Liminality

Chapter 7: To Train

Jolina realized that she had no real basis for comparison for intensity, because over the next few weeks every new week proved to be most intense of her life.

Apparently Commander Cullen had been very skeptical of her participation in the exercises with the recruits, and had only allowed it on the condition that a Templar be present. She had showed up in her light leather, shivering from the cold, and had nervously ignored the armored man in the corner as they began to warm up. She was given a sword and shield, and they were set to block and parry in pairs. It was an effective exercise; simple in concept due to the repetitive motion, but difficult in execution because her opponent was a heavily muscled 200-pound former farmer. His strikes jarred her shield hard enough that her entire frame shook from the impact, and she had to constantly widen her stance so that she didn't fall over.

But overall the training was good.

The first week was awful- her entire body was in a constant state of muscle ache, and it took an entire week of disgruntled groans and hushed complaints for an exasperated Solas to force her to take some infusion of elfroot. Which helped greatly. Jo was so sincere in her thanks, in fact, that Solas had shown her how to create the concoction, just so she would stop her awkward, bumbling attempts at thankfulness.

The first week of her training in other weapons was also rather rocky. Varric had decided that attempts with a bow could wait until the muscles in her arms were no longer in pain, and took control of her training with daggers. Luckily for Jo, techniques with a dagger had translated the best from the Fade due to the heavy reliance on stance and footwork. However, it also required an agility that was beyond her, so Varric had started a running regime as well as work with what looked like a rudimentary pommel horse. At first she could only run for ten minutes before she began to slow and her breath began to stagger. By the end of the week she was at least breathing correctly, and she lasted fifteen minutes without stopping.

The easiest part of this week had been her work with Solas. It took a slightly difficult drawn-out conversation for him to understand her process, and then he began to utilize healing as a way for Jo to recognize and become familiar with her magic. By the end of the week, Jo was no longer feeling overwhelmed when she felt a rush of energy pooling in her forearms. It was also pleasant to work in the infirmary, the arrogant surgeon notwithstanding. The little girl, whom Jo learned was named Juliana, had taken to following her around, which Jo thought was incredibly endearing.

The second week was better than the first. The pain was easier to manage, which allowed her to utilize more strength. The trainers for the recruits also introduced new exercises that incorporated side-stepping and ducking alongside parrying and simple blocking. By the end of everyday Jo's thighs burned from maintaining a crouching position for so long, and Jo had taken to massaging her legs at the end of every day. Cole watched this new ritual curiously, and Jo wondered if he had ever suffered from sore muscles. What had it been like for him to become corporal? Was it a painful process?

In the second week Varric introduced Jo to the pommel horse looking thing. At first he just required that she hang there, suspended up by her arms, but he eventually asked her to swing her legs back and forth in every direction. The upper arm strength required to maintain this level of control was surprising (Jo saw one of Leliana's scouts using it, and it looked so easy). Fortunately for her, Varric managed not to laugh too loudly the few times she fumbled as her strength gave out. She was successfully running twenty minutes straight, however, so Jo rationalized this week a success.

Now that Jo could recognize her magic, Solas thought it important to understand the theories behind magical application in order to enforce some level of control and technique. He gave her several texts, which she had taken to reading during lunch. In theory the information was simple; barriers and glyphs were put in place to prevent damage, healing auras were used to treat a generalizable area, and more specific healing spells could heal damage, and rejuvenate or regenerate energy. Actually putting this theory into practice was much more difficult, oddly because healing was so easy for her to accomplish intuitively. Solas had asked Jo to perform a specific healing spell on a man in the infirmary, but the moment she touched him, her magic poured unbidden and removed the ailment.

Solas had pulled her aside afterwards and attempted to get Jo to understand the importance of casting these spells. It could be used to augment and conserve her abilities, and was a more efficient use of mana. If she were to be in a battle that necessitated healing multiple party members, she needed to operate more conservatively with her mana in order to ensure everyone was healed. Jo had expressed that she understood his point (and she really did), but she had no idea how to go about ensuring this level of control.

