He's got some self-worth issues, [ she explains, shrugging. ] Which is definitely his problem, not ours, but I'm too stubborn to let that fly. He tried to give up on me once already and I threw anything I could grab from his desk until he relented and told me what was wrong.
You can't have issues over something you don't have at all. [Colin shrugs, clearly at a low-simmering anger rather than a sharp hurt.] I can't do what you did. Not about this. It's up to him.
[And that's the end of that.]
Anything you need to make yourself comfortable tonight? I know you've got a clean nightshirt here.
Things about my life. Who my first patient was, how I got into healing, what my life at sea was like. Why I have a flat outside the Gallows. Things like that.
What was your life at sea like? [ A little cheeky, because she is being trained by Baz, after all. ] Mine was brief and spent either chumming the waters or drunk below.
[ It doesn't take long for Athessa to gobble up her slice of bread and migrate out onto the balcony, where they take up their usual spots on the chairs with wine or tea and the option of elfroot balanced on a decorative plate.
Athessa lays as she does on the deck chair, upside down with her hands folded behind her head, and gazes at the stars. A shooting star leaves a trail across the darkness. ]
[It's a beautiful sight, probably only visible because of the direction of the wind. Colin sighs out elfroot smoke, feeling somewhat more invincible than usual.]
Scary, at first. [ She puffs out a few smoke rings, watching them drift up, up, and away. ] When I was scouting it out, and when we hadn't gone inside yet. Once we walked in, you could feel how empty it was. You know how sometimes you can walk into an old place and just...get a sense of...something?
Well, his place didn't have that. No sense of anything, no presence, no...life. It was just empty rooms and empty chairs at empty tables, and a blood stain on his bed.
And wrecking his shit felt good. Felt right.
[ And it made her wonder: what would killing him herself have felt like? ]
Do you ever think about going after Lutair, now that he's not protected?
I did think about it. Julius pointed out if anything happened to him, the Chantry would blame me, so... And I don’t have a place I can tear apart. Kinloch Hold didn’t fall down during Uldred’s rebellion, I sure can’t bring it down. Hasn’t stopped me thinking what might make me feel something like it, though.
What I’ve started thinking is...I’ve built my own house. In my head. If he’s really on his own, Lutair’s only home is something I’ve made for him in my mind. I’ve put up defenses to contain the problem and protect myself.
[He does take her hand, but he also takes something from his pocket--a small quartz cluster he picked up at the market at Sister Sara's suggestion. His thumb begins to worry at the longest point.]
I... [It's been about ten years since all this ended, and still the air in Colin's lungs becomes heavy.] I remember him coming to meet me in the hallway when I was with my friends. He made some excuse to get me away from them, and we just...talked. He was sad and lonely and needed a friend. I think he must have had a bit of a reputation, because after a while of him doing that, my friends avoided me. So the only friend I had was him. He started touching my arms, then my face. Worked up to spitting in my mouth. It tasted sour.
Then one day, he asked me to go with him to the storage rooms. They were very secluded, and if you could get in there...I knew what he wanted from me. I said no. He stopped pretending to be my friend. He looked so angry, and just...when a Templar silences you with his abilities, it feels like you can't breathe. He dragged me into the storage rooms and threw me against the wall so hard I found blood in my hair later. I don't remember...the next thing I remember is being on my knees. He told me if I told anyone what happened, he'd cut me and say I was a blood mage. My mouth and throat were sore, my face was sticky, and it tasted sour.
Most of my memories of it are like that. [He wipes tears from his eyes with a sleeve.] Sometimes I get flashes of the rest of it, like my mind is putting a puzzle together. If he bruised me or made me bleed, he made me heal myself. Sometimes he said he'd kill me even when I was being good. Called me names. Said...
[he struggles, more tears springing up. his thumb on the quartz becomes frantic.]
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I don't know if Byerly makes up with anyone. He just. Gives up at the first bump in the road.
