#threads | bushelofmuses (cole)

[dcvium]

@bushelofmuses liked for a Veilguard Nim

The Lighthouse posed many questions. What if they fell off the side? Why did things float? Why weren't they floating? She really needed to stop trying to apply logic to the Fade. She did have one question that could be answered, though.

"What does it feel like?" Vague, Nimue. Very vague. "Being in the Fade again, I mean. But physically. It's... different than Adamant."

[orxna]

"I think it's time for you to take a break." -from Cole or Ameridan? @bushelofmuses

Workaholic Ask Memes || Accepting || @bushelofmuses ;Cole

Orana's fingers barely tremble at the comment, a brief pause before she releases a nearly full body shudder and returns to her careful seams. There is a sort of calmness that overtakes her when she sews, like she becomes the needle and thread, careful and steady even when her mind would otherwise be reeling. The herald can shut off the little part of her brain that frets over what she did to the wardens, over the fact that she chose Hawke not because it was tactically wise but because she couldn't lose another parent.

Mending is what she can do without anyone knowing--Or at least without anyone but Cole knowing it seems.

The pile beside her is made of garments carefully taken after the washerfolk had gone to bed. Orana has to finish them by the morning or else someone will know they're gone. The herald cannot be seen stealing laundry or else Josephine will be so very upset with her.

If her hands are busy though, she doesn't feel the pull of sleep and it's promised nightmares so strongly. If she falls into the gentle lull of one stitch flowing into another her mind numbs into something that she can pretend is soothing and not concerning.

Orana lies as she pulls a thread taught, tying it off and moving onto the next rip, "I only have a few more."

[dcvium]

Ego was something Nimue didn't have. In fact, she could probably actually use more ego. That would mean less self-hatred, though, and that likely wasn't happening soon. What trouble it was to be a monster...

"I think we'd figure it out. Start small, then grow. Maybe start with pasta or a rice dish. Something simple. Then we can get fancier and fancier." Some cookbooks told you the difficulty of the recipes. She made a note to find one of those. "We'll both be less terrible when working together. We can check each other's work. That whole 'two heads' thing."

She did catch his reaction, though. That little slump (she'd notice anything that made him feel even slightly shorter, truthfully). "Fine, fine. You can get the tea. It will be a trade off. Gifts." There was a little pause as she thought for a moment. Did either of them know how to just... accept things? She would have protested, if he hadn't agreed to her getting him something. He seemed to want to protest being on the receiving end, too.

Something else for them both to learn.

It would be a team effort, he could certainly take the blame to protect her ego or something. He wouldn't mind.

"No, I would like to." Neither would improve if they didn't try...even if their efforts only caused problems. So long as they didn't set the building on fire, it would be fine. "It wouldn't be just you. I would be terrible too."

His smile shifted to something more genuine and less uncertain, and he tipped his head to hide it with his hat. Not that it would help with the height difference. She'd likely see it, he thought. Oh well, too late now.

Cole was glad that she was amenable to it, though. She needed something that made her happy too. Hadn't she been through enough? Wasn't it time to be a little more selfish?

Although, he had planned to get the tea for her, not for her to get something for him. That threw a kink in his plans, one he didn't know how to circumvent.

Cole would try and think of something.

He almost sagged in defeat at her question. Almost. Okay, yes, he wasn't going to get away with treating her without getting something in return, it seemed.

"Only if I can get the tea for you." There. Maybe a trade would be enough.

[dcvium]

She peered up at him--- very up. Why did he have to be so tall? Nimue could tell he was thinking, but she couldn't read it very well. Was he happy with the idea? Was it some kind of overstep? Her brows knit. "Only if you want to." There was no pressure. None. She needed to make that clear. "And no taking the blame for me if I screw up."

There was another little rumble in her throat as he seemed to stress the need for tea. "Mm, could go and check... she what kinds she has." That was assuming the herbalist was still in the same spot. Though, her home had seemed very stable and long-term.

