Saturday at Fisherman's Wharf; Nyla's favorite hangout when she felt lonely and needed comfort. Lots of people, plenty of benches to sit on, sea lions, the antique arcade, and her favorite food apart from tacos; a large sourdough roll hollowed out and filled with clam chowder.
Bread bowl in hand, she sat on a bench and looked out at the water. A small blond boy around three smiled at her as he walked by, an ice cream cone in his hand. The random smile was exactly what she needed. Grinning at him happily, his little smile got bigger, and he flopped his hand in the air in an ecstatic greeting. I need one of those in a bit, Nyla thought, wondering if gelato would make her feel better. Nooo definitely time for a walk to Ghirardelli Square, god their ice cream is so good. I wonder what flavor ice cream Zevran likes. I bet he likes mint chocolate chip in a sugar cone. It would get melty and he would... lick around it with… broad flat strokes… oh god. She sighed with a shiver.
A happy couple stood nearby, an arm around each other. Well, they look happy, anyway. I sure hope they are. She spooned the last of her clam chowder into her mouth and bit the bowl. Fucking, so good. I wonder if Zevran likes clam chowder. I bet he does.
Pigeons pecked around at the ground nearby. Watching pigeons had always made her happy; watching them bash their own faces off the ground to eat imperceptible things. Hilarious. I wonder if Zevran likes pigeons? I bet he does. She placed the remaining bread bowl on the ground and four pigeons flapped to it with gusto. Then five. Seven. Nyla giggled, watching them whack it around and pull on it as if they hadn't eaten in decades.
"You don't fool me, little birds. You've been eating all day." She smiled, nudging it a little further away from herself with her foot. "Excuse me ladies and or gentlemen, I must go visit the sea lions and wait to be hungry again so I can cram strawberry cheesecake ice cream down my gullet as fast as I can." I'm talking to birds. I'm not lonely or anything. Nyla looked at the nearby couple who were smiling at her and her bird dialogue. She returned their smile.
She hopped up and checked for her purse again. Of course it was there; heavy, the strap resting on one shoulder and under her opposite arm, her light raincoat pulled on over it. Can't be too careful, a small woman walking around by herself in a big city, I AM NOT SMALL! She furrowed her brow and walked taller and faster, surveying passers by for height. Taller than me… that lady is taller, he's taller, she's taller, taller, aha! I am taller than this hunchbacked old woman! Ah fuck. FUCK! She chuckled and pointed her eyes forward. I am not tiny.
Walking briskly down the pier, she felt keen appreciation for the way the sun sparkled on the water, imagined Zevran would enjoy it. Climbing a sizeable concrete pyramid intended for sitting, she sat at the very top. WHO'S TINY NOW, ANDERS!? She looked down on people with a contented smile. Watching sea lions, she stared at a large, loud one bellowing his head off. No other sea lions seemed to be bothering it, it had a whole little dock to itself. What in the world is this one bellowing about? Is it lonely? Just talking? Mating call, maybe?
Twenty minutes ticked by, watching sea lion antics, feeling taller than everyone else, Nyla bored of it after a while. After taking a few Tylenol from her pocket to help the subtle sting of her healing tattoo and popping a piece of nicotine gum in her mouth she moved on, headed toward the Musée Mécanique; the antique arcade. Nyla brought dimes so she could look at risqué pictures from the 1920's.
She spoke the words in her head for a while as she ignored the height of around everyone around her. Musée Mécanique. God, why is it such a pretty thing to say? Musée Mécanique. If a Spanish person, for example, Zevran, spoke French, how would his accent impact his speaking French? Can I google this? She stopped outside the Musée Mécanique and pulled her phone from her purse. Resting her elbows on the wooden barrier between herself and the ocean, she hit the home button on her phone. A text message from Zevran displayed on the lock screen.
Amor, while it is not my intent to infringe on your desire for solitude on this day, you promised you would text me two hours ago, and I am concerned for your wellbeing.
"Shit. It's 5:30." She whispered, swiping her finger across the screen in a rush; guilt, sadness, and longing hit her like a ton of bricks, and she dropped her phone in the ocean. "Oh my fucking god! Why was I holding my phone over the fucking ocean?"
"That sucks!" A woman her age nearby spoke sympathetically; she backed away from the wooden barrier with a laugh. "I'm doing it too. Do you need a phone?"
"Well…" Nyla scrubbed her face. "We don't do the phone number memorizing thing anymore so… not really. Thanks a lot, though. I just wanted to ask google what kind of problems a Spanish speaking person trying to speak French might have. Then I saw this text from my boyfriend and it all went to hell from there."
"Yeah, sucks." She looked down at her phone and busied herself with a text.
"Thanks again." Nyla walked away feeling awkward. Dammit I hate it when I get dismissed like that. What the shit do people have against talking to a stranger? I'm not scary. I'm a tiny woman, literally the least intimidating thing out here- GOD DAMMIT ANDERS I'M NOT TINY! She walked into the Musée Mécanique with a frustrated pout.
Phone gone, no music, no way to return Zevran's text; her mood soured and nothing around her looked appealing. Damn. Sorry, Laughing Sal, not in the mood, she thought to the giant, mechanical woman on her way out the door. Ice cream time. She headed for Ghirardelli Square, hoping the line wasn't a mile long so she didn't miss her phone too much. She really wanted to text Zevran. She felt bad, and at the same time imagined he would understand.