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He's got some self-worth issues, [ she explains, shrugging. ] Which is definitely his problem, not ours, but I'm too stubborn to let that fly. He tried to give up on me once already and I threw anything I could grab from his desk until he relented and told me what was wrong.
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[And that's the end of that.]
Anything you need to make yourself comfortable tonight? I know you've got a clean nightshirt here.
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You're right, it is up to him. I told him as much tonight.
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You're perfect. You know that?
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[ But she hooks her free arm around him and gives him a reassuring pat on the back. ]
You okay?
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I talked to Bastien. He's got me painting the dining hall with Ben now. He...asks a lot of questions.
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What was your life at sea like? [ A little cheeky, because she is being trained by Baz, after all. ] Mine was brief and spent either chumming the waters or drunk below.
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Colin sighs.]
Spending four years doing ciphering in a floating barrel I can't get off of.
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Do you wanna hang out on the balcony tonight? You can say no. I wanna do what you wanna do. Even if that's just...sitting quietly or turning in.
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[He thinks about it for a bit, before letting out a breath.]
Let's sit outside.
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[ It doesn't take long for Athessa to gobble up her slice of bread and migrate out onto the balcony, where they take up their usual spots on the chairs with wine or tea and the option of elfroot balanced on a decorative plate.
Athessa lays as she does on the deck chair, upside down with her hands folded behind her head, and gazes at the stars. A shooting star leaves a trail across the darkness. ]
Pretty...
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What was it like, tearing up Devigny's house?
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And wrecking his shit felt good. Felt right.
[ And it made her wonder: what would killing him herself have felt like? ]
Do you ever think about going after Lutair, now that he's not protected?
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I did think about it. Julius pointed out if anything happened to him, the Chantry would blame me, so... And I don’t have a place I can tear apart. Kinloch Hold didn’t fall down during Uldred’s rebellion, I sure can’t bring it down. Hasn’t stopped me thinking what might make me feel something like it, though.
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There's plenty more to smash at Devigny's, if you wanna let loose sometime. Nobody's moved in, or seems to care, really.
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What I’ve started thinking is...I’ve built my own house. In my head. If he’s really on his own, Lutair’s only home is something I’ve made for him in my mind. I’ve put up defenses to contain the problem and protect myself.
[a long pause.]
Will it upset you if I talk about what he did?
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Only on your behalf, and that it happened to you.
[ She sits upright and extends her hand over the arm rest of her chair, in case he wants it to hold. ]
tw: sexual abuse
I... [It's been about ten years since all this ended, and still the air in Colin's lungs becomes heavy.] I remember him coming to meet me in the hallway when I was with my friends. He made some excuse to get me away from them, and we just...talked. He was sad and lonely and needed a friend. I think he must have had a bit of a reputation, because after a while of him doing that, my friends avoided me. So the only friend I had was him. He started touching my arms, then my face. Worked up to spitting in my mouth. It tasted sour.
Then one day, he asked me to go with him to the storage rooms. They were very secluded, and if you could get in there...I knew what he wanted from me. I said no. He stopped pretending to be my friend. He looked so angry, and just...when a Templar silences you with his abilities, it feels like you can't breathe. He dragged me into the storage rooms and threw me against the wall so hard I found blood in my hair later. I don't remember...the next thing I remember is being on my knees. He told me if I told anyone what happened, he'd cut me and say I was a blood mage. My mouth and throat were sore, my face was sticky, and it tasted sour.
Most of my memories of it are like that. [He wipes tears from his eyes with a sleeve.] Sometimes I get flashes of the rest of it, like my mind is putting a puzzle together. If he bruised me or made me bleed, he made me heal myself. Sometimes he said he'd kill me even when I was being good. Called me names. Said...
[he struggles, more tears springing up. his thumb on the quartz becomes frantic.]
He said...
tw: sexual abuse, cont.
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
i think we can just assume a general cw now
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