@heshields asked: “touch on a falling tear - for dorian”
He’s sitting at the edge of his bed, feet bare touching the carpet. It’s been this way for a while, having returned from Redcliffe and telling the Inquisitor he needs some time. Alone. Blackwall had entered his room, asking, wondering why Dorian appears so somber.
My father was there. Waiting for me.
Silence, a hand on the small of his back. It’s comforting, in a sense, to know someone cares - even if this is new. Even if Dorian is uncertain of any future to be had, Blackwall is here, large and strong and so considerate it makes him sick; I don’t deserve this, he thinks, almost utters the self-deprecating words. “He tried to change me.” Dorian whispers, and leans against Blackwall’s shoulder, tears blemishing his fine features. A calloused pad of a finger on his cheek, wiping the tear away, soft and caring in a way one doesn’t expect a warrior like Blackwall to be.
“Please - I don’t, I don’t deserve any of this.” Dorian mutters, and a sob is there in his throat, panic in his chest, and it’s all too much. He breaks down, cries in the crook of his lover’s neck, and for once he allows himself to be held, for how long, he doesn’t know. It’s more than enough.