Nyla hadn't realized she went in the wrong direction until she heard the sea lions again, and she turned around with a sigh. Okay, Nyla, we have been over this. It's a right out the door of the Musée Mécanique. It was growing dark by the time she made it to Ghirardelli square, the line a mile long, and she couldn't handle it. Palace of Fine Arts. I need to see it. She began walking briskly, passing Musée Mécanique again, she turned around with a frustrated huff. Left outside of Ghirardelli Square, Nyla! Fuck!
Halfway to the Palace of Fine arts, it grew too dark, not a soul around her, she didn't feel safe and changed her mind, walking back toward the wharf. I want to see the big sailboat.
She sat on the sand to watch tiny waves lap at the shore, feeling heavy and lonely, surrounded by a few happy sounding people. Counting the masts of the big sailboat, Nyla thought about her family, and the many outings they had together. Her parents were always holding hands; Nyla smiled at the memory, and it faltered as she realized, two years ago today around that time they were arriving at the hotel.
"They only have four rooms available, all of them have one bed."
"I want to stay in a room with you, Auntie!" Oren spoke from his perch on Alistair's shoulders.
"Who will stay with me, Oren? You're going to leave your poor mother alone?"
"Mom, you can stay with Grandma."
"But then who will I stay with?"
"Grandpa, you will stay with Alistair." Oren spoke simply.
"I'm not sharing a bed with your grandfather." Alistair laughed.
"We can't stay here." Their heads whipped around to look at Nyla. "It's going to catch fire, let's go somewhere else."
Nyla stood up in a panic and started walking, THAT is what I wish happened! She tripped over the concrete stairs, scuffing her knees.
"You alright?" A masculine voice spoke.
Ignoring him, she stood up and briskly walked uphill to get back onto the sidewalk. It's a right … it's left to the… I need my phone. I need my GPS. She spun a few circles. I need to call Mom. I mean Zevran. I need to call Zevran. This started to feel a bit too much like insanity. She stopped to close her eyes and breathe.
Musée Mécanique is a right from Ghirardelli square, which I am facing. I go left. I will catch the trolley. She began walking. No. Don't think about that… making love with Alistair that night in the hotel. His gentle nasally moans, whispered I love yous, the way he giggled and covered her mouth as she reached orgasm. No, don't think about that. She shook her head and looked around at the thinning crowd. How dare that couple look like my parents! Casting her eyes downward, she blinked back tears. She tried to straighten out her shoulders and walk tall, but she felt so very heavy.
"Nyla?" He began to cry. "Little sister, come on, look at me. Hey. Don't try to talk. Shhh." He pet her hair, holding her hand.
"You're in Eureka." She coughed, blinked to clear the blur. "Happy birthday!"
"No, honey, it's your-" he kissed her hand and sobbed. "How are you feeling?"
"Hurts." She looked around. Hospital? This wasn't right. "Where's mom?"
With a trembling hand he pressed the call button, a feminine voice replied. "Can I help you?"
"She's awake and in pain." Fergus wiped his tears away with the back of his hand.
"Be right there."
"Fergus where's mom?" Panic escalated.
"Honey, mom isn't here, it's just me."
"When's she going to be here?" Disappointed eyes landed on a the nurse who walked in and began fiddling with the IV attached to her. "Did she say when she's going to be here, Fergus? I need her."
"She's not coming, Nyla. She can't."
"Why not?" Nyla watched the nurse walk out, a choked back sob and a hand over her mouth.
"There was a fire at the hotel." He watched his little sister's face fall as understanding seeped in.
"Oh, god." She stared at the wall beyond the foot of her bed.
Nyla shook her head, blinked back tears. Nope. Stop it. She waited for the trolley.
"I'm sorry, I am not allowed to tell you if she's been into work today, or when she's supposed to be here or anything like that." The man spoke kindly and firmly. "It's for her safety. Believe me, lots of men have-"
"I understand, I am glad you have such a policy, however…" Lots of men!? Zevran sighed palming his face. "Look, is Cassandra here?"
"Sure, I'll go get her but she will tell you the same thing." He disappeared and came back with her quickly.
"You did the right thing, Cremisius, always do that. But I know Zevran, he is her partner." Cassandra looked at Zevran, "She hasn't been in today. Birthdays are paid holidays here."
It felt like someone had swung a baseball bat with every bit of their strength and whacked him in the chest. "I'm sorry? Excuse me?"
"I assumed she would be with you right now." Cassandra rested her hands on her hips with a sigh and shook her head. "You forgot her birthday. Okay, look, order flowers, have them delivered to her house-"
"I did not know it was her birthday. Are you positive?"
"I had to see her identification in order to hire her, of course I know. Don't look so devastated, it's not as if someone died. Maybe she is just shy about it."
"I understand… thank you." He turned around and walked briskly out the door. Jesus fucking Christ, Nyla, your entire family died on your fucking birthday? It was no mystery to him why she wouldn't want to bring it up. He shook his head and thought hard. She wasn't at her place, he received no read receipt after he sent his text, this was unlike her. What the fuck, Zevran? Nyla is a grown woman, go home.
Leli
Leli
Leliana
Lelianaaaaa
What's up?
Seen Nyla? Spoken to her?
No, why?
