"Friends"
"Can't you teach me how to defend myself?"
"There is an order to this, da'len. Patience."
"But what if I am attacked again? What if-"
"Silence!" He slammed his staff onto the ground, the air rippled around him as he stared the young woman down. "First you must learn to control yourself. Learn the practical uses of magic. The building blocks."
She watched the conversation drag on, the elderly man hobbling back and forth as he lectured the young woman. Liz saw herself sitting in the snow, looking up at him in wonder. Learning about the new world. Absorbing every bit of information like a sponge.
She snorted. She'd always been a good student.
That was… when she learned a few basic things. Like heating water in a pot within a matter of seconds, or keeping yourself warm, even the barrier trick on her feet. The first thing she'd learned that week was how to heighten her senses. The first step to learning how to shapeshift. Becoming one with nature.
Which hadn't been difficult, in her opinion. She'd always been close to nature, anyway.
Athras had been pleased.
Liz smiled sadly, watching the scene slowly dissolve into the air, leaving her in an empty room.
Ever since that time a few days back, when the images of Elise and Erin had been banished in a blinding white light, her dreams have been quiet. Liz figured out that, if she thought about it hard enough. Willed it into existence. She could replay memories on the white wall. But… beyond that, nothing. She was stuck in the room. No windows, no doors.
She didn't want to leave, if she were to be honest. It was safe here. Safe was good.
So she sat there, in silence. Staring at the wall. Watching. Remembering. Allowing herself to grieve for the loss of her mentor, her sister, her innocence from Earth.
Cole
'Liz won't wake up.' Cole thought to himself as he walked out of Josephine's office, leaving her a glass of water and a sweet treat he'd liberated from the kitchens. It was a thought that often crossed his mind in the days that followed the death of the young woman's mentor.
Her screams had been absolutely heartwrenching. He could tell that it still bothered the Inquisitor very much, as he's been burying himself in his work much more these passed days. Cole wasn't the only one worried for the young man.
Cole then returned to the kitchens, feet not making any noise as he shifted across the stone floor. He'd heard Jade, quite loudly, expressing her disdain for whoever stole all of her lard. Oftentimes the dwarf was holed up in the kitchens in the actual fortress, but today she was at the Herald's Rest cooking up something 'special'.
So, he decided to lend a hand.
Quietly, he made his way across the upper courtyard with a crate of lard in tote. His eyes barely peeked over the top of the wooden crate, hat shifting and almost getting in his vision. He paid no mind to how his knuckles began turning white by the time he got to the building.
The lanky rogue was barely able to get the door open, with some odd balancing act with the heavy crate. It creaked open, though no one paid any heed. The roar of conversation hit him as he entered, followed by the stench of unwashed bodies and watered down ale. His blue eyes passed over the crowd and zeroed in on Jade, who was standing near the bar counter next to Cabot.
"Hey, were you the one that took my lard?" Jade wrinkled her nose up at the scraggly looking rogue as he stood in front of the dwarf. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a loud crashing noise at his right.
'THUMP!'
'CRASH!'
Breaking glass and wood could be heard, along with the distinct sound of grunts as someone fell. Down the stairs. Cole turned, eyes wide from underneath his wide brimmed hat. 'What...'
"Uuuuuuuggghhhh…."
He could feel the amusement rolling off of the blonde elf from the second floor as she tried to stifle her cackles. The burly Qunari was laying at the bottom of the staircase, face down. Broken boards were scattered atop him. The stairs themselves looked like they'd broken underneath the strain. The tavern went unnervingly quiet as they watched the scene unfold.
"The Iron Bull? Are you hurt?" Cole asked, concerned. He didn't want to move, since he was in the middle of handing the crate to Jade.
"Uuurmph...Who put so much lard on the stairs?" The mercenary grumbled, rubbing his sore rump. A chunk of the wooden railing was stuck to his massive horns as he looked up and spotted the spirit. His eye squinted and he pointed his finger accusingly, "Hey, Demon. Was it you?"
"Very observant, Chief." Krem stated sarcastically from behind the Ben-Hassrath.
Panicked, the spirit handed Jade the crate and willed himself out of sight. Everyone in the room experienced a brief sense of confusion, before the scene repeated itself. The Iron Bull began rubbing his rump.
