Hello! Here is another short one shot. Most will be random, though several motifs will most likely keep popping up in them. I apologize if this one seems random in dialog, and I will keep practicing on Cole. I hope you enjoy!
The licking flames heated the kitchen and charred the kettle black, water boiling within the metal rim. Perspiration had clung to Solona's brow as she awaited for the water to begin boiling, a basket full of plucked dandelions and their leaves resting upon the table. Even at these high altitudes, Solona was quite surprised the hardy little weed have even managed to germinate within the gardens. Many of the mothers had complained of the cheery flower being an eyesore amidst the beautiful trees within the garden. The young mage, however, had disagreed. She took comfort within the tiny plants, and saw them as her friends.
Indeed, for the years she had lived within the Korcari Wilds, the humble dandelion had thrived, and its mere existence had aided in her survival. There was simply so much one could do with the plant-eat it raw, dry the leaves with salt, wrap smoked strips of venison within boiled leaves...there was just so much. Such a simple way at preparing a meal. And now, in Skyhold, Solona was not entirely accustomed to all the techniques of cooking. Everything just seemed far too...complex. All the hussle and bussle. She had never seen so much of it in one place before. Sometimes, she missed the stillness of the Wilds. At times, Skyhold and her walls felt too much like a Circle. It didn't entirely ease the girl's mind with the knowledge that Templars were currently present within the walls, or that the Inquisition's Commander was one. Or rather, an ex Templar.
Quietly, Solona began to hum a tune she had come to love, nurturing and gentle. Once We Were was a song she dearly admired, though would never dare sing. Not in this life, or the next.
"You can sing, but will not. Why do you not sing?"
Solona had paused in her humming, taken off guard at the presence she had once more failed to realize, head turning towards the boy in stitched leathers, "I...just do not want to sing." She had peered upon the young man, now only realizing he carried a bowl of crushed mints. When did he waltz in here and manage to crush up mints without her noticing?
"You should. You would like it if you sang."
"I am not like the bard at the tavern or Varric, Cole. I draw, not sing." Solona stated, crossing her arms as if in a defensive manner.
"But you can. It would help loosen the knots. It wouldn't tear them." Cole replied, standing stiffly, bowl still in hand.
The young woman sighed, shaking her head, "Please stop. I do not want to think about it." Solona spoke, hand unconsciously drifting to pick up a dandelion, fingers caressing the petals.
Cole's eyes had drifted towards her hands, fragile, familiar yet sad, "It reminds you of home."
Upon hearing those words, a smile toyed upon the edges of the mage's features, "And where is home?"
The young man had paused, as if searching her pain for an answer, though his eyes did not leave the plant within her hands, now cut off from life, "Wherever the dandelion grows. Soft petals lick the naked flesh, core cheery, a symbol of the sun. First comes bright yellow, then white cotton with seeds. 'Make a wish. Make a wish.' Mother says, 'Make a wish then blow, blow your dreams into the skies, and the wind shall carry them to the Maker's side.'...but it never came true. The Maker did not hear my prayers. And now, I am this. The Scorn of the Maker's Chosen. Apostate, Malificar-Blood Mage. The Maker would not listen to me as a girl. He will not listen to me now."
"No. He would not." Solona assured softly, "The Chantry teaches us that Blood Mages will not have peace in this life, or the next. I did not want to become tranquil. So now, I am this."
"You miss your mother. And your father. You wanted to keep their memories safe. You didn't want to lose them. That's why you like dandelions. They are your parents. What you remember." Cole spoke, stated as his eyes moved towards her own, looking behind her eyes, for she lived in her head, "I'm sorry they took you away from them."
"I am sorry, too. Do you remember much of your parents?" Solona questioned, curious.
The odd boy looked upon her, staring for several seconds before speaking, "No."
"Oh. I am sorry."
"You shouldn't. I do not hurt. Thank you, though. You are trying to help me, but it should be the other way around."