Has Anders?
He said nope and he asked why. What's going on?
Let me know if you hear from her?
Sure!
He ordered a Lyft to take him back to Nyla's place and could not shake the feeling; something is very fucking wrong.
"Fergus?"
He wept, petting her hair. "Yeah, sis?"
"How bad is mom hurt?"
"She's gone, honey."
"Wait, no." Nyla looked at him with a wide, horrified stare. "Dead gone?"
He nodded, crying hard. "They're all gone, Alistair... isn't well... I'm so glad I still have you."
"No. Wait." Her head flopped back on the pillow and she stared at the ceiling. "Mom!"
"I'm sorry." He kissed her hand, "Honey, I'm sorry. Please."
"Mom!" This wasn't real. She just had to… had to wake up! That's all. A bad dream. It's a dream.
Nyla got off the trolley having missed her stop, and arrived who fucking knew where. She wiped a tear from her cheek, her heart pounded, she shivered from the cold and emotional turmoil; it began to rain. Without a phone she couldn't call a cab, it was late and dark, she was losing her shit and she needed to get home where she could hole up and feel safe; a cab drove by and she waved her arms. He pulled over, she jumped in, relieved to escape the sudden downpour. Giving her address, he started the journey, and she sat back comfortably and stared out the window; crisis averted.
Sitting in her room, Nyla stared sleepily at the ceiling. Pain killers numbed her, and she thought about nothing, her tv on only to provide background noise.
"Sis?" Fergus knocked on the door jam and walked in.
"Heyyy, bro!" She yawned and raised her arm in a lazy wave, glad for the company. "Come on in. What's shakin', bacon?"
"We need to talk."
He did not sound like a happy brother. Fergus sat on the foot of her bed and met her eyes.
"Have you been crying?" She shifted to lay on her side, cringing from the pain in her leg. He nodded. What he would be crying about just seemed obvious to her. "Fergus… how is Alistair?"
He swallowed thickly, and took a deep breath to steady himself. "I'm sorry, Nyla. He's gone."
She sat up straight with a gasp and shook her head, feeling as though she would be sick. Give me a break, Nyla, that was 2 years ago. Zevran. Think about Zevran. Warm embraces, sweet kisses, gorgeous smiles and mirthful chuckles… so sweet. It only made her hide her face and cry, made her miss him, and suddenly she needed him so badly; if only she hadn't lost her phone. Surroundings started to look familiar, she was almost home; if only she had his address.
"Wait. Do you know how to get to High Dragon Tattoo?" She sat up, sniffled, wiped tears from her cheeks and sighed. "I need to go there instead."
"I'll look it up." He pulled over, didn't seem to care she was crying, and she was glad. "Yep. Got it."
"Thanks." Nyla nodded with a fake, quivering smile as if he could see her. Oh god, it hurts. She breathed deeply to stop the tears, to prepare herself to see him. 'If it ever comes up, I want you to know it is safe to show me your tears, without apology.' She believed him, trusted him, but she preferred by far to get her shit together.
Returning to Nyla's apartment, after a knock and a polite wait, he used his key. Perhaps he was being needy, he thought, but he was worried! She promised a 3pm text to let him know she was alright; did failing to fulfill her promise mean she wasn't? Amor, what is happening?
Standing in her kitchen, he took a moment to look around, discovering something new; a coffee pot with two white mugs sitting beside it ready for use. So sweet, he couldn't wait to use them with her. A piece of twine across her kitchen sink up high, the flowers he recently bought her hung upside down, drying. He smiled; she was preserving the flowers he bought her, and his girlfriend was beginning to feel safe enough in her life to own things.
Proceeding to the living room, Cat stood up, stretched and chirped, rubbed on his legs. Picking him up, Zevran sighed, idly scratching Cat's head. "Where is your mamá?"
He walked to her bedroom with Cat purring contentedly in his arms; of course she wasn't there. I should wait for her. He looked at his phone, checked to see if she read his message. Nope. It's 8:30pm, and you are standing in your girlfriend's apartment uninvited waiting for her to come back. She is an adult, you don't own her. Go home, Zevran.
Standing in front of Zevran's tattoo parlor in the rain, Nyla chuckled to herself. Of course it's raining. Jesus Christ, why is this my life? She knew her way from there. Three blocks… two over, one down. She reached behind herself to put her hood up; it was gone. Of course, earlier that day she had unsnapped it and left it on her bedroom floor. Nice. She sighed audibly and chuckled, hugging herself as cold rain slid down her raincoat. Okay breathe. I'm going to visit Zevran and we'll laugh about what I did to my phone. A fifteen minute walk, she felt lighter. Knocking on the door in a playful rhythm, to set the mood for her arrival, Leliana opened the door, smiling, excited to see her.
"Sketchbook Girl! You're all wet! Seriously, I have a car. If you don't have money for a cab just ask me to-" Her smile faltered. "You alright?"
Just seeing her friend, Nyla cringed in the midst of her own forced smile. She wanted to hug her friend so badly but didn't want to get her soaking wet. "Is Zevran here?" Is all she could manage, as her heart pounded. She's going to think I'm crazy.
Leliana spoke sympathetically reaching for her, an inviting gesture to come in from the rain, "I'm sorry, Nyla. He's gone. Come inside."