By the third week, Jo spent a good twenty minutes at the start and end of every day stretching, which helped a great deal. She could have kicked herself for not thinking of stretching beforehand, but in her defense, she had not been a very athletic child. She also felt stronger. It was easier to strike and block, and she was finally getting to the point where the fundamentals she had learned in the Fade were assisting her in her efforts to gain skill. She was assigned a different partner to spar with, and had actually managed to gain some headway with the young man because her footwork was faster, which guided her body effectively through the different offensive and defensive techniques they were using.

It was at the end of this week that Jo made it a point to meet Commander Cullen in person to thank him for his assistance, reluctant thought it might be. She had come up to his tent and caught him as he was just getting up. He looked extremely discomforted by her presence, as well as that of Cole's, who had trailed through the courtyard behind her.

"Commander Cullen? Might I have a word?"

He looked between the two of them with a stern frown and nodded.

"I would just like to thank you for allowing me to train with your troops. I understand that this is a privilege, and you have plenty of justification to be wary. I grew up without having magic, so this… transition has been difficult. I promise I am working on it. Still, I am extremely thankful you didn't tell the recruits about the nature of your concerns. I understand they have a prejudice against mages."

He looked surprised, and then considering. "It was as much for their benefit as it was for yours."

"I understand. But I am still thankful."

He nodded absentmindedly, and then looked away, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. "I heard you have been learning healing magic?"

Jo smiled. "Yes. And as far as I know, I am incapable of any other kind."

Cullen's eyes shot back to hers in surprise. "Really? I know mages specialize, but I thought that was because they chose a route. Not that they were incapable."

Jo shrugged. "I would have no idea. You probably have had more interaction with magic than I have."

Cullen frowned. "Where are you from?"

Jo had a wry smile. "Not Thedas. Another world, which apparently is connected at the Fade."

"And in this world…"

"No magic."

Jo had no idea how to decipher the look on his face. "I see," Cullen stated in a halting manner, and Jo realized that it might be better to cut this conversation and run. Give him time to think? Although Lord only knows how he thought of her at this point. Suicidal, prone to hysteria, and mad off her rocks?

"Well, thank you for taking the time to talk to me. Have a good day." She had spun, grabbed Cole's arm, and frog-marched the two of them away awkwardly.

That afternoon Jo was mildly surprised to see Cullen during a sparring event put on for the recruits to evaluate what information was sticking, and what exercise techniques needed to be repeated. Although maybe she shouldn't be? She remembered Cullen interacting pretty heavily with the recruits in the game at Haven, but thought that since their move to Skyhold, Cullen had taken a more administrative role out of necessity. There were a lot of men to coordinate.

When she had been called up to the sparring ring, she had been thankful for the time she spent training with her first beast of a partner. Her opponent had a similar build, and used his sword and shield like a tank. She was at least a foot shorter, her frame slender, and she knew she would have to use a strong stance when defending, all of the momentum of turning of body when striking, and coordinated footwork to dodge when appropriate in order to get anywhere with the man. That was something she was still struggling with, actually; determining when it was more appropriate to dodge or shield. They both used energy.

Her practice had paid off, as the stamina she was gaining through her runs carried her through a majority of his attacks. The spar came to a head when blocking his strike had taken enough energy that he was able to cuff her head with the edge of his shield before she could move. Her vision swam for a second and she clenched her teeth through the pain, before using that as an opportunity to take advantage of the fact that he had let his guard down. Feeling blood drip down her forehead, she blinked in time counting… and then quickly propelled herself forward, using her shield to turn him so she was facing his back, and then it was a side kick to the spine, and her sword at his neck as he tumbled forward onto his hands and knees.