"Uuurmph … Who put so much lard on the stairs?" He grumbled, yet again. His eye zeroed in on the dwarf standing next to the bar counter. The man rose his brow at the sight, "….Huh, I didn't take you for the crafty type. Vindictive, yes. But, wait, what did I do to deserve it?"
"What? Why would I waste perfectly good lard on your fat arse?" Jade flushed at his accusation, hackles risen. That's when the young woman noticed she was carrying the crate. "Wait. When...?"
The warrior stood up straight and cracked his neck, "Hey, now. I'm not fat. This is pure muscle."
Just to prove a point, the dwarf set the crate down and slapped his stomach. "I wasn't aware muscles jiggled."
That's what did it. Sera began cackling from her perch upstairs, doubling over and holding her stomach as she did so. The group began sassing one another just as Cole made his retreat.
He skittered his way out into the chilly mountain air, eyes darting around to make sure not to bump into anyone.
He'd done what he could and was intent on going to check in on the unconscious Trevelyan. He was wary, keeping watch to make sure she didn't succumb to her thoughts. The niggling feelings in the back of her mind were disconcerting, to say the least. She was suffering, sorrow—searing at the edges of her sanity. Everything felt like too much. Too much.
He didn't want her light to die out.
"Cole, you just checked in on her an hour ago." Solas sighed when the rogue peeked his head into Liz's bedroom for the sixth time that day. His hat pressed against the door, settling one his head in an odd tilt. "I told you I would retrieve you if she were to awaken."
The spirit shuffled in, looking every bit as worried. He wasn't entirely sure why he was so concerned about the young mage. Part of him believed that, perhaps, it was because he felt the need to make amends for almost killing her at the Spire. Or maybe it was because of their budding friendship.
"But, Solas..." He pulled at the frayed ends of his sleeves, "She's been asleep for three days. Lost, lonely—lamenting about what was. What could have been."
"I'm sorry, my friend. I do not know what to do. It's up to her, now." He sighed, turning to look at Serana as she patted the unconscious woman's face down with a damp towel. It was midday, the sunlight poured in through the windows. Solas reached up toward the fretting woman, his hand gently brushing her silvery locks away from her face.
Serana turned, face reddening underneath his gaze.
"You must remember to take care of yourself, too." He spoke softly and she turned back to her friend.
"I-I'm sorry… I've just never seen her like this. I'm … worried." Her voice was quiet, like a mouse. Solas nodded in understanding, before standing up and brushing himself off. The bed creaked at his lost weight, his bare feet barely making noise against the stone as he neared the door.
With a nod, he left.
Minutes passed before the dalish mage sat up straight, her head resting on the stone wall as she sat on the floor. The two sat in silence. It appeared as though Serana dozed in and out, eyes drooping. But she refused to leave the room.
Liz
Things started to come back to her slowly, at first. Sluggish, like she was moving through tar. She could faintly hear soft snores at her right. Liz opened her eyes, blinking and trying to focus in. The light that poured in through the windows were a deep orange, telling her that it was evening.
She groaned quietly, sitting up. The bed creaked, jolting the person at her right awake. They'd evidently been on the floor, as the bed squeaked when they sat down beside her. Small, delicate hands were pressed onto her shoulders.
"H-Hey, are you alright?" Serana's voice filtered through her ears. But Liz simply stared forward, remnants of her dreams still fresh in her mind. "E-Erin?"
Her gaze was vacant as she thought about it, wondered how she should approach it. But before she could think too much on it, she heard her brother. Or, the man she'd come to see as a brother.
"You're awake!" Maxwell cried from the doorway, stumbling toward her bed and pulling her into a tight hug. "Maker, Erin. Don't scare me like that."
"….Max?" Liz croaked, her voice hoarse from disuse. She could feel the tears already threatening to fall, her chest hurting. "Max… Maxwell. B-Brother."
"Yes. Yes yes. I'm here. I'm here."
"D-D-Don't leave, p-please."
"No no. Why would I leave?" He pulled away, taking in her small form. He was confused. She knew what she was about to say would draw disappointment from the young man. She wouldn't be surprised if he shunned her, really.
"I killed them, Maxwell. I killed them all." Tears built up in her brown eyes as she made eye contact with her brother. Serana froze from beside her. The memory was still fresh, as if it'd happened yesterday.
