“ change isn’t easy. ”
“it is strange,” cole murmurs, attention mindless in the way the leaves fall or the wind whispers, quieter now that his anger catches the tips of his hands, nowhere to go, or the pain stills in the ribbing of his bones, pieced within the marrow, “to remember.”
he turns back towards varric, the distance of his expression melting into twisted knots, tugging at his brows. cole’s hat falls heavy on the heart of his words. “thankful, yes, but surprised too. i keep realizing there’s … more. too much, sometimes, like when vivienne yells and i can feel the point of it still stick.” there’s a shine of color in cole’s eyes, the glass of a marble; impenetrable. “i don’t like that i don’t like her. i’m supposed to help.”
varric’s sigh is less long-agonizing than it is understanding, the lilt of his voice comforting enough to make the howling stop. “kid,” he says, the same way he always does, sure of himself as if the world made words for him, “change isn’t easy.”
cole pulls his lips together. “am i … changing?” his hand clutches the front of him, curled quickly in the shame of past hurts. “i want it … i hope it … is for the better.”
the silence ebbs enough for cole to startle at a warm hand, pressed supportively at the edge of his elbow, varric’s fingers landing tentatively on cole’s inner arm. words bubble up in him, try to find their way out, but all cole can feel is: bianca’s wood still in the firm grip of his hands, the shudder of air, and ‘it’s okay, i'm here with you’.
@tethrist