faderift | semi-open | I'd rather be working for a paycheck

WHO: Krem and prior/current CR
WHAT: Krem is having a bad day and hiding away so that it doesn't become a Problem
WHEN: some time early Drakonis
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Depression, hints of dysphoria, general malaise

Things had been going less than swimmingly, but that was nothing new. Infighting, outfighting, elsewhere-fighting, and here he was, feeling like twice-boiled hell.

The surgery was supposed to stop this shit, Maker-be-damned, but he still didn't feel like he fit in his own skin, and it made him want to hit something, and more than that, it made him want to disappear. Nobody would have to see him like this, if it happened. He wasn't doing anyone any damned good like this. Sure, he'd given himself a job, mending every last sheet, garment, curtain, that had been passed along to him, but all this quiet and time to himself wasn't giving him any peace. His own idiot feelings were gnawing away at him without the distraction, his hands on autopilot making neat little patches and seams in damaged cloth.

The feeling was more familiar than he'd ever admit. But he didn't want anyone to see him sitting here in his armor, his security blanket, glaring down at the sheet he was mending like he'd set it ablaze with his eyes if he could as he tried to ignore the pressure and sting of tears that he absolutely refused to let fall.

It's a bad day, and he doesn't want to make it any worse on himself just because he's having emotions. Those were for people that had the time and patience for them.

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He could, but hugging someone else wasn't nearly as fun or nice. Course getting thrashed wasn't either, which it seemed like a good possibility of happening if he wasn't careful.

"I can see that," he comments, eyes gazing around at the different materials on the floor around Krem before settling on the man himself once more. The chill in the room and the hoarseness in Krem's voice certainly aren't helping alleviate the worry that's been building over the past several days.

"... Is everything alright?"

Hugging someone in full armor isn't a comfortable or easy thing to do though.

"If I say yes somehow I doubt you'll believe me and leave it at that," Krem sighs, finally looking up at Sam. He looks a good deal more tired than usual.

Probably not, but it was the thought that counts. Besides, it's not like Krem is wearing his helmet. There's that.

"Probably not," he agrees, his lips thinning a bit when Krem finally does look at him, noting the exhaustion. Sighing, Sam slowly makes his way over to where Krem is sitting, flopping down onto the floor next to him, though not so close as to take up Krem's personal space. Not yet at least.

"Did something happen?"

"No, Sam, it's just...I'm not...it's been a rough day," he finishes lamely, running his thumb over something that had been tucked against his palm as he worked. Like a coin, small and mostly smooth from friction. It's not something he'll be able to explain to Sam easily, and he's not exactly in the mood to try, either.

"Do... you want to talk about it?" It didn't seem likely that Krem did, but at least he could offer. "Or can I do something?" He's honestly hopeful that there is something he can do. Even if he cannot fix what ever it is, at least being there might help...? Course even though it's for Krem it's also him being a bit selfish, wanting to be close.

"Not particularly," he admits, picking some at one of the stitches. But he moves over just a bit as a silent invitation for Sam to at least sit so that he's not hovering in the doorway.

At seeing the movement, Sam takes the invitation to scoot over closer, enough so that their legs are touching and his arm bumps slightly into armor, but not so much that it's restricting Krem's movement for his stitching. His lips do thin out a bit as he glances sideways, clearly a bit annoyed by the amount of armor there was again - Krem why did you make wanting to lean his head difficult?

"How come you picked here of all the places to disappear off to?"

"It's quiet, and it's are that anyone else comes up here of their own volition," he replies, looking back down at the sheet in his lap and going back to slipping the needle into the fabric, putting a simple seam in the cloth instead of a rip that would only get bigger and harder to repair if it were left alone.

"Sorry for worrying you," Krem adds after a moment, his hands stilling once more.

At the apology, Sam sighs, turning his head a bit to regard Krem for a moment before lifting his hand and setting it on the back of the Krem's head, fingers lightly scratching at the short hair there. Seeing as he all the layers of armor on there wasn't much else in the regards to comfort he could give - not without getting poked by metal at least.

"You know you could come talk to me if something is bothering you. I'm here for that stuff, too."

"I know you are," Krem sighs in return, putting his sewing down and running his hand over his face. "I just don't want you to have to deal with this too. It's not something that's easy for me to explain."

"Nothing ever is," he mutters softly, but loud enough for Krem to hear, fingers still lightly rubbing along the back of his head. "I appreciate that you're looking out for me, but seeing you like this isn't very comforting. Just... get it off your chest.

semi-open | I'd rather be working for a paycheck

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