❤ for a non-specific kiss
Sharing a body was strange.
They were never really alone but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t feel lonely. Mahanon tended to be more positive than Cole. Compassion was a spirit that was pure but weighed down to heavily by other’s griefs and hurts. A white cloth stained black from use. It tinged him with a sad air and the others could tell it was him when he stole Maha’s breath and spoke. It was always present in his words, in the lilt of his voice. His song was a fine dance between hope and despair and it caught in the tangles as he desperately tried to tug his line free.
Mahanon was bright and hot next to him. His spirit shone brightly and it wasn’t just the mark that fueled him. The mark was distracting, a tinge of familiarity on his tongue. The fade touching all that they were yet distant, an echo from far away. No, Maha was his own fire of and he often bled good feelings more so than blood. It made Cole feel sleepy and delighted and he often allowed himself to melt when the other was in a good mood. To simply exist and live in the other’s happiness.
But there were times like this when the fire dimmed and all that was left were sad flames dancing in the cooling ashes. Times when Maha felt alone, and worn. Cole wasn’t sure how to help anymore now that they were a joined being. Their sense of togetherness was strange, hard to understand even from within. He couldn’t hug the elf, couldn’t hum a song in his ear that danced like the old dalish tunes.
Except he could in a fashion. He allowed his being to wrap around Maha’s like a warm embrace. Control was gently wrested from the Inquisitor so Cole could press gentle kisses to their arm and then their wrist. His free hand moved to cup the other, kisses pressed to the palm then the knuckles, each individual finger. Cole smiled against the skin of their hand, feeling the press of bone beneath. “You aren’t alone. I am here. I’m always here for you. Please don’t be sad. Please,”
