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.]
[ Athessa listens, and as he worries the quartz, she brushes her thumb over his knuckles.
Any number of the things he describes, she's familiar with. From Devigny, from the other girls at the Crimson Cat, from Ciara. She remembers the soreness. The stickiness. Bitter spit and sour words and blood and bile and bruises.
At his struggling, she shifts, moving from her chair to sit in front of him, keeping hold of his hand but limiting herself to just that touch in case touching his face would take him further into memory. ]
Colin, [ her voice is soft, and she looks him in the eye with a reassuring nod, though she can't help but reflect his tears. ] I'm here. You're alright, you're safe.
[He can't breathe. He leans forward to plant his free elbow on his knee and press his forehead against the fist bearing the quartz, his other hand squeezing Athessa's. When he can finally inhale again, he takes a few shaky breaths before continuing, voice thick. Safe. Athessa's right here. Safe.]
He said this was what I was made for. That it was natural. That he was the Maker's righteous sword and I was cursed. That the holiest thing I could ever do was to serve him.
[ Not was. Still is. Athessa presses his hand to her lips, then to her cheek as she leans forward to rest her temple against his. Though his words shake her in turn, she schools her breathing into something he can mimic, that he can focus on. In for four, hold. Out for eight. Twice more than Ciara taught her, because Richard taught her better. ]
He is evil, and wrong, and you did not deserve that. You weren't made for that. [ Because there is no Maker, is how her mind finishes that sentence, but it's not her place to say that now. ]
[He knows that, sort of. He knows he didn't deserve to be raped repeatedly and told he was going to die. He didn't deserve to have his ribs broken at Ghislain, either, but it's simply what happens when you're in an environment like that. Different choices might have led to a different outcome.
The rhythm of her breathing helps, and he echoes it. The painful knot in his throat eases, as does the weight in his lungs. Tears runs down his face, but they'll just be followed by more, so he doesn't wipe them away. When he can finally continue, he rests his head against hers, wrapping himself in the scent of her hair. She's real. They're both safe. It's 9:46.]
One time, he took me to a room in the mage quarters. They're more private, and this one was empty. Usually anything we did was quick, but this time, he pushed me down on the bed on my stomach. He held my head down and I could hardly breathe because of the bedding. He pushed my robes all the way up to my shoulders and...and he just... It's the most pain I've ever been in. He'd done it before, I don't remember how many times, but it wasn't his usual. And he took his time, like this was some sweet romantic moment. He kept breathing in my ear. Then the door opened.
It was another Templar. A man named...it doesn't matter. He started lecturing Lutair about how they were late to something. Picked up his trousers and threw them at him and said, "You can play with your toys later. We have to go."
And they left me there.
[His face burns from shame as it had on that day, though not as hotly.]
[ She doesn't wipe her own tears away, either. Barely registers that they're there, coursing over their fingers against her cheek, falling from her chin onto her legs or trickling down her neck. When the wind blows, it cools those slick trails and makes the air seem colder. ]
I'm so sorry that happened to you, Colin. Vhenan. [ There's no trace of pity in her voice, or on her face. With them temple to temple, practically cheek to cheek, he can surely feel the twitch of her brow, sense the set of her jaw. How she hates Lutair, and that other Templar. Maybe all Templars. ] If I could, I'd kill them for you. The way you killed Devigny for me in that nightmare. I'd keep you safe.
[ As if drawn to it by a magnet, she reaches out with her empty hand to touch his chest, knowing that those little stars are there beneath the fabric of his shirt. ]
[He knows what her hand is reaching for, and the reminder of it helps. The worst of the story is out now, and it feels like the wound is bleeding fresh now that the arrow has been pulled out. This is the most detail he's ever told anyone; though it's all haunted him all these years, it has only felt half-real because he's never spoken of it--except in public, before strangers, in a Fereldan court. Rather than being healing like this, it had only seemed to push the arrow in deeper.]
The other Templar testified against Lutair during the trial. Took him back to the Order and told them everything. He wrote me about the sentencing in a less-than-discreet way that outed my identity to the Chantry. I think he just wanted to do one thing to absolve himself so he could put it from his mind, but at least he turned up. When I started dealing lyrium to get the Templars to protect me, he was never one of the ones who did.
[ Part of her wants to ask his name, because if she knows that much, she knows enough to find him. Find him and look him in the eye and give him a reason to be such a coward. Athessa scoffs.
He could have done something. He could have stopped Lutair, could have stopped a lot of pain and suffering, but he didn't. Not even when he stood something to gain from it. ] I think you know everything I could have to say about self-serving cowards like that.
They're all taught to be loyal to each other. They're brothers. We're their charges, and sometimes their enemies. [His throat is getting sore. He takes a sip of wine to chase it away.]
So that's pretty much all I remember. It's a bit choppy in here, [he points to his head]. Sometimes I remember more. I'm not even sure how long it lasted. I think it was less than a year.
You'll probably find it kinda familiar, [ she smiles at him rubbing his face and reaches up to swipe some of the fresher tears away with her fingers. ] When I would run, he'd laugh and tell me that what he was going to do to me is all rabbits were good for. What I was made for.
[ She lets her hands rest on either side of his face, her thumb brushing over his cheek as she looks into his eyes. She wonders what they'd looked like, before everything that happened. Wonders what her own looked like. That was something the dreams got wrong, no matter what; there's no hiding this pain from someone else who knows it. She tips up her chin and kisses his forehead. ]
But it's over now. We're both safe, now. And we have each other, now. Even if we still carry it with us, it's not who we are.