"We are friends? Friends help each other." The girl smiled, pausing to wipe the sweat from her brow, water just beginning to boil.
"Like with you helping me where to put ink on the paper?" Cole questioned, trying to comprehend through heavy bangs.
"Yes, like that." Solona nodded in confirmation, smile turning into a grin as the young man's lips ever so faintly molded into a hesitant beam.
"Friends. Yes. I like how that feels, how when you use it, you give the word its true meaning. It is good." The rogue spoke, hat bobbing rhythmically as he spoke.
"I am glad you like that." The young woman's eyes soon fell to the plant within her hands, thoughts churning, "Cole, you hear things? See things? Like...things people like...me can't? Is...is this dandelion dead? Did it ever truly live?" Solona prodded, fumbling upon her words, tongue tied.
Cole nodded, understanding her meaning despite her wording and focused upon the plant, silent for several seconds, "It's...uh...cold, dark, damp without sunlight, lost in darkness, no food, no water, starving, drowning in the cold, still, but not still. Dying slow, yellow cheer fading, stem bent and broken, torn from an earthen home...yet a new home in hands, small, fragile, tender...warm. No fear, no sadness but...peace."
The young man had then faltered, focusing anew, "It likes the way its broken body rests in your hands, caring yet firm, like the womb it resided in down below where Old Songs sing. It is content no matter what its fate. You don't have to worry, Solona. It understands."
The woman had remained quiet, listening to what he had said, "Thank you. I know it's silly, but...I've been thinking if plants are alive, just like people. But I can't feel a heartbeat to them, and they are cold to touch, so they have no blood. But if you break the stem you can see liquid ooze out of it. Is that the plant's blood? But...hmmmm...they are kind of like...demons. Spirits, I think? If they are not like people...they must be like spirits. Because...Because spirits don't bleed, and plants don't bleed...and spirits are cold...but not rage demons...oh! Despair demons are cold!"
"...But...I am not a dandelion." Cole stated, slow, tongue twisting into a roll.
"...No...no, you are not. Either way...thank you. For helping me. Thank you for trying." She smiled gently, the knot tied too tight.
He had nodded, head bobbing slightly, "Yes. That...is what friends do? I...don't know. I hope I say it right."
"Yes, that's right. That's what friends do. Help each other. But...what are you doing with the mints?" Solona questioned, curious as her eyes focused upon the boy.
"The cats like to play." Cole stated, and upon realizing that was the only answer he was going to give, the young mage left it at that.
"There are kitties here? I didn't know that!" Solona exclaimed, the bubbling and boiling of the raging water briefly drawing her attention away from Compassion as she focused on preparing the leaves, setting the lone little weed upon the table.
Once finished, the woman had turned her attention towards the odd man, only to find the kitchen completely vacant save for herself. Looking, high and low, but finding so sign, she had simply shook her head. Gingerly did her hands once more envelope the dandelion that lay upon the wooden table, otherworldly words whorling within her mind in wonder.
"Peace..." Solona had echoed softly, that simple word ringing within her head. Odd how such a tiny thing sounded so strong. Her eyes had fallen to the vibrant core of the small plant, cheer slowly fading.
"Dandelions never lie." She had quoted, for it was something her mother had said numerous times-though for the life of her, she could not remember why-for at the time she was merely four winters.
Her mind had continued to dwell upon what Cole had said, Solona merely standing still, holding the broken creature. She did not mind. The dandelion took solace in her kindness, in her tiny hands that commanded the very Fade. In that moment, holding and caring for that simple plant had meant the world to her. For within her hand, she was allowed to relive the memories of a little girl that was meant to be anything but this. With the dandelion within her hands, she was allowed the hold the hands of her parents through a memory-however faded, yet deeply cherished.
Thank you for reading and supporting! I really only have two other ideas for one shots after this, but I'm open for any suggestions. Either way, thank you once more for reading/favoriting/following/reviewing!