She turned her arms, which were now bare, showing him the burn scars that marred the underside of her forearms. They were ugly, spreading all the way up to the crook of her elbow. They still ached and itched from time to time. There was no feeling in those parts of her arm. A reminder of what she's done.
The whole time, she didn't look away. She watched his expression as it morphed from confusion, to horror.
"You saw what happened with… with… Athras." Saying his name hurt, stinging at her insides. "The same thing happened at the tower. Only worse. The whole library… it went up in flames." Her voice faded, barely a whisper. "I was so scared."
"Erin..." He choked, "I remember, I… I told you to run and-"
"No, you don't understand. I killed them, Max. Innocent people. They all died. Because. Of. Me." Liz's voice cracked, angry tears streaming down her face. "I'm a murderer! It's my fault they are gone. It's my fault I'm like thi-this! MY. FAULT."
She heard them say Erin's name again, worry rolling off of them. She could sense that they held no anger, no blame. This angered the mage immensely. She didn't deserve it.
"Erin, sister of the Inquisitor. Mass murderer and liar!" The mage's voice slowly rose as she tried to make her point, make them see. See her for what she truly was, "What will they say when they realize what I've done? What I am? Nothing I can do will ever make up for what I did. Nothing…." Her shoulder slumped. Voice, a whisper, "Nothing."
"You've been … you've been carrying this the whole time? With no one to talk to?" Maxwell sounded aghast, his hands held up as if he wanted to hug the young woman. And she turned to her left. Serana, her closest friend, looked absolutely horrified. Tears were built up in her eyes, lips trembling.
"E-Erin…why didn't y-you say something?" The elf muttered, voice watery.
"D-Don't look at me like that." She snapped, trying to pull back. "What I did was wro-"
"It was an accident!" Maxwell grabbed her shoulders, shaking her vigorously. "What you did was wrong, sure. You can never change that. But you can't keep dwelling in the past and expect to move forward. To heal. How do you expect to make up for it if you cannot accept help and move on? It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to talk to someone. It's okay, Erin."
Liz crumpled into the young man's arms, small body shaking. She could feel Serana rubbing circles on her back as she tried to calm the sobs that refused to cease.
"I'm not like dad. I won't condemn you for what you are and the things you've done. I'll try… I'll try my hardest to understand." He spoke from above her head, "Andraste preserve me, I will help you through this."
"I-If anyone finds out… there will be an outrage." Liz muttered through sniffles, embarrassed that snot was already making its way down her face. She scrunched her nose and wiped it away, only for more to appear. "They will want me to be made tranquil."
She hadn't known what Tranquil meant, all that time back. But she did now. The practice was barbaric, at best. But still understood why they did it. People were afraid. Afraid of the unknown. The uncontrolled.
"I will make sure that doesn't happen." He pulled away. Either he didn't notice the wet stains on his tunic or he didn't care. The young man sighed and put his hand through his hair. "Do you guys mind taking her to get something to eat. Getting out of the room will help. I need to go and talk to Leliana about this."
It was Serana who nodded at the man. "Yes, Inquisitor." She then turned to the woman, "Erin… if you ever need someone to talk to, please… I am here. We are here."
She nodded, wiping at her face. With that, the elven woman simply helped her get dressed in silence. Once they stepped out, Cole was there too. Having been waiting for the two to finish.
Liz looked up at the rogue, spotting a soft sort of smile twitching on his lips. As if to say, 'See?'
The young woman averted her gaze shyly, feeling oddly vulnerable around the two. The hurricane of emotions that swirled in her chest left her feeling raw.
She sighed and followed the two, slowly walking through the main hall and into the courtyard. Blackwall and Cassandra were sparring. Apparently they'd arrived just in time to see the Seeker throw the Warden onto the ground like he was a sack of potatoes. His pained grunt echoed through the air and she could hear a couple of chuckles that followed from their viewers.
Then came the Herald's Rest. Which, once they opened the door, looked a lot better than the last time she went in there. Unfortunately, it still stunk like dung. Well, not literal dung. But Liz wasn't too fond of body odor. The cheap ale she could deal with, but odor?
She scrunched her nose as they walked in to take a seat, the old wooden stool creaking underneath the strain. They were at the bar counter and Cabot walked up, wiping a glass idly. "What can I get for ya?"
"The strong stuff, please." Liz pinched the bridge of her nose, knowing that drinking wouldn't help. But one wouldn't hurt.