It was as if an unseen hand reached inside her head and mashed every panic button on the panel. Clutching her chest, her vision grew spotty, she felt a sudden weight too heavy for her legs to bear and grabbed the railing for stability. "Don't say that Leli!"
"Nyla? What's wrong?" She moved to grab Nyla's arm, steadying her. "What did I say?"
"Don't say that, Leli!" She sobbed, tightness in her chest, knees so weak, "Don't say that, Leli!"
Holding Nyla's arm, Leliana looked closely at her, eyes searching her face, wondering what happened, what to do, she looks like a child, and so shattered… "Come inside."
Nyla pulled from her grasp, sat on the stairs and hugged herself.
"I'm sorry, Nyla. He's gone."
"No, don't say that." Nyla covered her eyes. "Don't say that, Fergus!"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He reached out and stroked her arm.
"Don't say that, Fergus! Don't say that!"
Sitting on the concrete steps, she brought a hand up to palm her forehead. Don't say that. Don't say that. She cried hard, rocking herself, her leg bouncing of its own accord. I'm not okay... oh shit, I'm not okay...
Leliana felt lost, she didn't know what to do… she needed backup. "Anders, help!"
Her voice carried to him and he ran from his bedroom. "Leliana? What? Is someone crying?"
"Help me get her inside."
"Get who..." he stood at the door with his mouth agape, tiny Sketchbook Girl wailing and rocking on their stairs. He stepped out into the rain and rested a hand on her back and spoke with soft tones he usually reserved for cats, "Hey why you cryin' Sketchy? Will you come inside?" When she didn't respond, he looked up at Leliana, "Is she injured?"
"No-"
"Where's Zevran?"
"I think he's still looking for her," Leliana replied shakily.
Zevran witnessed the commotion from down the street as the car approached his home. Leliana standing in the doorway with one arm around her waist and hand over her heart, Anders standing in the rain to rest a comforting hand on Nyla's back; Zevran had never seen their faces so perturbed. Rushing out of the car, heart in his throat, he couldn't move fast enough, the splat of wet concrete beneath his boots echoed as he ran, and the sounds of desperate, breathless weeping grew louder as he closed in on her.
"Amor?" he spoke breathlessly, reaching out to stroke his beautiful woman's ice-cold cheek. "Nyla?"
Her face scrunched with crying, Nyla peered up at him from behind a protective hand and briefly reached the other toward him. The relief of seeing those warm golden-brown eyes hurt far too much; he's right there and I'm too wet I can't hold him I'm too wet too cold- warm arms wrapping around her interrupted her looping thoughts, and her body went weightless as Zevran picked her up from the cold, wet stairs.
"I have you," he spoke softly, cradling her and walking up the few remaining steps, turning sideways to fit through the doorway. It all felt so dreamlike, carrying her. His lover's weeping tugged at his heart, making him ache. He walked slowly through their kitchen, and her arms wrapped around his neck, so cold, amor . "I have you."
"She only just showed up a few minutes ago and I only told her you weren't here and then this happened I don't know what-"
"Leli, Leli," Anders spoke gently, urgently, resting a hand on her arm. "This isn't your fault. She's going to be fine. Just relax." Leliana stared at him wide eyed, near tears, and he opened his arms. "Come on. Hug it out."
"This isn't a laughing matter." Leliana chuckled despite herself. "I don't know what I did that hurt her so badly. I feel so bad!"
"Whatever it is, it's not your fault. I'm going to stand here like this until you're ready to hug this shit out."
Hushed voices of their friends grew more distant as he ascended the stairs to his room. Upon entering, he sat her on his wooden folding chair; the one he so often sat in while he sketched her in the mornings while she slept.
Apart from the obvious - being alone on her birthday and it being the second anniversary of the death of her family - he had no idea what had happened to set her off on his doorstep. She shivered from the cold, breathing erratically through hiccuping tears; his poor amor, but at least he knew where she was. At least now he didn't have to feel helpless as he wandered, searching for her.
"Amor." He pulled away from her gently, she was reluctant to let him go. "Let's get you warm. Okay?"
Zevran started with unzipping her jacket, and with a quivering sigh and a sniffle, her eyes met his, and he smiled just for her, taking a moment to gently touch her cheek.
Something about his warm gaze on hers, the smile he shared, gentle touches and the heartfelt desire to offer her comfort, her tears intensified. Zevran pulled on the sleeves of her coat and when she was free from its confines she raised her hands to hide behind her palms.
"Nyla?" He took her hands in his and she breathed deeply, he could see her struggle in her attempts to compose herself. Her pained gaze met his, lips and nose twitching. Kissing her cold fingers, he just wanted comfort for her, safety. He didn't know what was wrong, he had curiosity, but it seemed to be the least important thing in that moment. "I just want you to feel safe," he whispered. "Please don't hide."
It was hard, and her hands twitched with the desire to cover her face, to hide; she closed her eyes instead. He's going to think I'm crazy. The weight of her purse left her shoulder, and feeling a tug on the hem of her shirt, she lifted her arms. The sopping, long sleeved, plain black shirt peeled off of her and hit the floor with a wet splat, she shivered as he reached behind her and warm fingers unclasped her bra. A few moments later a towel brushed along her arms, and then patted her braided hair. You're not a child, Nyla, Jesus… he brushed her hands away when she tried to help.
