killedwithlove | PSL: For kremdelacreme

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PSL: For kremdelacreme

Following this.

Cole had things to do during the night. There were nightmares to be soothed and dark spots to be softly lit. He banked the fires that needed tending and borrowed a cloak from Blackwall to tuck in a cold halla in his stall.

He went back to Krem's room for a little while, watching him sleep before slipping off to beg some food from the kitchens. The bread was softest and warmest from the ovens and he managed to convince the cook to give him a couple of fresh rolls with some butter and fruit preserve with the freshly arrived milk.

A brief detour to Cullen's room to make sure there was poppy juice and fresh, cool water when he came to and he headed off again.

He brought it all back to Krem's room and sat down on the chest in there to wait for Krem to wake up. He wasn't in a rush, Krem was peaceful asleep, it was nice to enjoy some quiet and the soft sounds of the castle waking.

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Krem briefly leaned toward Cole's voice, nudging him with his elbow gently.

"I don't think any of us understand the Qun, but the way Bull talks about it, it sounds like something for when people want to relinquish all of their control and most of their autonomy, not have to think for themselves for a while. The way they do it is strange. Brainwashing, emotional manipulation. I can't abide it, personally," he sighed, looking up from the tankard he'd been sipping from and ducking back under Cole's hat so that it wouldn't nudge his head whenever Cole moved.

"You still smell like nug, by the way."

"That's what I don't understand. Why you wouldn't want to be an individual. Even spirits are different. Compassion is not always the same Compassion. Rage is angry for different reasons."

And there was a lot of Rage around the Qun. "You should never force people to be something just for you. I don't like that they hurt people to make them behave. I don't like it from the Chantry, either."

He leaned against the wall, so his hat stayed out of the way, over Krem. "Do I?"

"Not everyone cherishes their individuality. Some people've had so much bad happen in their lives they think that relinquishing that control to someone else will make the pain stop. But when they realize how it'll be done, they get angry, they fight back, because it's in their nature. That's when the brainwashing starts, because you don't just voluntarily leave the Qun. They don't allow it, not without labeling someone a traitor. Tal-Vashoth, that's what Bull called it."

Krem took a moment to finish the last of his drink, then put the tankard aside on the top of a barrel. He shook his head, pulling some at his gauntlets. "I've seen enough pain in my life. Made a lot of friends who were slaves under masters that would hurt them for making a simple mistake. I hated it. I'd never do that. The Chantry, they hurt people with words, strip them of rights and credibility. In some ways, they're just like the Qunari."

"You're not very good at washing, are you?"

Cole understood these things. But some part of him would never embrace it, not emotionally accept it.

Mortals made life so difficult for themselves, for each other, it didn't make sense to him. They wanted to hurt each other and he didn't understand that either.

"Dorian says I'm terrible at washing," Cole agreed, glad to not linger on the hurts and pains.

"Next time, try scrubbing as well. Even if the water's cold, it'll help. If you manage to find soap, even better. Surely Dorian will lend you some." After all, someone that smelled like dog, and then dumped water over themselves in the hopes of washing, just ended up smelling like wet dog.

"If you can see marks, scrub them. With a cloth, or just your hand if you don't have anything clean enough."

Of course, being taught how to clean up by a mage when you were a close combat fighter wasn't as helpful as it might seem.

"I can find soap. I have some, I found it after the laundry workers were done."

"Sometimes the smelly bits don't have marks so you don't think to scrub them." Krem shrugged. He didn't care either way if the smelly parts also had marks or not, he just bathed as quickly as he could manage most times. Another one of those thoughts that he didn't like to dwell on.

"I'd also advise warm water. Get a pot and warm it over a fire until it's just starting to steam. Trust me, it works wonders."

"There's pools of hot water under Skyhold," Cole commented. "I found them when I went exploring, and Solas said they were hot springs, produced by the... the... heat vents of the mountain?"

Something like that.