There had been applause, and she looked up to see Cullen with a raised brow as he stood nearby, a hand casually resting on the hilt of his blade. Jo raised a brow in return. Glancing to the side she saw Cassandra frown in disapproval. Jo sighed. What was she supposed to do about any of this?

Varric had heard about her victory when she met him in the armory later that day.

"I heard about your success, Peaches! We should celebrate. I'm thinking ale?"

Jo immediately became suspicious. "What kind of ale?" She had made the mistake of accepting Dwarven Ale sometime last week, and Jo swore the alcohol would have been fit to strip wood tarnish.

Varric grinned. "Whatever you will drink. But this deserves alcohol. Did you see the look on Cassandra's face?"

"Yes." Jo felt her face fall. Did the woman really dislike her that much? It's not as if she could control whether or not she had magic.

"She was obviously conflicted. I mean, here you are, an untrained mage with strange abilities and questionable origins, but at the ring? You were a woman who persevered through the pain, who kept a cool head, who defeated a much stronger opponent. Something she admires. She obviously can't make sense of the two." Varric seemed delighted at this inner turmoil apparently experienced by the resident Seeker.

Jo was surprised. She hadn't been able to feel that conflict- perhaps because she had been so far away? Although she was getting better at controlling the influx of emotions to some extent, or at least ignoring it and trying not to let it influence her own. Maybe she was becoming too reliant on this strange ability of hers?

"Sure. Let's celebrate," she acquiesced with a resigned smile, which Varric had returned with an approving nod.

They got to the archery range, and Jo got out her bow and quiver full of arrows. He had finally decided to let her attempt to use a bow, her muscles no longer constantly burning. And with the strength she had been building in her arms and shoulders, this practice was far more productive than the last.

Now that she could keep the arrow even as it was notched and released, aim became the name of the game. She spent a couple of hours experimenting with the relationship between distance and the strength of her pull, as well as the relationship between where she positioned the bow, and where the arrow landed. It was… fun. Notching the arrow back to graze her jaw, taking a deep breath- the tension familiar, the release powerful. It felt an awful lot like magic, actually.

Jo knew intuitively that in order for her to make any strides, she would need a great deal of practice. She would have little time in the battlefield to aim, so that and power needed to be something she could adjust without conscious thought.

Varric offered a few pointers, but by and large left her to experiment by herself. After Varric decided she had done enough for today, she jogged a few laps around the keep, happy at how easy it was. She left Varric then to meet Solas in the rotunda, promising to meet the dwarf later.

Walking in Jo could see the elf bent over the table positioned in the middle of the room, reading a tome. His eyes snapped up to hers when he heard her approach, and straightened. "Ah, Jolina. Just in time."

He continued to speak as he stood. "It occurred to me that there are certain exercises we can focus on that are aimed at improving control and mana replenishment. Hopefully these skills will translate as you attempt healing spells."

Jo nodded tiredly. She was rather exhausted after a day full of physical activity, and the feeling of drying sweat between her shoulder blades was not pleasant. Hopefully all of these practices could be accomplished sitting down?

"Have you meditated before?"

Oh, thank God... She nodded. But wait, what if he was talking about a different kind of meditation than the one she attempted on Earth?

"Excellent. Then you know that the first step is to establish a sense of mindfulness by clearing your mind. This enforces discipline and focus, and you will need both if you intend to gain any control over your mana."

Again, Jo nodded. That sounded familiar. Alright. She could do this.

"Cole?" Solas called out, and Jo watched with bemusement as the blonde rogue got up from the couch and walked towards them. She hadn't noticed he was there. "I called Cole in here to ensure that you are clearing your mind. He will inform me if you are not."

Tartar sauce. Jo actually had a rather busy mental space, and found it hard to calm that space without music. But she could try, yes? Who knows- maybe her time spent in the Fade might have changed something? But she felt too much apprehension to be hopeful.

Solas led them outside into the courtyard, and found a shaded grassy spot that was devoid of people. They sat facing each other. "For now, just breath."