"Ooooh, ouch. You ain't lookin' too good, Erin." Jade butted in just as she was being handed a glass of alcohol. Liz took a sip, almost choking when it burned as it went down her throat. "I got just the thing for you! I was gonna eat it, but it looks like you need it more than I do."
The dwarf turned and disappeared into the kitchens, getting a confused glance out of the young mage. When she looked at Serana and Cole, they looked equally as confused. The fidgety elf shrugged. The bard woman began strumming her instrument, singing a slow song over the hum of conversations around them.
Not even a minute passed before Jade returned, plate in tow. She dropped it onto the counter in front of her, clattering loudly. The food on the plate looked achingly familiar.
"Tadaa!" She wriggled her fingers, "Comfort food!"
"W-What is it?" Serana sounded utterly curious.
Liz stared at the ground patty sitting between two buns. She never thought she would ever see…
"Hamburger and Orlesian fries!" She announced, "Brilliant, right? I came up with it myself. It's a hit in Val Royeaux. Made a killing selling these bad boys. Eat up, girly."
She never thought she'd ever see a hamburger ever again. She knew they didn't serve them in this world. It was foreign to them. She knew, because she'd tried to ask for one during her first stay at a tavern. All she'd gotten was odd looks.
"And I even made my secret sauce. See—yeah, you got it." Jade spoke as Liz dipped her fries in the ketchup looking concoction. It tasted like it, too. Only maybe sweeter? "...Oh, well. I didn't know it was that good."
It'd been so long since Liz had eaten a cheeseburger. It was absolutely marvelous. The familiarity of it all brought tears to her eyes. Tears she didn't notice were there until they were dribbling down her cheeks as she stuffed her face.
Memories of the times her and Elise would go out to Burger King simply because they had a bad day surfaced. The way she cackled, her nose wrinkling as she pointed at Liz and teased her. Ketchup dropping on her newly cleaned sweater as she jostled around. Jokes and sassy remarks flying back and forth, like a game of tennis.
She… she missed her so much.
"She's had a rough couple of days." Serana murmured to the dwarf, who nodded as if understanding. She turned on her heel and left the trio to their business. And when the young mage looked up at her retreating form, she could have sworn she saw her sister in her place. Strutting away with a sassy sway to her hips. Only to be replaced by the stocky form of the dwarf.
Liz looked down at her plate, sniffling. A pang of longing shot through her at the thought of her home.
The next week passed by achingly slow. The woman would often find herself hanging out around Serana, Blackwall or Maxwell. Most surprisingly, she seemed to even seek the company of Cole. She was rather grateful that he was there for her when she needed it. The rogue had been expecting the first visit, it seemed. But the second, the third, the fourth and so on? He appeared increasingly confused by her behavior. Or so, that's what she interpreted it as.
She'd gotten the week off to recover. Not only that, but they were to be heading to Crestwood to meet up with the Warden contact that Hawke had. Thankfully, the irritating mage had taken off on his own to get to the meeting place. Maxwell had been adamant about bringing her along, not wanting her out of his sight just yet.
Overprotective, that one.
Liz walked up the stairs from the lower courtyard, sighing as she did so. She'd asked Blackwall to teach her about woodcarving. Saying that she was a little 'rusty'. Erin had been good at carving wood and it'd been one of her passions. Something that seemed to pop up in her dreams from time to time. It was … some of the few things she knew about the young girl.
She figured that, she at least owed the Trevelyan that much. She was stuck in her body, afterall. Getting to know her would be the start of healing, she hoped. No matter how uncomfortable it made her.
The otherworlder took a seat on the railing that overlooked the healer's tents. The chill from the stone seeped through her tight leather pants and froze her butt. But she paid it no mind.
Liz had taken her place in this world. Erin Trevelyan. Maxwell's dearest little sister. Erin might as well have been dead. She was dead and her family didn't even get a chance to mourn. Because they all thought her still alive. And it was Liz's fault.
She'd already admitted to what she'd done back at the Spire.
How was she supposed to eventually tell them? How does one even approach the subject? Would telling them, in turn, get her killed? Would she even risk her life just because of the guilt she felt, gnawing at her insides, every day?
She wouldn't. She couldn't.
Because she was a damned coward.