Krem nodded at that. "That makes sense. Never really explored far in this place myself, but the mountains are full of steam vents and natural springs. Makes sense to build the keep over one."

"KREM." Bull's voice rose over the rest in the tavern, drawing his immediate attention. When The Iron Bull yelled for anyone like that, it was impossible to ignore. Giving Cole an apologetic look, he immediately went to his commander to see just what was going on. He was dragged out shortly after that, without time to let Cole know he'd be leaving.

It was maybe an hour later when the Inquisitor blew through to round up his team, and the Chargers, plus two elves and a mage, set out on their trek to the Storm Coast. It would be at least four days two and from, and the mission itself would take at least a day once they were there. There would be no word until the alliance was secured or denied.

Krem left and Cole realised he wouldn't have a chance to come back and say goodbye. He gave a small wave as Krem left and trusted The Iron Bull to look after them all, and the Inquisitor to keep things running smoothly.

Whatever was happening, he wasn't taken along. He accepted it quietly and instead went to talk to Solas.

Cole could fill the time until Krem got back. There was a lot to do. There was always a lot to do.

There was so much to do around the hold, Cole was bound to have a great deal to do over the time that they were gone. The Inquisitor's party was the first to return, looking worn out and bruised up, but otherwise no worse for wear. The Iron Bull looked disgruntled, standing quietly at the Inquisitor's side before returning to the Herald's Rest.

The Chargers' return was later in the day, getting on toward sunset, and all of them were either limping or holding themselves up on their weapons. They'd had a hell of a mission, and most of them looked satisfied with the way things had turned out. Krem was no exception, though he was favoring one of his sides, the end of his maul being used as a crutch. Part of his chestplate was dented inward but he'd refused to take it off. He stopped over near where he'd seen Bull and the Inquisitor talking, before making his way up through the tavern and straight to his quarters. He paused at the door at the top to see if Cole was standing amid his belongings, before heading out again. He was tired enough to lay on his face and sleep in his leathers.

When the Inquisitor returned, Cole was at the gate waiting. He didn't speak, just took in the feelings, memories, impressions, pains.

He felt Krem's pain in The Iron Bull's worry, the way his ribs ached as he breathed and the breastplate dug in but cradled at the same time. There were flickers of the deeper wounds, the way his chest felt too big in the wrong ways, the frustration of the leather vest under the armour, but those weren't worse than usual.

When they came up the path, Cole wanted to be there, but he had to be on the rafters at that moment, waiting for the injured bat to show itself so he could catch it and untangle the string from it.

Which was why he turned up in Krem's quarters through the window with a bat clinging to the front of his shirt. He was quiet and unexpected, but he spoke nearly immediately. "You'll regret sleeping without undressing and having your ribs bound, but it feels like my body's made of lead. Do you want me to go get a healer?"

Krem jumped; he couldn't help but, after the beating he'd taken. His lip was split and there was a gash in one of his arms that had been bandaged, still needing to be tended to by a healer, but first and foremost all Krem wanted was to rest. He had been sitting on the edge of his bed, moving gingerly to remove his armor but leaving his chestplate in place. He sighed at Cole and fell back, immediately regretting the decision and giving a quiet groan then fumbling for the buckles holding his chestplate on.

"I'll fine, give me a moment," he muttered, grimacing as he sat back up and started to twist in place to be able to pull the armor off, finally letting it clang on the stones before flopping right back over, still in his leathers and mail. The dent in his chestplate would need to be hammered out before he could wear it again.

He finally registered the tiny mammal clinging to Cole, and he could only lift an eyebrow. "I see you've made a friend."

Cole slid from the window down to the bed's headboard and then to the bed itself in a boneless, sort of graceful movement.

"You're not fine. Or you'd strip off your armour and everything else before getting in bed. It hurts."