Jo attempted to do just that, but it was much harder to synchronize her breathing when she wasn't exercising. She felt like she was breathing in either too little, or too much air. Focusing on it created this uncomfortable awareness, and it was almost like she forgot how to do it correctly if she had to think too much about it.

After a couple of minutes, which were rather fascinating for Jo because she could see the elf's muscles relax (was he always so tense?), Solas stated, "Now attempt to empty your mind. You are nothing more than a series of breaths in a space. Your limbs and torso are weightless. You are like air. You do not need to think about existing. You just need to inhabit the space."

Jo tried, she really did. But her brain decided that now would be a good time to consider philosophical existentialism.

"Cole?" Solas stated, and Jo sat with growing horror as Cole repeated, verbatim, all of the things that were going through her mind.

"Isn't there a danger to forgetting about my existence? As far as I know, my reality is the only true reality because I can't be separated from my perspective. Which allows the possibility that nothing really exists outside of myself, or that this is all a figment of my imagination. Although could I really consider myself so adept as to have created all of this? Probably not. In any case, if I don't acknowledge or deny my existence, will I continue to exist? For that matter, is existing merely inhabiting a space? Or is it something more? Does my consciousness or my physical presence demand an existence? And does a consciousness need to have a will and a purpose, or are imprints of a memory or emotion enough to warrant that state? After all, the ghosts in the Fade were like echoes, without a body or purpose or self-awareness, yet they existed. Or perhaps, only to me? In which case, existence only takes place through the acknowledgment of said existence by others? In which case, if there no one around, do you really exist? But how do you consider this debate with any kind of intellectual backing because nothing in the world is truly objective-"

"Jolina," Solas scolded.

"Oh my, he looks rather unhappy. I am sorry. I have always had a hard time clearing my mind. I am so busy thinking of things that need to be thought about, that my mind seems to enjoy considering things I don't need to think about when it has the time. Does that mean I need to set aside time both to think about things I need to and things I don't need to before my mind will settle? How lovely it would be to live longer than eighty years. I'm not sure I have the time necessary to accomplish that."

The elf crossed his arms and seemed to purse his lips in an irritated fashion. "Jolina! The purpose of this exercise is to stop thinking. Not to think more."

"And now he looks upset. Goodness. He was the one who decided to invade the privacy of my thoughts using Cole. Using him. I hate to be used. I wonder if Cole hates it too? Tragic Cole left to die alone in the dark pit of the white tower. Fuck people. But I do so admire his perseverance. It is hard to be compassionate when you are being judged. Just because they don't understand the logic of his actions, they have to criticize and blame. And they don't understand him, so there is fear and hatred. I feel it when he walks with me around the courtyard and in the reception hall. It is not fair. Although I know life isn't fair. I know people can be like this to anyone they decide to otherize. They all used to think I was a freak, too. Although sometimes they used the word weird. Or intense. But always attached to a too, so it's basically the same thing. People suck, but I can't help but love them. I must be doomed to an unhappy existence."

Solas stood with a snarl, looking frustrated and upset, his hands curled into fists and held tightly by his side.

"He really does look like Fen'Harel when he does that. It's the snarl, I think. I don't mean to frustrate him, really… I just don't feel comfortable saying this all out loud, and so I have to contend with letting it out in my head, and… good Lord he just said that out loud. Cole, my lovely, new friend Cole, please stop talking? I don't want him to hurt me. Please stop, please, please, please… Or you for that matter. Please, please, please, please, please, please, I hope no one else heard that-"

"Cole! Stop it," Solas bit out, and Jo could feel a twinge of Cole's hurt. If Jo thought Solas had looked upset before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now. His eyes were frigid and narrowed as they locked with hers, and Jo couldn't stop herself from squealing as she propelled herself to her feet and darted a few steps to hide behind Cole. She could feel another wave of irritation, frustration, confusion, anger, and fear roll off the elf, and Jo gripped the back of Cole's shirt overwhelmed. Oh, God. Oh, Lordy. What was he going to do to her now? Would he kill her? Would she die? She should have tried harder. She should have- Solas was hurt. Underneath all of his other emotions she felt the pain. Why? Remembered grievances? Her lack of faith?