The thought itself seemed to make the situation that much worse. She knew she could tell them, give them the closure they would likely need. Because not telling them would hurt more in the long run. But she didn't, simply because she was selfish.
Liz knew, right then, that if she wasn't as close as she was to Maxwell … it wouldn't hurt as much as it did. In fact, he would just be another person. Why would she care how he felt?
But it wasn't so.
Her thoughts were put on pause when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. "...Liz?"
The sound of her name, her real name, was like heaven. The mage didn't know how much she yearned to hear it. Craved that one piece of herself, until then. The only reminder she had that she was from Earth. Not here. She slowly turned and stared at the owner of the voice, her vision blurry.
The rogue said nothing, simply taking a seat next to her on the wall. She paid no heed to how close he was. So close that his thigh and arm pressed against hers. She could feel his body shift as his other leg tapped against the stone in a rhythmic pattern.
Cole
He had been drawn to his friend's growing distress. It was quiet, at first. Then it got loud, unrelenting. Like it was slowly consuming her from the inside. An old wound that refused to shut. Heal. So the young man had found himself seated next to her.
Cole knew from before, that simply sitting next to one another seemed to help. Sometimes they would talk, or ask questions. But it was times like these, that simply being there was enough. He'd noticed this during their encounters as of late. Most of the time, she simply sought companionship. Silent confirmation that someone was there.
Another thing he noticed was the growing nervousness when he was around her.
He'd attributed that to his worry for the mage. She'd been experiencing brief bouts of depression and anger as of late. It showed itself in odd ways. Thankfully she wasn't the type to lash out and take it out on other people. Unfortunately, she took it out on herself. Directing her pain inward and hurting herself. Pulling herself down and moping. Sulking.
He paused, his humming stopped, when he felt her head rest upon his shoulder. The rogue froze and turned to her, surprised. Cole's body was as stiff as a board, not knowing what to do when he turned to see Liz asleep. He didn't want to wake her up.
The rogue flushed, trying to suppress how much he wanted to fidget and pull at the hems of his clothing.
Instead, he sat there. Awkwardly.
For what seemed like minutes, he sat there and listened to the birds chirp in the tree behind them. Listened to the sound of Serana fretting about the wounded soldiers and sick civilians in the tents. Anything to keep his mind off of his urge to fidget.
Then, a snore.
Liz was a snorer, it seemed. Cole's lips twitched at the thought. Carefully, he shifted and pulled the woman into his lap. In a careful and fluid motion, he stood up and began walking toward the main hall. He made sure to keep them both hidden, cloaking himself in the Fade as he made his retreat. He knew that she wouldn't like to be teased by Maxwell or Varric.
When he set her in her bed, he couldn't help but stare at her peaceful face. Her expression was usually one of forced indifference or boredom. Brows knitted, hiding her frustration and pain. She always wore a mask.
But at that moment, she was quiet. His hand lingered on her shoulder for longer than it should have. He couldn't tear his gaze off of the bags underneath her eyes. Bags like bruises, that seemed only to grow day by day. It made her look older than she really was.
Liz
They were supposed to leave the next day, but Liz thought she could at least get started on the basics of carving. Blackwall seemed to run it through to her after she told him she needed a refresher.
He'd been explaining the different tools used for carving. None of which she recognized. She knew about the knife, but didn't know about all of the little tools used in creating a piece of art.
Liz's finger slipped and she sliced a fine line across her fingertip. "Ouch."
"No, you're holding it wrong. You're supposed to anchor—Maker's balls, child. Now you've gone and cut yourself." He grumbled, pulling out a cloth from his pocket when he saw the blood coming out faster than expected. The otherworlder let out a hiss and went to put it into her mouth, only to have her wrist grabbed as the Warden wrapped a small cloth around the top. Stopping the bleeding.
"I may be a little bit rusty." Liz deadpanned, feeling guilty about lying to Blackwall.
"It's alright." He finished off the knot and turned back to the workstation, "We all make mistakes every now and then. Now put some dirt on it and try again."
"Actually, I would advise against that. Dirt can carry a lot of contaminants and would likely cause infection."
The Grey Warden simply sighed at her antics. Liz knew what he meant, but decided to make the smart assy comment anyway.