"You should have tea, too. Or something nice." Cole seemed like the sort who wouldn't think about himself, at all, neglecting needs and wants for those of others. "You'll let me get you something?"

They could certainly try. What's the worst that could happen? They burn it and Lucanis takes over to try and fix their mess out of pity or disgust for whatever they'd botched up?

Cole thought they had a decent chance of success if they followed a recipe at least.

Hopefully.

If nothing else, they could make a soup. That's just throwing a bunch of things in and adding a little salt to it, at the very least. Maybe they had some stock around here that they would be able to use as a base...or wine. Or both.

"We could try it," he said slowly, then he tried to smile. "I will take the blame if it burns."

It didn't matter that the fight wasn't there. They could spare a day to get her some tea and comfort.

"But you do need tea," Cole argued.

[dcvium]

Perhaps it was both. Being caged and feeling seen were both things she didn't enjoy. Nimue already felt terrible enough knowing Cole must have heard her bloody thoughts during their time with the Inquisition--- or, at least, her self-loathing caused by them. They hadn't stopped, nor had she stopped hating them. It was a constant, something she'd accepted that there was no escape from.

But there could be good moments. Calm moments where it was just her, not her urges. Not the violence. Just... things like this? Calm, normal. No fight to it, no death.

Her lips tugged into a little smile. "I don't know how to make those." She'd mostly made do with a campfire. Cookies were not something you could make that way. Not that she'd found. But, they had a kitchen now. Stability, even in this place. Maybe stability was nice? She'd have to evaluate that option, if she survived this adventure. "Maybe we could figure out cooking things together."

At his comment about visiting, there was a little cock of her head. Her brows knit. "I... don't have a reason to be there. I'm not needed there. It's not where the fight is." Not entirely true. She'd heard from Cullen, Darkspawn were running wild in the South, overtaking the lands. "I don't really go where I'm not needed."

Was it feeling caged, or was it feeling exposed in the nothingness that bothered her? He couldn't quite tell, though he knew this place was wearing on her. He could understand. It was overwhelming to him. All at once too much and not enough.

He adjusted the hem of his shirt in thought and made a note of the cookbook comment as well. Perhaps he could try and get one for her? Either swipe it or buy one.

...he should probably buy it. Most that would sell them were not going to be ridiculously wealthy; it wouldn't be right.

Maybe it would bring her some semblance of peace or provide a distraction from this place and the stress of hunting the Evanuris. He knew all of them could use it.

"I could help with cookies." He smiled sheepishly. "It's...all I know how to make."

Cole had a personal interest in knowing how to make them.

He liked the Hinterlands. Warm and welcoming, despite its history. A broken place that had pieced itself back together again and again. The people there were fairly kind. He hadn't been there since their time in the Inquisition. As far as he and Varric could tell, Solas was never in the area; they had no reason to visit.

There should be a way through the Crossroads. Maybe the Caretaker knew which eluvian would lead them there.

"There's nothing stopping you from visiting."

[dcvium]

Warm and dim seemed like something Nimue favored. Like firelight on a cold night, perhaps. That was always a nice thought. The Fade was making her feel like a caged animal. She wanted out. She wanted wind and trees or cobbled city streets full of people. Anything except the deafening silent stillness that the Lighthouse provided. Was that how others felt? Could they feel it's gaping nothingness?

The little elf nodded. "I might find a book of recipes. Things to go with it. It's usually a festive drink for the winter, maybe some winter foods..." She wasn't usually the group cook, but she was willing to make an attempt! Maybe Lucanis or Bellara could keep an eye on her. Whatever she made, it had to be better than Harding's cooking.

Despite Cole's curiosity at the little sound she made, Nimue gave it no thought. Strange sounds came from her sometimes. Feral and not quite humanoid. It was just her. Maybe that's just what she was. It fit with some of her other quirks.