"Let me." he whispered, draping the towel over her shoulders and rubbing her arms to generate heat. He bent down and removed her soaked shoes and socks. Taking her hands, he helped her to stand. Pulling down her knee length skirt, the bandage over her tattoo was barely affixed, moistened and sliding off of her; he removed it and tossed it on the pile of wet clothing. Her light blue cotton panties (clearly she had not prepared for him) survived the downpour, and he had a joke saved for later. Placing a gentle kiss on her thigh, he noticed scrapes on her knees. Ugh, and she fell down at some point. His girlfriend had some of the worst luck he had ever witnessed. Retrieving his plush bathrobe from his closet, it was satisfying and enjoyable for him to slide it over her arms, wrap her in it, tying it with a loose bow.
She stood motionless, the effort of just letting someone take care of her distracted from tears, but the ache remained, the weight just as heavy. Nimble fingers unbraided her hair, and he blotted her hair with the towel; shivering subsided a little, and she opened her eyes, his stare was soft as he walked away and pulled back the bedcovers.
"Get comfy, and in a moment dry Zevran will join you." His sweet girlfriend looked to be in a daze as she complied, curling up on her right side to face him; she always took the left side of the bed, he had come to expect it, and for reasons unknown it made him smile. The relief of stripping off cold, wet clothes was stark; he wiped himself dry, and slipped on a simple t-shirt and shorts. Crawling beneath the covers with her, he spoke with open arms, "Come here, amor, Zevran needs to cuddle you."
"I want to lay on your chest," she whispered, her voice cracking with the effort of asserting her preference.
He shifted to lay on his back, and she curled tight against him. Sniffling and resting her head on his heart, Zevran wondered if she always slept to his left so she could do just this; curl up on him to have a beating heart against her ear. Regardless of the truth of it, he felt so much love for her.
"My hair is getting your shirt wet."
"No te inquietes, preciosa." Do not be troubled, precious, he spoke softly, encouraging her with gentle movements to stay. "Deja que te ame." Let me love you.
"What did you say?" She whispered.
"Essentially... chill out, amor." He spoke playfully, kissing her forehead, running fingers through her hair. "You are safe."
Safe… examining the concept brought her to tears again, and in trying to repress them, she let out a quivering, noisy sigh. "I'm sss- god dammit!" She chuckled, simultaneously letting herself cry, hiding her face.
"Yes," Zevran crooned, holding her tight, a hand brushing her hair. "No apologizing. Nyla is safe."
"Are we ever, really?" She spoke tearfully. "I went to sleep surrounded by people I loved, people I trusted… I had a tribe, and I woke up surrounded by death" Clinging to him, she asked, "Why is my tribe gone?"
"Mmm." He kissed her forehead, imagining tribe. She spoke the word as if it had so much significance.
Lifting her head to look at him, "I had something precious. My family, a tribe... it's gone, and I can never have it again."
"No?" He tilted his head at her, beginning to understand.
"They knew me from infancy, gave me everything, knew me in a way nobody else can," with quivering lips she sighed shakily, "And when I lost them, it changed me. It changed my heart and soul, the way I look and feel and the world became so dark…" She felt compelled to apologize again as she buried her face in his shirt and repressed tears. "The light never fucking came back, it's still so fucking dark."
An experience so jarring it alters your universe; oh yes, Zevran could relate to that in a big way.
"Zevran, I asked for this. I wanted to see Fergus for- reasons!"
"Your birthday." He spoke for her, meeting her eyes.
"It was my special day and they asked me what I wanted, and I said I wanted…" she floundered, the words stuck in her throat.
"Big brother." Something hit him when he spoke it, his chest feeling tight, eyes growing moist. "All you wanted for your birthday from your family was to spend time with them, and with your big brother."
She looked up at him, nodding, face scrunched from tears withheld. After a few moments, she sighed and asked, "Okay, how did you figure out my birthday? I hid that from you."
"Mmm." Zevran sighed, tucking her damp hair behind her ear. "Well, when I did not hear from you as you promised, and I must say, I firmly believe you would never intentionally break a promise, I became concerned. First, I knocked on your door, no answer. Then I went to your work, because you do not check your phone at work so often-"
"You went looking for me?"
"Yes, of course. I spoke to Cassandra, she told me of course you were not there, birthdays are paid holidays."
"Oh."
"Yes. It was a most unpleasant realization, to learn it is your birthday among everything else. It just seemed to cut so deeply, I needed to have you near me. So I went back to your place, and let myself in with the key you gave me. Just needing to be near you, not knowing where you were, what happened to you, I lingered for too long. I wish I had been here to greet you."
"Can I tell you my secrets?"
"Yes!" He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Fucking yes, amor! Why would I not be completely stoked about this?"
With a chuckle she sat up. "Okay. I need a book from my purse. Not the smaller black one. The bigger blue one."
"This is why Nyla's purse feels like it is full of books." He retrieved the book for her. "Your purse is only damp."
"Water resistant." She smiled sadly as she settled the book on her lap. Zevran took a moment to turn on his space heater, returning to her with soft relief in his heart, eager to hear her secrets; it was finally his turn to be awesome for her.
Leaning on pillows against the headboard, Zevran pulled the covers over their legs. Cozy, so domesticated, it felt lovely and novel; he craned his neck to kiss her cheek as she opened her book. A picture of 6 ballerinas stretching, warming up.