The rest of their time was spent in silence, with only the sound of shuffling and the scraping of wood. She'd started small, working on a block of wood the size of her palm. Though she'd had a mishap, she noticed that Erin's muscle memory made the intricate movements rather well. She'd, of course, made some small markings on the piece to indicate where the guidelines were for what she wanted. She'd seen Blackwall do the same, though his blocky figure was now actually looking like something. He was working on the top, which kind of looked like the head of a bird.
"We are going to head out soon, Erin." Maxwell called from the entrance of the barn, "What're you making?"
She shrugged and looked up when Blackwall shifted in her direction at her left. He was handing her the cases for the carving tools, which was a long piece of leather with pouches. She'd seen those, before. They would roll up and tie shut, to conserve space.
"Here, the ones you're using are my old set." He dropped the leather into her hand, "You can have 'em."
"What? But-" Liz was taken aback, not sure how to respond to the gift. "Aren't these tools expensive? Are you sure you want to just give them away?"
"I'm not just giving them away." The older man snorted, as if the thought was amusing. "This way I'll know they will be put to good use. Take em with you. Carving something keeps the mind from going astray."
Liz stared at him and nodded in understanding, "Thank you."
After that, the young woman vowed to do something in return for his generosity.
She cleaned up, wiping her shavings off the table and onto the floor. The other items were stashed safely in her bag, which was sitting on the other side of the barn. Liz tied it shut and flipped it over her shoulder, slowly walking into the stables to find Rin.
The blue beast was sitting in the stall, not having left for much more than to amble around the pasture sadly. It seemed Liz wasn't the only one taking the loss of Athras hard. She knew that she and the elder had quite a connection.
"Rin…?" She called, setting her bag down next to the stall as she leaned forward. The hart turned and showed Liz her rump, refusing to look at her. "I'm sorry. Do you… do you want me to leave you here for this trip? I am sure Maxwell would be willing to lend me a horse."
Rin shorted and pawed at the far end of the stall, before turning to look at the young mage.
"You knew him longer than me. I … can't imagine how hard this must be for you." Liz rested her chin on her arms, looking up at the animal. She turned and came face to face with the woman. She half expected the beast to snort and send snot and spit into her face. But instead, her soft muzzle came down and rested on Liz's forehead gently.
Like many other times, this time was no different. Feeling the intent of certain animals and people, that is. It was like it drifted into her head, like a cool breeze. Sorrow and pain. But most of all, the willingness to help the young woman.
"Are… are you sure?" She asked, lifting her head up and staring at the hart. Her response was to lick the mage across the face. Liz suppressed the urge to squeal as the whole left side of her face was covered in slobber.
Rin let out a nicker, which sounded oddly like a laugh.
"Haha, funny." The otherworlder wiped at her face furiously.
The animal put up no fight as she saddled her up. She, like Liz, seemed despondent. Not likely to return to their normal selves until the grieving period was over. As they sat near the gates, waiting for everyone to arrive atop their respective mounts. Liz heard the disapproving scoff from her left, by the barn.
She turned, seeing the Horsemaster. Dennet, she remembered his name was.
"Girl, that animal's barely been eating. How do you expect it to survive the trek to Crestwood?" He asked, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the old wooden wall.
"I asked her, first. She seemed alright with it." Was her simple answer, getting a raised brow out of the elderly man. As if to respond, Rin pawed at the ground and threw her head up and down. Almost as if nodding.
The young woman smirked down at the hart, hearing the Horsemaster mumble something about 'not being his horse anyway'. She sighed.
With that, the group left. Cassandra and Maxwell led the group, their horses ambled side by side. The young man had a map out, carefully balancing himself atop the saddle as he squinted down at the parchment. Varric and Cole were conversing quietly as they followed. Solas and Liz were the only ones not speaking, simply sitting there and watching the scenery as it passed them by.
Soon enough, even the others grew silent. The only sound being hooves crunching through the crisp layer atop the snow. It was partially cloudy, the sun occasionally hiding behind a stray cloud. But mostly it beat down on their backs, helping keep them warm as they continued on their journey near the base of the mountain. Liz couldn't wait until they hit an actual road, not really liking how bumpy and difficult the terrain was. Especially after hearing Rin hadn't been eating. She didn't want to overwork the hart, even though they didn't really get along much.