"Does she ever stop thinking?" Solas asked Cole, and he seemed to be taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

Cole turned to look at her, and then back at Solas. "No. Even when she's sleeping."

"Is it always so…." Solas couldn't seem to find the right word.

"Yes."

Solas let out a big sigh. "Jolina." It was said in a hard, commanding voice. Jo peeked out from behind Cole warily.

"Yes?"

"Come here." His tone broke no room for argument.

Jo could feel that this was one of those big decisions that could drastically alter the course of her life. That how she chose to handle this question could have a big impact on her relationships with the people in this space. Still feeling apprehensive, but concerned about his pain, Jo stepped out from behind Cole and shuffled in front of the elf.

"How long have you known?"

Jo knew what he was asking. "Since I first saw you in the Fade?" Technically true. She had no idea he really existed before that very moment.

"And you know what I intend to do?"

Jo remembered. And frowned. She had been rather upset after playing Trespasser. That an individual as old and bright as Solas truly believed that remaking the world, again, would go as intended… That was the definition of insane, yes? To attempt the same thing again and again, while expecting a different result? "Eliminate the Veil. But I don't believe it will work out like you want it to."

Solas' eyes flashed, and his mouth turned down in irritation, but otherwise he ignored her comment. "Do you intend to tell anyone?"

Jo felt her lips purse. "No. I'm like Cole. I intend to keep everyone's secrets."

Solas' frown deepened, and he turned to Cole. "She knows?"

Cole nodded.

Solas sighed. "Well, apparently we are going to have to attempt a different approach. Although this might explain why you have been experiencing difficulties prior. I need some time. We will speak tomorrow?"

"Alright." Jo murmured. She watched Solas stride away, and turned towards Cole.

She bit her lip anxiously. "I'm so sorry Cole. I made him upset, but that made you upset too."

Cole looked solemn. "It's okay, Jo. You didn't mean to."

"Unintended consequences still hurt, though." Jo felt a mishmash of remorse, apprehension, confusion and fear. She looked down at the ground, chuffed at the dirt with her boot in frustration, before looking back at Cole.

He looked so sad. Oh. Jo couldn't stop herself from trotting over to him and grabbing his hand. She had no idea what to say, or how to apologize for what she was thinking. She just… hoped he could feel her sentiment.

"It's okay, Jo," Cole repeated. Jo gave him a small smile, clutching the bit of warmth and skin.

Dinner was an interesting affair. What was originally planned as a night of revelry and mild debauchery quickly turned into an embarrassing mess. Jo discovered that she was just starting her monthlies, but she was apprehensive about how to go about the… intricacies without causing Cole to worry. Although would he worry?

She asked Cole to stay with Varric while she went to visit the surgeon, who reluctantly gave her some rags, but… surely she was making something of nothing? She resolved to go back to the tavern, drink an ale, and forget about the whole thing. Which is exactly how it went.

Before Cole decided to ask why she was troubled in typical Cole fashion.

"Jo? There's a new knot. Sticky, wet, red, dripping in clumps, embarrassment in bloody rags… Why is bleeding embarrassing?"

Jo felt her face redden as everyone at their table quieted.

"Ah, Kid?" Varric started to say.

Cole looked genuinely confused. "But doesn't everyone bleed?"

Varric had a light blush of his own as he tried to explain, "Yeah, but it's different for women…"

"Why?"

Blackwall was the next to intercede, and Jo was amused to see he was also blushing. "Women have to bleed sometimes… down there… in order to have babies."

Cole nodded, which made his large hat flap a bit. "Yes, but… why is that embarrassing?"