"See?" She pointed to the very pale skinned ballerina with her back to the camera, hands gracefully clasped behind her. "That was me, four years ago."
"Yes, Zevran could easily recognize his girlfriend's long legs in a lineup." A tap on his bedroom door caught their attention. "Come!"
Anders opened the door and stepped aside for Leliana, holding two cups of hot tea. "I thought you both might want a hot drink after being in the cold." Leliana placed them on the end table closes to Zevran. "Or do you want something else? Hot chocolate instead? Coffee? Are you hungry?"
"I have rootbeer!" Anders added. "Also vanilla ice cream. I can make floats?"
"Please," Nyla held her palms up, gesturing for them to stop; the sweetness was too much, and she was too near crying. "You're literally fucking killing me." Well, now she was crying, raising her hands to cover her eyes.
"Oh!" Leliana backed away, wide eyed.
Anders followed her lead, "Sorry! It's a bad time, we'll go."
"Yes, get out of Zevran's room, troublemakers!" He spoke playfully, wrapping a protective arm around Nyla. "Making Zevran's tiny girlfriend cry with your tea and kindness! How dare!"
"I'm not fucking tiny." She looked up from behind her hands, smiling and laughing through tears, "And I want a rootbeer float later."
"What is going on?" Leliana giggled, backing away slowly toward the door.
"I don't know, Leli, let's run for it, and just make sure Sketchbook Girl has ice cream later so she doesn't cry or anything and get us in trouble with Zevran." He backed out slowly, closing the door with exaggerated caution. Anders voice carried up the stairs "Doesn't she look so cute in Zevran's fuzzy blue robe? Dammit they're so cute!"
"It's really hard for me to feel bad about anything when the most important thing for him to immediately address is the memory of me in your bathrobe." She sniffled, and Zevran handed her a cup of tea. "Not the tears, or the emotional instability, or accusations of attempted murder."
"Mmm hmm." He smiled, "Your friends just wanted to see you are okay."
"Oh, they're my friends now?" She smiled.
"Only when they are being annoying. When they are being cool, then they are Zevran's friends."
"Oh, I see how it is." Nyla chuckled, placing her tea on the table on her side of the bed. She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose vigorously. "That's much better. You know, when you cry, you do it so gracefully. Tears down your cheeks, your eyes might swell a little bit. When I cry, my eyes get all bright red, and it's like... snot everywhere. Tears like a wellspring. I could drown us."
"Everything you do is cute. Show me more of your book?" He smiled for her, glad his roommates showed up to bring levity into the hell she had been trapped in. As a weight seemed to lift off of her, he began to understand her a little better; family, tribe, had always been essential to her. She needed it to thrive and grow, and he almost wept imagining this woman going years without close human contact when it was all she wanted; it must have been hell for her.
"This is when we all went to Paris. Three years ago. That's me on the left, Alistair on the right. My dad took this picture." A favorite of hers even if it was taken from behind them; they sat on the grass, her long hair in a ponytail, Alistair laid back to rest on his elbows, their drinks between them. They were having so much fun, looking up at the Eiffel Tower.
"Hmm. Let's go climb it." Alistair spoke thoughtfully.
"Can we?" She smiled at him. "Is there a way? Let's ask around."
"What?" He looked back at her, blinking rapidly.
"What? I love climbing shit, you know this."
He laughed hard, "Not scaling the outside, I mean climbing up the stairs on the inside. It would be fun."
"Oh. Ohhh. I guess that could be fun." Nyla rolled her eyes. "Fun like climbing a metric fuckton of stairs."
"Metric fuckton." Alistair chortled.
With an excited cackle, she realized how funny she was. "Yes, I don't calculate stairs by how many there are. I weigh them."
Absently, she rested her hand on the picture to cover Alistair, imagining herself alone looking up at the Eiffel Tower. What would it have been like without him? She shuddered, and Zevran laid his hand on hers. It surprised her, and she watched tearfully as he laced his fingers with hers.
Resting his head against hers, he spoke softly, "I am sorry amor, that your heart is broken."
"Thank you." She whispered, curling her fingers with his.
A few moments later he withdrew his hand. "Next page?"
"Skipping that one." Nyla spoke plainly.
"No skipping." Surprisingly, she listened to him, and showed him the face of a beautiful young man. "I am guessing this is Alistair?"
"Yes." She stroked the page with her fingertips. "He was lovely, inside and out. A good man. My best friend." Turning her head to look at Zevran, with a smile she spoke softly, "I hope this isn't weird."
"No, amor." He shook his head, "If you recall, I shared about Rinna. I imagine I know what it was like for you to hear it, now. It is a relief to hear it, as if you are trusting me with your private world. Trusting me to not become jealous or hurt by comparisons."
"Yes." She kissed him full on the mouth. It had to happen, he was being too perfect. When she looked away, she turned the page. "Ah. Vacation with my best friends. That's Beth. This one here, is Heather. We went on a cruise. See how tan I was?"
"Mmm hmm. Very nice." He stared at her smiling face. Such a big smile, one he had never seen. Clear eyes sparkled with untroubled youth. Innocence. This was a very different Nyla, only vaguely recognizable. "I am curious... am I hearing secrets right now?"
