Chapter 8: Do You Ever Stop Thinking?

Summary:

After receiving a concussion during training, Ashkaari is told to relax for a week. Ashkaari receives a mischievous visitor while he recovers.

Notes:

If it is not apparent based on Chapter 1, this is a memory Bull has of his childhood friend, Vasaad.

Ashkaari put the book he was reading down beside him on the bed and massaged his forehead. His headache was coming back, pounding in his skull. It was better than the day before when he landed on his head on the training room floor after a failed attempt to roll after a trainer threw him during a sparring match. He'd immediately been sent to see a healer. A candle had been held up in front of him and he was asked to follow the flame with his blinking, dazed grey eyes. Not only had he failed at rolling properly during training, but he had also failed at following the candle properly with his eyes, so he had orders to relax and heal for a week in his dorm.

He was still living in the kid's dorms. During the first few years of training in a chosen path, Qunari children stayed with their childhood dorm to ease the transition to eventually living and working with the people who shared their path. But he was sixteen now. His days at the dorms were numbered.

Ashkaari would never say it, but it was a comfort to be at the dorms. Tama was there, and for the first day after his concussion, she stayed by his side and made sure he didn't fall asleep. She had kept him entertained with stories of her wards from the past, children that were now serving the Qun, and her laughter and smiles made him feel easy even when the room spun whenever he sat up to drink water, eat, or take care of other necessities.

On the second day, when he was cleared by the medic to sleep, she had given him her special tea in a cup and a new book to read to pass the boredom, but it was hard to focus on the words anymore. Ashkaari could occasionally hear Tama walking quietly by his door in the hallways. Tama thought she was being sneaky and that he couldn't hear her hovering outside his door to check on him.

The dormitory was five stories tall, but it was no surprise when Ashkaari suddenly heard the telltale sound of someone scaling up the side of the stone building. Ashkaari picked up his mug from the side table and sipped his lukewarm tea as, bit by bit, his best friend and dormmate Tears agilely climbed over the railing built in front of the open window and rolled into the room. "You're never going to walk into a room normally ever, will you?" Ashkaari asked with a smirk

Tears's teeth flashed in a mischievous grin and he stood up to his full height, which was much shorter than most horned Qunari his age, brushed off his light breeches, and untangled a long white micro braid from his curling horn. "Nope," Tears said, then Tears sauntered over to Ashkaari and plopped his slender ass on the bed beside Ashkaari.

"Aren't you supposed to be at training?" Ashkaari asked.

Tears shook his head. "Too hot. The trainers canceled."

Ashkaari raised his eyebrow at Tears. "And so you decided to climb up the side of a building in the blistering sun instead."

"Like I said. Training was canceled. Needed to put my energy somewhere."

"Right."

Tears's red eyes narrowed suspiciously at the book. "Are you reading, Kadan?" Tears asked.

"I was told to relax."

Tears scoffed. "Reading is not relaxing," Tears said, and he picked up the book and squinted at the Qunlat. "I still cannot read this," Tears muttered and set the book aside. The first language Tears had ever learned to read and speak was not Qunlat, but the Common Tongue, which was honestly a horrible name for a language a lot of people did not speak. Even in the Common Tongue, Tears had trouble reading. It was also the reason that Tears seemed to remember everything he heard. When one couldn't read well, one compensated with other skills, and Tears was a master at remembering conversations. "I get headaches from reading even when I'm not recovering from a head injury," Tears scolded. "Reading this is only going to give you a headache, Kadan."

"Too late," Ashkaari muttered and jabbed a thumb towards his head. "I already have one."

Tears looked at Ashkaari's forehead and the smug look on his face vanished. "Do you want a massage?" Tears asked in open concern. "I learned the other day that sometimes certain sensations can overcome other sensations, like massages overcoming pain so a patient doesn't feel pain anymore."

Ashkaari hesitated for only a moment. "All right," he said. "I'm willing to try anything right now to get rid of this headache."

Tears grinned and reached out his hands to Ashkaari's head, but then he frowned when he touched Ashkaari's jet black hair. "Well, this is part of the issue. You braided your hair much too tightly. It might be giving you a worse headache."

"They're not too tight," Ashkaari retorted.

Tears sighed explosively. "Kadan, I've had braids all my life. You just got them. I know what I'm talking about. Let me just . . . take care of it, all right?"

Ashkaari frowned and winced as his head throbbed. "All right," he muttered. "Take out the braids too."

Tears motioned for Ashkaari to turn around and Ashkaari turned, his back facing Tears, and felt immediate tension run up and down his spine. Ashkaari's trainers were successfully teaching him to hate having his back turned to anyone. It left him in a vulnerable position. Ben-Hassrath Trainers who walked into a room while a trainee's back was turned would step up behind them and deliver a tickle. At least, that's what used to happen when Ashkaari was 9. Now if his back was turned to a trainer, he'd get a finger jabbed harshly into the meat of his ribs. The bruise would last for weeks, and since no one wore shirts, it was an easily identifiable mark and most Ben-Hassrath snickered when they saw it on someone else.

It was a good training regimen though, perhaps too good if Ashkaari couldn't even trust Tears at his back. The warm spicy scent of Tears's sweat and the smell of his jasmine soap should have been soothing but were instead unnerving.

Tears leaned forward and whispered into Ashkaari's ear, "Kadan, do you ever stop thinking?"

Ashkaari smiled bitterly. "Never."

Tears shook his head and began to fluidly unravel all of Ashkaari's braids with quick, nimble fingers. The relief was immediate. Ashkaari closed his eyes and took in a breath as the splitting headache began to smooth away. Tears's fingers massaged deep into his jet black hair and rubbed soothing circles into his scalp. It was . . . nice. Ashkaari had never felt anything like it before. Tears massaged the bases of Ashkaari's horns, which were growing so long Ashkaari couldn't sleep on his side anymore. Tears' fingers gripped the base of the horns, pressing, moving back and forth over his skin, running his fingers firmly over his scalp. Ashkaari felt himself leaning back against Tears and he surrendered to the massage.

After minutes, but maybe an hour, for Ashkaari truly could not tell time anymore in the waves of pleasure on his scalp and head, Ashkaari's eyes blinked open. He was on his back on the bed and his head was resting in Tears's lap. Tears's warm, nimble hands were motionless on Ashkaari's head. Ashkaari stared at Tears's upside-down and worried face. "Was that all right?" Tears whispered uncertainly, as if afraid he would startle Ashkaari, or break something fragile despite how much bigger Ashkaari was compared to himself.

Ashkaari nodded. It felt like too much to say anything. Tears was right. The massage had overwhelmed the near-constant pain he'd been experiencing for two days. Ashkaari could feel it lingering, but most of it was far away. Then Ashkaari squeezed Tears's hand and smiled up at him.

Tears smiled back with relief and bent down so he could rest his forehead against Ashkaari's. They stayed like that for what felt like another hour as Ashkaari breathed deeply and kept his eyes closed.

He committed the smell of Tears and the warmth of his forehead against his own to his memories.