His finger stroked down the bat's back and it clambered a bit higher on him. "He was tangled in some horsehair strings. He's resting before I take him out to the parapets. And I'm making it all hurt less, so he can fly properly. Do you want me to make you hurt less?"

He reached out, didn't touch, but he did reach out. "Or I could take you to the hot springs. Solas said they're called hot springs."

"Well, as long as he's getting better," Krem murmured, rubbing his hand down his face and yawning widely.

At the offer, he looked back at Cole, and the hand offered to him. "I'm curious now, since you talk to Solas so much. Have you said anything about me?" He didn't want the elf to take him aside and lecture him about things to do with Cole without ample time to prepare for it. He took the hand and hauled himself upright, free arm immediately wrapping around as his ribs gave a nasty throb.

"He is."

Cole counter balanced to let Krem pull himself up, winced at the throb of pain and reached, touching the same spot that Krem did, focusing on the hurt.

He couldn't make it heal. It was probably a bit too big for him to heal. But he could make it hurt less, drain off the pain by sharing the experience with Krem. Under his hat, there was a almost a soft light form his eyes, pale white yellow, and the pain started to ebb away.

"No. Why would I?"

Krem stiffened as Cole reached for his side; one of the ribs was cracked, the one that was directly under the dent in his chestplate. As soon as the pain started to drain away, he slouched just a bit, murmuring his thanks then scooping the bat off of Cole's shirt, letting it hang from his fingers then huddle in his palm.

"Because you two get on well and at some point he'll come to talk to me at length about things involving you, I've no doubt."

Cole kept his hand there, gaze slightly distant as he worked on draining off the pain from all over. The lip ached, so he willed it to close over, trying to actually heal it.

"He's protective," Cole absently. He refocused on Krem, unable to do more without actually seeing and feeling the injuries. "You still shouldn't sleep in that. It'll make it worse."

"He'll have to learn eventually that a man shouldn't be coddled, no matter his origin."

His tongue passed over his lip when he felt the skin knitting together, a mild itch there after it was done. He laid his free hand over Cole's and lowered it away from his side, looking up at him with a stern little frown. "Don't worry about it. I'll see Stitches in the morning, when we've all had a chance to rest."

"He doesn't trust mortals with spirits. Especially not after what happened to me when I came through." He understood that Solas worried for him, because he felt Cole was alone and abandoned in this world.

Cole let his hand be guided away, but he wanted to keep helping, rocking forward and then back again. "I will worry. I know how much it hurts. I know what you know about it. I can feel it."

"In other words, he wouldn't trust me far as he could throw me." Krem snorted, rolling his eyes and settling back down on the edge of his bed. He refrained from crossing his arms to keep from aggravating his wounds, but everything about his stance was stubborn and grumpy.

"Look. I know you want to help- have to help- but all I want right now is to rest." And he couldn't do that very well when he was upright and Cole was determined to touch and feel and help him.

"He wouldn't throw you at all. You're too heavy, especially in all that armour." He took the bat back with gentle fingers, coaxing it up onto his own chest.

"If I leave, will you take off your vest before you sleep?" It genuinely worried him, he knew it would interfere with Krem's ability to breathe, even more than the damaged rib was already.

Krem's grimace made it obvious enough to tell that he probably wouldn't. He couldn't convincingly lie to Cole though, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he stuck his tongue out over Solas. "That was the point. He can't throw me, and he's even less likely to trust me. Especially not with you."

"He doesn't really trust most people with me. But he knows I can tell if anyone wants to cause hurt or harm. Even to me."

He rocked on his feet. "Please? Look after yourself? I won't touch you, or look, but I need you to look after your hurts, if you won't let me. Please?"

I just don't want him interfering with me and my affairs, he thought, a small pout on his face.

"Wouldn't've lived this long if I didn't know how to take care of myself. If you want to stay, you're welcome to. Just...don't fuss, alright? Hell, if I follow you to that hot spring you're still not allowed to fuss."

PSL: For kremdelacreme

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