Stone steps, shivering through skin, hair standing on end. Through the door, a thought - is the timing right? Does it matter? Will he - will I - relent and release, rigid and rough but... ready.
She waits.
But for what?
Door slides open, heart standing still, standing in silk, streaming - a dress, draped and dragging, dripping down. Water on a rock, slipping and sliding. I want to look, but I… can't. Probing, prodding, pressure rising. Water in a dam, pressing, plugging, pushing it down. No relief, no release, not ready. Not right. A heady scent, heavy - smelling of cinnamon, Andraste's Grace, and something else, something strange; a candle in the corner.
"It's lavender," she says, smiles. Lavender like her dress, her eyes, lightning in her hands, shaking soundly on both sides. "Do you know why I invited you here, Cole?"
"I - " Voice shudders, scared, startles into silence. What do I say? Will it be right? So close, but brittle, ready to break or bend. "Yes," I say.
"I want to know you want this, Cole," Lavellan says, hands holding hips. "If this is too much for you… well, we don't have to do anything you don't want."
"Yes," I say, "you wouldn't like that."
"No, I wouldn't." She sighs, sits. "So, Cole - what do you want?"
"I want you," I say, "but… more. It's hard - thoughts too narrow, needy, needing, but…"
"But?"
"I… love you. I want it to be right."
Lavellan looks, eyes wide, wondering, wandering, waiting for the wanting. I feel her fretting, face frowning, heart hammering, heavy. "Cole, I - "
"I know it's wrong," I say. "You want lightning, longing, loving and then leaving - feelings unfounded, forgotten, but that's not me. Two pieces apart, weathered and weary, crooked and cracked. It could be better, but it's what I want."
Tears stream down her face, strings snag - she is sad, but she has to be. Sometimes, helping hurts more.
Small, shrinking, shaken - "Will you stay?" she asks, tongue thick in her throat. "Just for a little while. I - " Frozen, afraid - swallowing, spitting me out, spinning, spiralling down. Crushing, crippling, walls closing in. "I don't want to be alone."
"You aren't alone," I say, sitting, stroking silk down her spine, small of her back. Tears trickle, staining shirts - she's pretty when she cries, when she shows the soft, scared pieces, the ones she wants to forget.
Gentle. Arms enveloping, insistent, and she presses against me, warmth in cold places. She is softer, smoother, showing and shimmering, thawing through the blood and bone. Laying back, sheets smelling of honey, swimming in silence, suspended- so much to say, but staying soundless, still. Emptiness, absence of air, but feeling full. Breathing heavy, hot against my face - shaking and slow. It's different now - fighting through a fog, feelings fraying, forgotten. Why did I want to stop? Blood burning, blistering, burrowing down and out and through. It's familiar, foreign, an itching underneath and the instinct to scratch, to relieve - the rush and release.
I want to fight it, to forget, to flee from the feeling, but not tonight.
Tonight, I want her.
Note: the "Rated T" curtains close here, but if you want to keep reading, I made a separate one-shot with the fun stuff, so feel free to check it out! Next chapter is the last chapter, guys. As always, thanks for reading!