"Oh, she's in the Hinterlands! There's a foresty part. I'd like to go back to the Hinterlands." It was normal. Nicer than all the places she'd been stuck recently. Except perhaps Treviso. "She's a Chasind woman, I think. An herbalist."

Cinnamon was warm and dim; a little zip to startle but not overpowering. He liked the taste and sensation on his tongue.

"I would like to try it, if you do." It would be a good experience. He didn't eat or drink much before the Inquisition, or during either, really.

Cole vaguely remembered her making it once years ago, but he couldn't remember if he had it or not. Cole would be happy to, though; eating and drinking were an adventure he welcomed. Varric introduced him to many new things when they traveled, but there's always something else to experience and—

His head tilted to the side a hair at the sound, ears pricked to listen for more. Curiosity almost got the better of him when she did it, always curious. No. It'd be rude to point it out; he probably shouldn't. Cole didn't want to accidentally make her self-conscious or something.

If he could find the vendor, or she showed him, he could make sure she had a solid stash...not just when she had the time to get it for herself. Getting through the Crossroads would be...fine. Probably. So long as he didn't run into anything on his way through, he should be okay to go alone, right?

"We could go sometime to get you more, and for the others," he offered. Cole didn't need, or want, to voice his plan. If need be, he could use the excuse that he wanted some for himself...which would be a half-truth. "Where is she?"

[dcvium]

She would silently agree to disagree. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. It screamed at her. It was pushed back. Swallowed, just as always. There were happier topics than herself. Nimue welcomed those.

"Mm, cinnamon is nice, but I like it in wassail more. Maybe I'll make that for people. I'm good at that one. I had to get good at it, no one knew what it was." Truly, it wasn't terribly far off from hot apple cider, but there were more spices involved. She didn't cook much (the group didn't need to know how much raw meat she'd managed to consume in her time alone), but she could do some things and she could learn more.

She rumbled softly, animalistic and almost a considering purr sound. It was a sign she was thinking, mulling words. "I usually got little pre-made bags of it. I have heard of this tea vendor, though... I could look into what she uses for her herbal blends. Maybe we could get everyone to drink tea. Lucanis has a tea set, you know. I saw the Rook get him one." The Rook? Just Rook sounded weird. Both sounded weird. Rook was a bad name.

"It's the right word," he argued softly.

In his very humble opinion, she did deserve better memories. She'd more than earned them if nothing else. Nimue went through so much as the Inquisitor, and now she was here helping their new friends stop the Evanuris. Then there was the time in between, the time she spent working and helping where and when she could. A break would be good for her, too, he was sure.

He'd tried taking Solas both hot chocolate and coffee when he found out he hated tea. Solas was not a fan of the coffee...

But Cole had yet to have any. He'd heard of a few recipes but never had the means to make them. And purchasing things for himself was usually not at the forefront of his mind; there were others who needed the money he got from doing odd jobs since the Inquisition more than he did.

"I heard cinnamon and chili powder taste good in it too." Cole had yet to try anything with bite to it; he had to admit to being curious about such flavors.

He perked up at that and took note of her tastes—both to use himself when she needed it, and to pass on to Lucanis. Maybe the pair of them could stock up on it for her so she'd have something to relax with at the end of the day.

The vanilla would be a little expensive, but he thought it might be worth it.

"Does it need the beans or do you use the extract?"

[dcvium]

Warm, soft, yellow... She did like warm and soft things. She'd filled her little corner of the Lighthouse with pillows and blankets. A warm, comforting nest to curl up in. That wasn't what Cole meant, though, and she knew it. He meant a replacement for the red. The blood-slick and gore-stain of whatever her time before the Inquisition had been. Nimue's memories hadn't returned, but that redness never left her. She tried not to think on it. The Inquisition, whatever troubles it brought, was better. Even the dark corners of the Fade were better to dwell on, they weren't her.

"'Deserve' is an interesting word." There was no further explanation on that, but it likely wasn't hard to noted that she didn't think the word applied to her. The Inquisition had needed her hand, it bore the mark, she gave that. Now it was gone and she wasn't needed. That was all.