The trip to Crestwood was to take another week, it seemed. A week of nonstop travel around Lake Calenhad, using the Imperial Highway. Once they reached the base of the mountain and later being able to see the lake as it sparkled in the distance. The weather was warm enough to warrant green foliage. Scenery changed as they continued, slowly becoming greener and more lush as they went on. It was a nice change as opposed to the dull monochromatic theme that came with the snowy Frostbacks.
Most nights, the mage was silent. Either carving on her own to keep her mind busy, or feeding and caring for the animals. But that night, as they neared the top of the lake, they set up camp and she took a seat not far from the fire. It'd been awhile since she's done the exercises Athras had told her to do. To learn how to control her magic.
So she sat, feeling the familiar pull of magic within her. Welling up in her stomach and chest, only to expand and buzz beneath her skin. Lightning erupted from her fingertips and she let it dance between her hands. She didn't see it as controlling it, simply sending it suggestions. Trusting it to listen. So it melded to her will. She allowed it to be what it was. She was even able to form a ball of energy before she was interrupted.
"You have an affinity for storm magic, I see." The voice spoke, breaking her concentration. The ball of energy dissipated into a shower of sparks. Liz turned and looked up, seeing the bald apostate. He shook his head and slowly took a seat on a log next to her. She was far enough from the fire to keep her nerves under control. She'd learned how to keep herself warm using her magic, thanks to Athras. Which helped immensely, since she avoided fires like they were the plague.
Liz sighed, "Yes."
"It is not an easy element to control. Most find fire to be the easiest. It is simple to conjure with a high influx of emotions, letting it burn out of control if gone unchecked." He explained, getting a slight wince out of the young mage. "Even so, you seem more apt to conjure electricity. Which can be just as, if not more, volatile than fire."
"I prefer it. It listens to me more than the other elements. Coming to my aid with a flick of the wrist." As if to make a point, she spread her fingers and let the energy dance between them harmlessly. "Fire… fire has only ever taken from me. Stolen all that I love and care about. I don't much like fire."
She didn't know why she was being so much more open as of late. On one hand it was disconcerting. On the other, it kind of felt good to just let loose and speak her mind. She was torn. Solas examined her. She could feel his eyes trying to bore holes in her head, as if trying to find something. Why was he here, anyway?
"Why do you think that is?" Solas inquired, getting a raised brow out of the woman.
"Well, I'd like to imagine it's likely because I've trained diligently in my chosen element. It would be hard, otherwise." She snorted, letting him know she was being snarky and not just being a bitch. The elf's lips twitched, as if he'd been about to smirk. Instead, he straightened and looked at the group. Most of whom, were busy chatting around the fire. Her spirit friend was nowhere to be seen.
"Your grasp on this world is remarkable."
She gave him an odd look, feeling a bit offended.
"Young as I may be, it doesn't mean I am less apt to understanding the complexities this world has to offer." She bristled a bit as she spoke. Solas' head snapped in her direction, a slight widening of his eyes. It was only for a brief second, before it disappeared and he nodded.
"Right, my apologies." He murmured softly. It was then that Liz noticed that he'd been acting odd around her ever since Athras had passed away. Ever since she was forced to kill her friend. He's been hovering, if not volunteering to keep watch over her as she slept. He was usually within her line of sight.
What was the man up to?
Liz stared at the apostate suspiciously as he stood up and brushed his rump off, sending wood shavings onto the ground.
"Another time, my friend." He bowed his head slightly and turned, walking off toward the group.
She sat in confused silence, before she was approached yet again.
"He worries, wondering – wanting to know more about you. It's hard. Sometimes he thinks about how you sounded when your magic took control. When you were almost lost to them." Liz jumped at the soothing sound of Cole's voice, not having heard his approach.
"...What?" She asked, trying to still her beating heart. 'It's just Cole, calm down.'
"He put up a barrier before the world turned to ash, swallowed by hues of red and orange. Your mind broke, that day." Cole walked into view, having been somewhere behind her. Liz patted the log where Solas had once sat. He tilted his head down, the shadow of his hat covering most of his face. "But you're back. You always come back. Even when it hurts so much you want to stay. Why?"
"Because… Because Elise would be disappointed in me if I just gave up." The mage shook her head, watching as the rogue crouched so that he was eye level with her instead. His arms rested on his knees as he picked at the ends of his sleeves. "What about you? You tried to kill me, back at the Spire. Yet here you are, trying to be my friend. Do you pity me?" 'Do you think, that maybe if you help me… you can atone for your sins? Is that all I am to you?' Was what she wanted to say, but she kept her mouth sealed.
