That was before. Now it's vivid, lights on strings on trees. Pulsing and pressing, pink skin flushed, twisting and turning and taut. So many people in one place - how do they know where to go? Bodies diffuse in and out - dancing, laughing. Charged air stimulating, scintillating, silk slick with sweat.

I try to find my friends, busy bees brightly buzzing. Everyone is proud. Varric entices, entertains, Vivienne stands above, the Left Hand smiles and stalks. Cullen is crowded, Blackwall talks to Josephine, and she laughs. Dorian and the Iron Bull disappear. And Lavellan is… Lavellan -

Lavellan looks up and gives me that look. She comes to the stone and sits on the stairs. "I would come up the battlements, but these heels are not very forgiving," she laughs.

"If they hurt you, why do you wear them?"

"It's a girl thing," she says. "You wouldn't understand. So, what are you doing up here? Don't you want to join the party?"

"There's a lot going on. It's better to watch," I say. She nods, understands. "Are you having fun?"

"You're asking me how I feel?" Lavellan smiles. It makes my heart hurt. "That's new."

"Varric said it was better to ask, so I don't scare people," I explain. Think. I remember the green shirt - bloodless, burnt, battered - but I want to try. Charm her, flatter her, but when? Dorian didn't say. But…

The air is right - words flutter, flicker on skin, intangible and inexact. Swells, swelters, sugary sweet. The words move through me. A puzzle, a particular pattern. A dance, but I don't know the steps. The first knot to untangle with shaking fingers in the dark.

"You're very pretty," I say, and she is - hair dark, untangled, caressing shoulders and shimmering silk, violet like her eyes, the lines on her face. Bright enough to cast shadows, but cold, stark - lightning in the night sky, distant and untouchable, but close enough to hurt.

She smiles. "Thank you. Vivienne introduced me to her tailor. Turns out she does have good taste, after all."

"It's not your dress. It's something more - a light, liquid lightning. Stars shining, candle in a window." My words were catching, hooked and heavy; Lavellan raises an eyebrow. I try again. "You… glow, Lavellan. Bright, brilliant, beautiful - better than beautiful. A thousand thoughts thundering, but the spirits crowd around the Veil to see the shadow of your face tonight."

Gears turning, a fleeting, fond feeling, fear fleeing as she looks, sitting still. "Cole," she says, waking wonder, "are you... flirting with me?"

I think, then say, "Yes."

Electricity electrifying and elevating, she frets, falters, fumbling - holds out her hand. "Well then, would you have this dance?"

"I don't know how to dance," I say.

"Come on," she laughs, takes my hand. Velvet shoes on the stairs, stumbling up the steps. "We can go to the battlements. That way, you and I don't have to risk being embarrassed." Laughter, breathless laughter, scurrying over snaggled stone, pushing past - up and over.

"Now, Cole, dancing is easy," Lavellan says, lightning licking skin. "Put your free hand on my my side- no, your other free hand; there's you've got it. Now, I'll put my hand here, on your shoul - are you ticklish, Cole? Stop squirming! Now, all we have to do is move."

"But how do I move?" I ask.

"It doesn't matter," she says. "No one is watching."

It's slow, stumbling, shy, but sincere, at first. But the form fades, less rigid - relaxed. Hands slide on silk, rest on ribs. Heat rises, a closeness - she had forgotten. Phantoms sewn into flesh, fighting to fly free, but she holds them so tightly. Secrets in a forest, forbidden, frantic feeling, feverish, following through.

I wasn't able to help before - it was harder to think, fanning flames. But I'm ready, now.

"You're thinking about him," I say. "Neralan."

"Yes," she gasps, head down, hearing my heart. A beat, then, "Can you see him, in my thoughts?"

"Yes - eyes like spring, hair dark - black or brown, you can't remember, like feeling through a fog."

"It's been a long time," she says. "Even then, I still miss him, even now."

"You miss him, but you don't. Burnt, afraid to feel, afraid to fly, to fall. You wish you wanted to forget, but the hurting is easier. Fear is your friend, familiar. It's… hard, to let go." Lavellan is quiet, heavy heart, but it's right. I can feel it. "Neralan is dead, Lavellan, but you don't have to be. You can be alive, living, light. Let love protect you - not pain."

Tears in her eyes, dead parts fall away - she is free. A hole, hollow, but better.

Now she can grow, too.