"The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world's existence. All these half-tones of the soul's consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are."
~ Fernando Pessoa
"What's wrong?" she reached out for him, concern in her voice. "Are you ill?" she asked, slipping into her well-worn healer role, examining his eyes, her fingers seeking for swollen nodes along his neck. "Can you even be ill?" she puzzled.
"What was isn't anymore. Perhaps I can."
"What do I do?" she asked anxiously, unsure as to whether she should stay by his side or run downstairs for something to help him. He clutched his head, rocking slowly. "Tell me how to help," she pleaded.
It rose within him, an unpleasant thorniness, a hissing din, subdued only by a quavering voice that repeated "No," over and over, until he saw Ava had covered her mouth with her hand in what he could only interpret as worry.
His had been the voice crying out "No."
"I need you to find someone."
She nodded, listening carefully as he gave her instructions.
"Messere Tethras?" a firm, but soft voice interrupted him. He looked up from his parchment to face a woman in a hooded cloak, hands demurely clasped before her, bright eyes staring at him inquisitively.
"That depends… Who are you?" he teased, laying down his quill.
"A friend requests your help," she stated, aware of the attention they were beginning to attract.
"Let me guess: the 'friend' is waiting for me outside, somewhere dark and secluded and wants to have a private little chat about old times?"
"He said you would know how to help best."
Varric chuckled.
"It's Cole," she whispered.
She watched the dwarf's expression harden into one of peculiar urgency as he tossed a few coins over the table, pat down his pockets, and nodded a brisk farewell towards the tavern keeper.
"Why didn't you just say so?" he scolded her.
"Maker, what is wrong with him?" Varric asked her. "Kid!" he called out to Cole, as he lay curled on the ground, clutching his abdomen.
"It hurts, Varric. I don't know what to do with it."
"What hurts?" he asked, scrutinizing him.
Ava stood back, observing helplessly.
"Everything. It grows too strong, too fierce. It wants to burst out and I don't want it to."
"What does?" Varric prodded, kneeling beside him.
"I only know what to do when I am facing it, not when it is here," he pointed to himself. "I am scared."
"You're going to have to do better than that," he urged him. "Do we need to get Solas?"
"No…No…he is too much like I was before to understand how I am now. But… You know, Varric. Anytime the cart pulls away from the gate, she stares over her shoulder back until she can't see clearly anymore, it all stretches out as far as she may go, no matter the distance, just waiting…Even the slightest, smallest scraps are a feast…In between, it grates and drags without her."
Varric squinted, the fragmented imagery coming together into something he recognized all too damn well.
"Now why would you bring up all that stuff about me and Bianca?…" he asked a bit sullenly.
He shifted his attention to the woman hovering over them. "And who are you?" he asked. "How do you know Cole?"
"Cole is my friend," she said cautiously.
She knelt beside them, placing a hand over his forehead.
This is futile. What should a spirit's baseline temperature be, anyway? she exhaled, disconcerted.
Cole groaned at her touch. Varric observed her pensively before pressing his lips together into a taut line.
"So, are you by any chance the mage the templars brought in last night?"
She nodded, a bit reluctantly.
"Can you give us a moment?" he requested.
She politely nodded again and hurried down the steps, leaving them alone.
He smirked knowingly, his suspicions stoked.
"Talk to me, Kid." He sat down heavily next to him, patting him on the arm. "What's this all about? Does it have anything to do with this amulet business? Or maybe…her?" he asked, indicating the stairwell with a tilt of his head.
"Yes," Cole replied.
Varric rubbed his face tiredly.
This might take a while, he told himself.
"It's too much- I can't hold it all. Mine, hers…everyone else's."
He listened.
"So much pain, so much sadness."
"But I thought you handled that all the time."
"If it's mine, it doesn't make room for theirs," Cole explained.
"Listen: I'm a 'Point! Shoot!' kind of guy and right now you are all over the place. You're not doing so great. I think we need Solas—as much as I hate to admit it."
"It hurts," Cole insisted, hugging himself tighter. "Over everything— all of them."
"All of whom?" Varric shook his head, confused.
Ava…Rhys…Cole, he thought, unable to utter the names.
"I can't make it better anymore, not for them, not for me. No matter what I did, no matter what I do…I keep failing," Cole told him, distressed.
"What you did? Failing? If I didn't know any better…" Varric muttered, dismayed.
Regrets, Varric realized. The Kid's wallowing in it.
He looked him over sympathetically.
"Get up," he tapped Cole on his arm. "If you are really going to do this being human thing, we have to set a few ground rules for your well-being… and my sanity."
He'd gotten Cole to sit up and was giving him a moment before forcing him back on his feet.
As they approached the landing, he lent him his shoulder to grip for support.
"Are you sure he'll be alright?" Ava asked with trepidation, watching Varric reach the bottom step.
" Let me tell you something: you may think you know how awful varghest meat tastes just from smelling it while it roasts… But you don't know how truly shitty it tastes until you actually try it. And the Kid here has taken the equivalent of a mouthful."
Ava did her best to hide her confusion.
"Come on. We're going to check in with Solas."
"I can come and help," she offered, reaching for her cloak.
"It's alright," he assured her.
"Can I at least give him something to ease his discomfort?" she insisted.
"Can you conjure two tankards of ale and sing a few depressing songs?" Varric mumbled contrarily, heading for the door.
Ava tilted her head.
"Pardon?"
"Nah," Varric waved at her dismissively, as they slipped silently into the night.