"I'm getting there." She turned the page. "My parents walking on the beach and holding hands. They held hands all the time. Just a little touch, a little way to connect so the other knows you're right there. I had the privilege of growing up with parents in love. Probably part of why I am so selective with who I will give my heart to... looking for the person who wants to hold my hand all the time." She sighed, turned the page. "Ah, this. This was taken by Fergus, he wanted to commemorate the moment of my first steps since the fire for some reason. And now I'm stuck with an image of my depressing face as I emotionally prepared myself for pain."
"This is not a depressing face. This is the face of a warrior." He loved the picture, her hair mussed, face pale, she looked fierce and ready, glaring straight ahead, concentrating deeply; an expression worthy of being put to canvas. "I see exactly why Fergus took this picture."
"Thank you." She spoke softly, hesitating before turning the page with a trembling hand. "These aren't in any order. After I lost everyone, I just felt the need to… express these things somewhere. It started out as favorite memories. Then, after a while, it got a little weird." She sighed deeply. "I tore this picture out of a magazine. Dark clouds were calming, somehow. Overcast skies."
Zevran leaned over to read aloud the small caption written in her hand. "It is impossible to answer the question 'What's wrong?' when nothing is right."
"The words in my head as I began my downward spiral." Nyla smirked at him, and turned the page. "A picture Fergus took when we went out for dinner together. My first time dressing up nice, going to a restaurant. He thought those were happy tears I was wiping away, and I let him believe it. He said he loved this picture, thought I would want it so he printed it and gave it to me. I found this clipping in a magazine, and I was… just letting off some steam, from being so sorely misunderstood."
"That's… very sad." He drew a finger along the words pasted over her eyes, 'I'm fine,' and looked at Nyla, her brow furrowed with an exaggerated frown. "Okay amor?"
"Yes." She whispered, turning the page, her anxiety rising. "No. Just… just look." She handed the book to him. "I can't do this. Please just look."
With a deep breath to steady himself, Zevran held the book. Another clipping of a beautiful stormy sky, another caption. 'There's nothing left for me here.' His heart leaped into his throat. Next page; 'I am broken,' scrawled haphazardly across an image of lightning across the sky. "Oh, amor."
He could see the progression of how her mind had begun to twist, and deep depression had settled into her. A picture of Cat splayed on his back in a patch of sunlight, 'I want to die and be reincarnated as a cat.' A suicidal ideation disguised as a jest; so many unseen cries for help.
"Nyla." He whispered, turning the page. A picture of Nyla hugging her knees on a bed. It looked much like a hospital. Small bed, plain walls, a single chair in the corner. "Tell me about this picture."
"It's none of your fucking business, Fergus!" Nyla raged at him.
"Nyla, you tried to kill yourself and it's not my business? Let me find you help."
"I did NOT try to kill myself!"
"You took all of these," he held the empty bottle up and shook it, "with a bottle of whiskey, now tell me exactly, what were you trying to do?"
She looked at the floor and spoke with a shrug, "Get fucked up?"
"I have never heard those words out of your mouth in my entire life." He let it go, and pleaded with her, "Let me find help for you. I'll do all of it. I'll make the calls… I promise to get the best money can buy."
"There is no cure for… I'm fine! God damn!" She stormed to the other side of her room, running shaking hands through her hair. "Fergus... just fucking get out."
He paused and watched her pace. "If you don't go willingly, I will make you go."
"Bullshit." Nyla glared angrily at him.
"All I have to do is make a call." He met her angry stare with his own.
She stormed up close to him. "Bullshit," she spat "Don't threaten me as if I don't know how the system works, how therapy works. I'm not a fucking child you can intimidate. Get out of my fucking room."
"Alright, look, I don't want to fight. You need help." The pain in his stare as he backed away did not phase her; this was not the little sister he knew and loved. "You've changed, Nyla."
"And you haven't," she scowled, letting her disgust show. "How fucked is that?"
"I made one attempt with pills and alcohol… then a woman held me from… a jump. I didn't know she was there. She had her young son call…" She ran a hand through her hair, remembering the care the strangers showed, the questions they asked… so loving. "Fuck, so humiliating. I spent several months in this facility. My brother liked my haircut, said it suited me."
"Shit." His lips quivered and he absently caressed the picture. Long locks which once reached the small of her back rested at shoulder length. An empty stare. Curled in on herself, hugging herself. "Shit."
He closed the book as if he had seen the end, as if the next picture wasn't of himself smiling broadly with abject love in his stare. 'Hola, amor. Sneaking up on me ?' looking up from a sketchbook that he immediately snapped shut when he noticed her standing there. Words by Rilke, her favorite poet, scrawled in her hand beneath it; 'You help me realize how beautiful my world is.'
Holding the book in his hands, he looked up at her, where to begin? Emotions bottlenecked, leaving him stuck and staring at her lovely, innocent face. His lips parted, poised to speak but words wouldn't come. I love you, I want to protect you and I wish I could have, I'm so glad you're alive, I'm so sorry this happened, I'm sorry it hurt too much, I'm sorry you have no tribe, I wish your heart didn't get shattered, you're too precious for this, you didn't deserve this, none of this is your fault.
"What to say, right?" Nyla watched his forlorn stare as he brushed the book with gentle fingertips. "You remind me of myself, watching you on the rooftop, wondering what to say or do." Retrieving the book from his hands, she set it aside. You didn't see the end, she wanted to say, but… "You didn't see the end," she spoke softly, because taking risks and laying herself bare are simply, her jam.