Varric looked confused. "It's… not?"

"Then why is everyone so embarrassed?"

They all looked at each other, before Jo decided to step in. She was sure her face was completely red, but she ignored it the best she could. "It's been stigmatized, Cole. It makes men uncomfortable because it is messy and different from their own experience, and it makes women uncomfortable because they feel forced to make it this secretive thing. And religious texts often paint it as dirty and defiling. Older civilizations in my world actually used to quarantine women away from society during that time."

The Iron Bull must have been listening, because he felt the need to stumble over to their table. "The Qun does not think of that kind of blood as dirty. It is considered natural and necessary. Just like sex."

Sweet baby Jesus, the man was huge. He was also thrumming with both wariness and curiosity. "So, other world? That sounds interesting."

Jo had to stop herself from snorting. His tone almost made it sound like a pick-up line. "Qunari society sounds interesting," she offered. And it did. From what little she remembered, the Qun operated as both a moral code, and a source of instruction shaping the structure of society and its government. It would be interesting to hear about a culture in which a singular text governed so much of society- after all, Jo came from a country that operated under the idea of "separation of church and state".

"Well, maybe sometime we could share?"

Jo frowned. Was he purposely trying to make everything he say sound provocative?

"Maybe," she offered with a bland smile, feeling a little uncomfortable at his size and attention. She unconsciously scooted just a bit closer to Cole, but didn't realize it until she saw the Ben-Hassrath zero in on the action. He frowned in consideration.

"Do you plan on joining us?" Varric asked, and Jo could hear the challenge in that invitation.

The Iron Bull smiled. "Nah, Krem and I are having a drinking contest. Anyone want to participate?" Was it just her, or was he looking at her when he said that?

Varric and Blackwall looked like they were seriously considering it, which prompted Jo to stand and excuse herself. "I hope you guys have fun. Have a good night." Cole stood next to her, prepared to follow her.

"Aw, come on Peaches. Can't handle a little bit of alcohol?" the dwarf teased.

Jo looked him in the eye. "You have no idea how excited I am to bathe right now. And I've held off long enough."

"Fair enough," Varric acquiesced, before adding, "But you don't need Cole for that, right? Or do you?"

Jo colored and pouted in irritation. "No. I don't."

Varric grinned. He got way too much enjoyment out of teasing her. "So, Kid, you want to try your hand at drinking?"

Cole frowned, still standing awkwardly, and Jo fairly glared at the man. Was he suggesting what she thought he was?

"I don't eat or drink, Varric."

"But that doesn't mean you can't, right? Just give it a shot."

The blonde rogue frowned, obviously unsure, but eventually nodded his head. "Alright." He sat back down.

Varric smiled at him encouragingly. "Attaboy."

Jo frowned unhappily. And then made her way around the table to get in the dwarf's face. "No funny business," she stated fiercely, before spinning on her heel and striding out of the tavern. She heard Varric repeat, "Funny business?", sounding confused, but Jo forced herself to keep walking.

The shared bathing room was blissfully empty, and Jo took her time scrubbing off all of the dirt that had accumulated during the day, and then soaking in the glyph-heating water. It felt fantastic on her sore muscles. And she just really enjoyed feeling clean. Maybe as a result of the over-emphasis of hygiene prominent in her culture? She wiggled her toes, ignoring the pruning taking place at the tips.

She guessed at least an hour had passed before she made it back to the tavern with the intention of turning in for the night.

Walking in she could hear a group of men singing in a drunken chorus. Looking over at their table she could see Blackwall was passed out, his form slumped ungracefully over the table-top, and Varric seemed to be swaying as he told a story, gesturing wildly with his arms. Cole sat between them, his hat missing, his cheeks more than a little red, and a huge grin on his face. Oh. That was cute… Well at least he seemed to be a happy drunk.