[ He pulls her close, and she lays them both back against the rest of the chair, his legs extending past her feet and her head resting on his shoulder. Were he not slim, and she not so small, and neither of them comfortable enough with the other to lay this way, the chair wouldn't be able to hold them. Athessa puts her hand over the stars again, feeling his heartbeat through her palm. ]
You deserve the same, though I think we could deal with just being treated like people, huh.
When I was with Ciara...it took me a while to be okay with the idea of anybody touching me. Of having sex with anyone, even when I wanted to, because I thought...If I enjoy this, does that mean Devigny was right about me? If I become this, am I becoming what he made me?
Is there a chance there's still a part of you that that thinks you're proving Lutair right?
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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.
Any number of the things he describes, she's familiar with. From Devigny, from the other girls at the Crimson Cat, from Ciara. She remembers the soreness. The stickiness. Bitter spit and sour words and blood and bile and bruises.
At his struggling, she shifts, moving from her chair to sit in front of him, keeping hold of his hand but limiting herself to just that touch in case touching his face would take him further into memory. ]
Colin, [ her voice is soft, and she looks him in the eye with a reassuring nod, though she can't help but reflect his tears. ] I'm here. You're alright, you're safe.
What did he say?
tw: sexual and mental abuse
He said this was what I was made for. That it was natural. That he was the Maker's righteous sword and I was cursed. That the holiest thing I could ever do was to serve him.
tw: sexual and mental abuse
[ Not was. Still is. Athessa presses his hand to her lips, then to her cheek as she leans forward to rest her temple against his. Though his words shake her in turn, she schools her breathing into something he can mimic, that he can focus on. In for four, hold. Out for eight. Twice more than Ciara taught her, because Richard taught her better. ]
He is evil, and wrong, and you did not deserve that. You weren't made for that. [ Because there is no Maker, is how her mind finishes that sentence, but it's not her place to say that now. ]
tw: sexual and mental abuse
The rhythm of her breathing helps, and he echoes it. The painful knot in his throat eases, as does the weight in his lungs. Tears runs down his face, but they'll just be followed by more, so he doesn't wipe them away. When he can finally continue, he rests his head against hers, wrapping himself in the scent of her hair. She's real. They're both safe. It's 9:46.]
One time, he took me to a room in the mage quarters. They're more private, and this one was empty. Usually anything we did was quick, but this time, he pushed me down on the bed on my stomach. He held my head down and I could hardly breathe because of the bedding. He pushed my robes all the way up to my shoulders and...and he just... It's the most pain I've ever been in. He'd done it before, I don't remember how many times, but it wasn't his usual. And he took his time, like this was some sweet romantic moment. He kept breathing in my ear. Then the door opened.
It was another Templar. A man named...it doesn't matter. He started lecturing Lutair about how they were late to something. Picked up his trousers and threw them at him and said, "You can play with your toys later. We have to go."
And they left me there.
[His face burns from shame as it had on that day, though not as hotly.]
tw: sexual and mental abuse
I'm so sorry that happened to you, Colin. Vhenan. [ There's no trace of pity in her voice, or on her face. With them temple to temple, practically cheek to cheek, he can surely feel the twitch of her brow, sense the set of her jaw. How she hates Lutair, and that other Templar. Maybe all Templars. ] If I could, I'd kill them for you. The way you killed Devigny for me in that nightmare. I'd keep you safe.
[ As if drawn to it by a magnet, she reaches out with her empty hand to touch his chest, knowing that those little stars are there beneath the fabric of his shirt. ]
tw: sexual and mental abuse
The other Templar testified against Lutair during the trial. Took him back to the Order and told them everything. He wrote me about the sentencing in a less-than-discreet way that outed my identity to the Chantry. I think he just wanted to do one thing to absolve himself so he could put it from his mind, but at least he turned up. When I started dealing lyrium to get the Templars to protect me, he was never one of the ones who did.
tw: sexual and mental abuse
He could have done something. He could have stopped Lutair, could have stopped a lot of pain and suffering, but he didn't. Not even when he stood something to gain from it. ] I think you know everything I could have to say about self-serving cowards like that.
tw: sexual and mental abuse
So that's pretty much all I remember. It's a bit choppy in here, [he points to his head]. Sometimes I remember more. I'm not even sure how long it lasted. I think it was less than a year.
tw: sexual and mental abuse
[ He's seen how fragmented her memory of what happened became in the dream. Her actual memory is not much better. ]
Did I ever tell you what Devigny said to me, back then?
tw: sexual and mental abuse
tw: sexual and mental abuse
[ She lets her hands rest on either side of his face, her thumb brushing over his cheek as she looks into his eyes. She wonders what they'd looked like, before everything that happened. Wonders what her own looked like. That was something the dreams got wrong, no matter what; there's no hiding this pain from someone else who knows it. She tips up her chin and kisses his forehead. ]
But it's over now. We're both safe, now. And we have each other, now. Even if we still carry it with us, it's not who we are.
tw: sexual and mental abuse
You don't just...you don't just deserve not to be treated badly. [He swallows.] You deserve to be treated like royalty.
tw: sexual and mental abuse
You deserve the same, though I think we could deal with just being treated like people, huh.
tw: sexual and mental abuse
[He rests his cheek against her hair with a sigh, feeling exhausted.]
After sex, do you ever feel like you've done something bad? Something to be ashamed of.
i think we can just assume a general cw now
Sometimes. When I enjoy myself too much. [ She laughs, just one soft breath of it. ] Or when I fall asleep in their bed after.
Is that how you feel? Ashamed?
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And guilty, sort of. I'm not sure why. Like...a smaller degree from what I felt after he hurt me, but I just. Don't know.
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Is there a chance there's still a part of you that that thinks you're proving Lutair right?
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