honesty can be as sharp a knife as any other.

“And sometimes it hurts as much to keep as it does to let go.”
coquettish_trees: (considering cloak)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-09 02:56 am (UTC)(link)
For me.

“For all.” She wipes her hands on a cloth, takes up the cup again to wash the bubbles away.
coquettish_trees: (sad look away)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-09 03:52 am (UTC)(link)
“I did not need to,” she replies evenly over the sound of water. “I was never angry with you, cher. I was angry with all those who choked your mind with so much fear that you could not see a single path on this earth you could bear to tread.

“And I was angry with myself, for not making you feel safe enough.”
Edited 2020-07-09 03:53 (UTC)
coquettish_trees: (hat serious)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-09 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)
She squeezes back, will hold Colin's hand as long as he wishes her to before she reclaims it to take up a cloth and start on his shoulders.

"Can you not yet forgive yourself, then?"
coquettish_trees: (looking down)

[personal profile] coquettish_trees 2020-07-15 11:55 pm (UTC)(link)
She hums an affirmative rather than nodding, as he cannot see her, and takes advantage of the shifting to get at his upper back as well. Alexandrie’s touch is gentle and firm; time and scented soap and hot water judged far superior to scrubbing.

“We are all on such a journey, I think. Not from the same places, but on our way to forgive ourselves.” She huffs something like a laugh, something like a sigh. “Once we believe we deserve to be forgiven, at least.”

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