Jo headed up the stairs and entered their room. She removed her tunic, which she had worn over her tank top and leggings, and crawled into bed. Her legs hurt, but she wasn't sure she had the energy to massage them tonight. It felt like too much work.

The door opened while she was still thinking about it, and Cole, still hatless, ambled his way into the room. The way he closed the door made it look like an accident, and he began to strip his light armor and his shirt as he made his way closer to the bed.

Well, this was new. He had never taken off his clothes in front of her before. She couldn't stop herself from evaluating what she could see of his torso. Lean, and covered in scars, but the muscle was taut. Nice.

After which Jo felt ridiculous and slightly guilty for checking her friend out while he was clearly out of his mind with drink… "I don't mind," he stated, and Jo felt herself blush. She wondered if her cheeks were as red as his were now. Still…

She was in for another surprise as Cole climbed under the covers next to her, and then began massaging her legs for her. She started to protest, but he stopped her. "You're hurt. Let me help." And it did help. He seemed to use his gift to adjust until he was pressing with just the right amount of pressure. Where did he learn how to do that? She couldn't stop from groaning.

"Jo?"

"Hm?"

"Do you like my hat?"

What? Jo sat up and attempted to see Cole's face in the dark. "Your hat?"

He giggled. Jo assumed it was because of her expression. "Dorian said that if I wanted to be handsome I should change my hat. Although Varric doesn't mind it. He says it keeps the attention off my other flaws."

Jo felt a brow raise. They had these kind of discussions? "Well, I like the hat." She really did. It suited him. "Do you want to be handsome?"

"Yes. Do you think I'm handsome?"

"Yes," she stated quietly. She was thankful for the dark, because she was sure she was blushing again.

She could see the blonde rogue smile, though. "Thank you, Jo."

Jo nodded, although she wasn't sure Cole could see the movement. How good was his eyesight? She wondered if he thought she was pretty. Although what did pretty mean to him? She suspected he had a different understanding of the concept than she did.

"You are pretty, Jo. That boy didn't mean it. He liked the way the sun made your eyes look like the sea, but his friends were nearby. He liked them more."

Jo froze. She hadn't been consciously thinking of that, had she? She didn't like remembering about it, in any case. The boy in question had been rather mean.

"I made it worse. I'm sorry Jo. I can try again…"

"No, Cole," she stated, before taking a deep breath. "You are my friend. So whether you think I am pretty matters more. He doesn't matter."

"But it still hurts? The knot snags when you look in the mirror, and you wonder if anyone will ever think differently."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then that is all that matters."

Silence for several minutes, and then, "Jo? My head feels… numb. Like my fingers feel in the snow. Is my head cold?"

Jo giggled, and reaching out to touch his forehead. Warm. Not that she was expecting anything different. "You're drunk, sweetie."

"Sweetie…" he repeated the endearment happily, smiling again.

"Mmhm. Have you ever tasted anything sweet?"

Jo could see several of the blonde strands become highlighted by the moon as it came out from behind the clouds. The strands then shook from side to side in denial.

"Well, I am going to make you a cinnamon bun. To thank you for being such a great friend."

"I don't eat."

"I know. But would you be willing to try it? For me?"

Another pause. "Will it taste like Ale? I don't think I like Ale."

"Not at all."

"Okay Jo."

Jo sighed happily, and made her way back under the covers. Cole followed her actions and laid down beside her. Cold, she scooted over to the rogue's side, and put her head hesitantly on his shoulder. Oh, he was warm… This close to his face she could see he looked surprised, but instead of freezing, he nuzzled his head into hers with a smile. He then put his hand on her head and began to pet her in a familiar movement. She playfully nipped at his fingers, and he broke out in a fit of giggles.

He really was warm… She meant to say goodnight, but passed out before the words could come out of her mouth.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or any of its affiliates.

A/N: So... my original plans for this dinner kind of derailed... Thank you so much for your reviews! They encourage me to write more.