"There you are!" His voice rings through the little room, as cultured, clear and confident as the man following in it's wake. "What in the name of the Makers hairy arse cheeks are you doing down here in this abysmal little hole?" Strutting, nose high and wrinkling with disgust as he skirts round the dusty books and faded parchments, all sweeping robes and tailored leather, the flickering candlelight reflecting off his polished fastenings. He seems too much for this quiet place, too loud and bright.
"Well, I was trying to read, Dorian." The drawl of sarcasm comes through my voice and the corner of his mouth lifts at the tone. He loves this, I know. His face lights up at the prospect of an amusing and witty retort. Usually I would happily squander a whole evening trying to make him laugh...but not now. Not tonight. I...
"A second, oh please, just one. I'm drowning. Silent, sorrowing in solitude, sundered and slipping. I'm everything to everyone, yet not enough. For him...never enough. Why can I never be enough?" A soft voice mirrors the darkest shadows of my thought. Pale eyes bloom from the doorway. I can feel his longing to help me, to take away my pain. Poor Cole, he has enough, he doesn't need my burden too.
An exasperated sigh escapes Dorians lips. "Cole, I thought we agreed on subtly? You know...we talked about it on the way down here. I convince our dear leader to emerge from her little cavern of despair...(not that I don't love what you've done with the place my little pointy-eared poppet, the filth encrusted spiderwebs are particularly delightful) and you, Cole, were to try not to put the wind up her with you alliterate, rambling mind-******."
"Yes. Subtly. I like S'ses." If there was a spirit of innocence, it's form would be close to Cole's I think. "They slip, silky smooth and soft, sometimes silvery swirls sumptuous and scintillating or sometimes stuttering, stumbling, strange."
"Yes, strange. Lets leave it at that, shall we? Why don't you head up to the main hall Cole, ask one of the servants to put out some wine. Oh and cakes too, while you're at it."
"The little cakes?" Cole's face lights up. He doesn't eat but he love the little cakes. Or maybe he just reflects everyone else's love for them. Too much to think about right now.
"Yes, precisely. The smaller and sweeter the better." The words barely pass Dorians lips and Cole is gone. "Ah good, we're alone. He's been saying worrying things like that all night. Well I mean, more than he usually does anyway." Trying to perch on the least dirty edge of the table, Dorian eventually turns his attention to me, searching. I know what he's looking for, concern is etched in his face as deeply as the Vallaslin was on my own...once. "Actually, he's the reason I found you. Quite the little bloodhound for sniffing out...well...you know."
He leaves it hanging in the musty air. It's bait, an opening for me, he wants to help as much as Cole but he doesn't use subtlety because he likes the sound of it. A breath. A beat. I know I'm not ready. Not yet. Perhaps never. He's trying to look calm and patient, but I can see that he's coiling like a spring inside. It only takes a few more seconds of silence and suddenly he's on his feet, his hands flung out in sweeping gestures and his voice trumpeting with indignance.
"Fine, don't tell me! Keep it bottled up inside like a bitter Nevarran wine all you will. Though I will point out that I have divulged every heart-wrenching secret ever concealed behind this ravishing outer façade of mine. I thought that confidence would be returned at least." He's all bluster but underneath he's a little hurt. We've shared a lot together and become surprisingly close for it. More than I ever thought possible with a human, let alone with a Tevinter mage. Then again, such strange and unbelievable things have happened over the last few months that our growing friendship seems normal, almost mundane, by comparison.
"I'm sorry Dorian." All the wind suddenly seems blown out of his sails. He sighs and softly walks towards me, crouching down by my knees, his hands warm and gentle on my own as he slowly pries the book from me. I can't look at him now. Mockery, anger, insults, I could take them all without flinching, but compassion and pity are too much to bare.
"Come up stairs into the hall." he says as he eases me up from the chair. The book I was pretending to read falls to the ground with a loud thunk and a a billow of dust. I look at it for a moment, blinking back the tears. "Varric's the only one still there. He's worried about you too. Come up for a moment, even if it's only to warm your hands, you're as cold as death." I give him the shadow of and nod and he puts his strong arm through my own, taking much of the weight from me, like I'm some invalid he's helping to cross a road.
"There's a good little Herald." he says, patting my hand for added effect. His voice has started to shift back into it's usual sarcastic tone. I know he's doing it for my comfort as well as his own. "You know what you need? Apart from lots of wine and tiny cakes, I mean. You need a right good seeing to. Maybe from one of the guards. Hmmm, there is one and his hands...well, I'm sure I don't need to explain to you what a good set of hands can do. Or perhaps even our dashing Knight-Commander? He's always looking at you with those bedroom eyes...".
I turn to look back into the room one final time. It was a good little hiding place, if you ignored the spiders and dust. Plus he hadn't been there, as far as I could tell. It was nice, being somewhere that didn't remind me of him. Dorian lifts his free hand and with a simple gesture, a cool gust of wind brushes past us, sweeping the candle flames into smokey darkness and guiding the door to a creaking close. I turn back and he squeezes my arm.
"Now, where was I. Ah yes..." his voice reverberates off the stone walls. I can feel him smirking in the darkness beside me. "Cullen!"
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