"No, that's not it." His blue eyes widened from underneath his mass of hair. "You're like me-"
Liz snorted, "Hardly."
"Yes." He sounded firm as he spoke, eyes hardening. "You want to help, but you're afraid. You want to change. I can hear it, in here."
Cole poked her chest and she flinched at the sudden contact. 'But I can't.'
"You can."
She was afraid. So so afraid that it hurt. The thought that she might end up like her mentor. Her Hahren. Possessed and dead, having to be killed by those she loved—it was an unbearable thought.
"He was proud of you." Cole said and Liz could feel her heart clench. As if sensing it, the spirit spoke swiftly, stuttering on. "'Thank you… Da'len.' He didn't mean for it to happen. It was spreading inside of him, eating away at him. Harder. Harder. Can't breathe. Too weak."
The young woman stared at her hands, which clenched her fur pelt like it was a lifeline. She fought against the tears, but it seemed for naught.
"I'm sorry. I can't keep doing this to you." She wiped at her eyes.
"You're letting us help." The rogue let a ghost of a smile pass on his features, before it disappeared. His gaze drifted from her and back to the group, who were sharing stories around the fire. She could hear their laughter in the background. Yes, she was letting them help. Wasn't she?
In an attempt to change the subject, the mage dug around on her belt and unclipped her dagger. His dagger. Cole stiffened and looked back at her, staring down at the familiar brass dagger he'd used back at the Spire.
"I kept it." She fiddled with it, turning it in her hands and watching how the light from the fire glinted off of it. "I usually keep tokens of incidents in my life where I've almost died. These pelts I'm wearing were of wolves who almost killed me when I was out hunting. This belt is from a man that tried to steal my things. This dagger… almost killed me."
The otherworlder held it out to him, hilt first. He stared at it like it was going to bite him. His eyes fluttered up to hers, then back down at it. His fingertips grazed the hilt and he flinched, letting it rest in his palm. Almost hesitantly.
Liz knew it probably brought back bad memories. But she hoped that he could see-
"The arrow was lodged in her shoulder, but you dug it out and saved her. Mending. Mild ministrations—mother of three. She would have died otherwise." He turned it around and seemed to concentrate, "I can hear them. The people you helped, healed. The good washes out the bad. I almost can't hear..."
"I hoped so."
"But you need it?"
"I bought a new one. Keep it. It has sentimental value, does it not? I saw the way you looked at it back-" Her throat closed up and she looked way when the pained look creeped up onto his features. "Back then."
"It was Cole's. The Real Cole's. His mother's dagger. She kept it buried, hidden. Just in case." He explained, holding the thing close to his chest.
"You didn't have to tell me."
"You wanted to know." The lanky rogue stated simply, "I thought I was his ghost, back then. I didn't know what I was. It was hard. But I saw. I reached out to the Real Cole and… became him. I'm not real."
So then, what was she? If he wasn't real because he took the place of the real Cole? She wasn't Erin, by any means. Far from it, in fact.
The rogue seemed to notice the impending spiral, "N-No, I d-didn't. I didn't mean—I just. I made another knot, I'm sorry!"
"It's fine. I understand how you feel. If you need to talk about it, I'm here." Liz saw how he seemed to fidget uncomfortably at the suggestion, "You don't have to. But it's only fair, since you've helped me. You can't just not allow me to return the favor."
"But..."
"No. Friendship doesn't work that way, Cole. It's a two way street." She crinkled her nose, "You help me? I get to help you."
He seemed almost unsure, confused at the prospect someone even wanted to go through the trouble. Liz could understand that sentiment. It'd been a hard concept for her to grasp, as well.
"Why?" An honest question from the rogue.
"Friends care for one another. Friends...should be there." Liz turned away from him and looked up at the dark night sky. The trees framed her view of the twinkling sight, "Always."
They sat in silence for a bit, the young man having taken a seat next to her. He watched the skies and listened to the rustle of the trees as the wind blew through their hair. It was serene, quiet. When Liz looked back at the rogue, he was calmer. Posture looser. Though she couldn't see his eyes underneath all of that hair.
Cole turned toward the small mage and offered a soft smile, "Thank you."
A smile which, without even realizing, she returned. "I don't intend to go anywhere."