Still, a little smile formed at his admission about the sugar. "You should have him make you cioccolata calda. Which, I think, is just fancy Antivan speak for 'hot cocoa'. We could sneak some sweet peppermint into it. I bet Lucanis has never had that!" And peppermint was good in hot cocoa, so it would certainly be good in cioccolata calda. Chocolate wasn't one of the things Cole had mentioned, but it was sweet and warm.

"Those teas sound good. I like... honey and chamomile. And a little vanilla in it. It feels peaceful." She didn't treat herself to such things too often. There was never any availability on the road. And that was where she dwelt most often. "I mostly like sweets, I think."

Fair enough.

He wondered if she had made happier memories for herself between the end of their time with the Inquisition and now. It had been so long...and he had been off on his own hunt; he had little idea what she had been up to. Was she happier without that weight?

"You need new memories. Warm ones with a soft, yellow haze over them when you think about them." Something better to dwell on late at night or in the silence of solitude. Happier memories than just the doom and gloom of their time in the Inquisition. Not that there weren't good memories—he was sure she looked back on some parts of it with at least a little fondness, but life was stressful and dark back then.

And now it was again.

"You deserve good ones."

He blinked and looked at the cup, then back to her, eyes owlish. She had a point.

"...it has six sugar cubes," he admitted, mumbling the admission.

And it could maybe use another. He didn't like the bitterness, but the caffeine, he'd found, produced an interesting sensation in the back of his mind. It buzzed and invigorated him. He...didn't know if that was a good thing or not; Cole tried not to think too hard on the effect this had on him. His toes were already wiggling in his shoes to burn off the energy.

That, and coffee made Lucanis smile. So Cole would ask to share to get a smile out of him and watch as some of the tension left Lucanis. It helped.

It's the whole reason Cole started drinking it, although it was an acquired taste for sure.

He preferred sweet things—a little too much, but he didn't mind any judgment for his sweet tooth. "I do like floral and white teas...soft, sweet but simple and airy. White tea with dried strawberries is my favorite...lavender is also good."

[dcvium]

It felt strange for her, as someone unconnected to magic, but it wasn't so much. Nimue had plenty, already, that was too much. Her senses did feel wrong here, though. Scent and sound. There was an absence of it. No birdsong, no wind. The smell, or lack of, was exceptionally bothering. She could focus on the scent of the coffee Cole held, that was something--- not as bitter as Lucanis' norm.

However, Cole was right about it having a beauty to it. At the question, her doe's gaze flicked back to him. "It left an impression... and I don't have many memories to go off of, you know?" Ten years worth, nothing more. Perhaps that was a good amount, but she wasn't certain. How much did people normally remember?

"I didn't take you for a coffee drinker. You seemed more tea, to me. Something sweet."

His first round in the Fade, physically, was panic-inducing. Compressed and closed in, air that was sour and hurt to breathe, mind being pulled and pushed at the same time. Back then, it was disorienting and painful. He blamed it on them being in the Nightmare's domain. It wasn't like "home."

This time was...a little more bearable. He had warning before he went into it and could mentally prepare himself for the onslaught of sensations. It was still overwhelming if he focused too much on their surroundings, but it wasn't painful here.

"The Nightmare demon made it hurt, made it unbearable. Can't breathe, can't think. Choking and clutching at nothing." He paused, fidgeting with the cup of too-sweet coffee he'd asked Lucanis for.

"This time it's...still a lot. Still overwhelming when I let it be, but...I can breathe here."

And rest. He doubted he'd ever be able to sleep in the Nightmare's home, but here, he was able to take a nap every now and then. Distracting himself with the others helped beat back the worry that he shouldn't be here, not in this form, anyway.

"And this place is beautiful." A little run down from age and disuse, but still lovely and warm. That helped.

"Why do you still think of that place?" It was not one of his fondest memories. Who would dwell on it willingly?