"Oh," he spoke softly, and retrieved the book, flipping it open.
He could see the appeal of the picture she chose, even though he was just sitting there in a simple t-shirt and shorts with his hair in a messy bun, haphazardly pulled up so he could just get started with his drawing. He had never seen himself this way, his smile, his eyes, just for her; apparently smiling for the camera and smiling for your woman are two entirely different things.
"The day we met, you encouraged me to dance when I needed to." Nyla said with a shy smile, "You have inspired me." Leaning her head on his shoulder she spoke softly, "You help me realize how beautiful my world is."
Turning his head to look at her, their lips a mere inch apart, he whispered, "Same, amor," and he had never loved anyone or anything so deeply in his entire life. "You seem so still. So calm," he cupped her cheek, stroking her with his thumb. "I don't know how you are this calm."
Taking Zevran's hand from her cheek, Nyla rested it on her heart so he could feel her heart pounding, sounding in her ears, a soft smile on her lips. "Only calm on the outside."
Zevran put the book aside and grabbed her, held her to himself, laid down with her and held her ear to his heart with a gentle palm. "You withhold too much. Crying is good for you."
"I've cried enough." Her voice quivered despite herself, and she tried to mask it with laughter. "I dropped my phone in the ocean by accident, so I couldn't text you."
Brushing his fingers through her hair, he felt the tension she held in her body, subtle trembling, her breath shallow. "God dammit, Nyla. Why is your luck so bad?"
"It's mostly my own stupidity." She chuckled, eyes misty.
He kissed her head. "Tell me what happened on the doorstep that made you cry."
"Something funny, actually." She laughed again, to fight the tears. "Leliana said I'm sorry, Nyla. He's gone. " Chest convulsing momentarily from withheld tears, she added, "It's funny in hindsight, anyway. Of all the words-"
"Not funny, amor." His heart ached and his eyes hurt with the need to cry. "Today is your birthday, the anniversary of the tragic death of your family. You dropped your phone in the ocean, fell down and scraped your knees, got caught in a rainstorm, and for one horrifying moment you believed you lost the person closest to you, again. Nyla, none of this is funny. "
"It is." She couldn't stay still, her body vibrating with emotion after hearing him recount the story; withholding tears became almost impossible. "It's funny in that, like, tragic way-" she hiccupped. "Fuck. It's been two years, I shouldn't feel like this."
He rolled them onto their sides so he could hold her more snug against himself. With a gentle finger crooked beneath her chin he encouraged her to look at him. "Nyla, it does not matter when it happened. You do not have to legitimize your feelings to anyone, there is no time-table for when one should be done healing. You know this. Those were your words to me. "
Her nose began to tickle with impending tears. "I don't want to feel this anymore."
"Feel what?" He challenged her, moving his hand from her chin to stroke her hair.
Staring into soft, golden-brown eyes for a long moment, she considered the question, faces of everyone loved and lost flashed before her eyes and it all came crashing down on her. "This," she whimpered, only feeling it more keenly when Zevran nodded as if he understood the storm brewing within her.
Feeling into her body, hot and vibrating, temples throbbing and chest aching, Nyla whispered absently, "It feels like my heart is constricted. Wrapped in chains."
"So break them." Zevran whispered, resting his forehead against hers as her breath grew erratic, and she began to cry. "Yes. Like that."
With Zevran's earnest encouragement, all the weight she had been carrying seemed to fall away; the relief, a sense of freedom washed over her and Nyla wept, overwhelmed by sweetness and gratitude. It wasn't hard, it didn't hurt, it felt graceful and easy and the impulse to apologize never arose. Lips pressed against her lips, her cheeks, along her forehead; relentless, gentle kisses all over her face and neck reminding her of love as she let herself purge.
"Kissing it better." He whispered when she giggled through her tears. "It seems to be working."
With a nod, she let go a little more. "I miss them still. My mom and dad. The mandatory Sunday family brunches and holiday gatherings. My nephew and his obsession with deadly weapons, Oriana and her incessant singing. My brother, and his doting and over-protection. The sweet familiarity and comfort of being close to Alistair, the sense of peace he carried and spread wherever he went. I wasn't ready."
Relentless kissing ceased and he meet her eyes with a serious gaze."No one could ever prepare for something like that."
"The gratitude is confusing." Moving her hand from where it rested on his chest, she cupped his cheek. "If I hadn't lost everything, I would never have met you."
"Same," he whispered, and she kissed him. She didn't stop kissing him, and she balled her fists in his shirt, pulling, guiding him on top of her.
Uh oh, Zevran thought as things became more heated and she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his shorts. Familiar with the nuances of body language, especially when it came to sex and when someone was an open invitation, he slowed things down.
Gently grabbing her hands from where they tugged at his waistband, he kissed them hugging her close; kisses on her forehead, gentle kisses on her lips, Zevran offered much needed affection without crossing their carefully constructed boundaries. It would be a shame for their first time to occur because she had made a hasty decision under emotional duress; it wasn't right, no matter how badly he wanted it with her. Holding her tight, he pulled the blankets snug around them so they lay together in a plush cocoon; within moments he could hear the steady rhythm of her breath, sound asleep.