#[ anyways dorian cares a lot abt him and i just. wow. ]

[bornpariah-a]

@evirsor :  sit + after an exhaustive battle, cole helping dorian find somewhere to rest —— NONVERBAL ACTS ( accepting )

His temples pulse, an unpleasant thing ——— exhaustion pulls at him, every last inch of him, inexorable and unavoidable. The battle had been long and dragging and raging and he stands among the remaining CARNAGE, gaze cast about / unseeing and unthinking but the latter is a lie. He is never unthinking / always thinking too much too much too much.

There is blood in his mouth / Dorian is reasonably certain that it’s not his own.

It feels as though he’s flashing hot and cold, stuck somewhere in between. A fascinating side effect of his blend of pyromantic and necromantic magic, one that causes his skin to shiver, as though the full force of the sun above were pressing its way into his skin. The staff in his hands is heavy and he contemplates leaning his weight against it / decides not to, in the end. Instead he tips his head towards the sky and sighs : spirits of the recently departed swirling around him, their beacon of death.

Cole appears !! Or perhaps he had been there all along, Dorian is rarely able to tell and less willing to parse it out than he often would be. It’s rather difficult to say when it comes to him, besides. Cole could very well be everywhere or nowhere at once / present and not.

Still he appears at his side, at his elbow, peering at him and ——— speaking. Something Cole—like, though Dorian is distracted for a moment by someone else screaming in his ear. Rather inconvenient, that.

❝ ——— you’re hurting, ❞ is the tail end of Cole’s sentence, something that he would like to piece together before he considers asking him to repeat it and his headache increases ten fold. Ah, another time.

Hurting. Hurting. In what way? The physical / the metaphysical? FOR MOST it would be easy to assume on the surface, alone, Dorian does well at hiding the vast majority of his aches and pains and people are so often loathe to pry into business lest they end up with mess all over their shoes. But with Cole ( ... ) it’s far less easy to say.

you let it keep hurting, because you think hurting is who you are.

❝ I’m quite alright, Cole, ❞ he says with far more bluster than he feels, fingers curling and uncurling about his staff before he twists it / allows it to find its place upon his back, held secure and fastened. The world threatens to tilt for all that he remains upright, chest shuddering as he breathes. If only mana were endless / he had tried to figure out as much when he was a child, before accepting, after ample research and hours and months and years spent on the endeavor, that it was a frank impossibility.

❝ But you aren’t, ❞ he’s a rather insistent boy, though whether or not he could call Cole a BOY is rather up in the air ——— never mind how old he is, Dorian feels immensely ancient referring to someone as BOY. Particularly one who has begun to lead him by his elbow away from the bulk of the bloodshed.

❝ Physically I’m in peak condition, ❞ it’s a blatant lie considering that they are surrounded by carnage and he is clearly worn from the battle, but what is he without his bluster? He steps over a corpse, though perhaps they still yet live and are in the process of dying, he can’t quite tell with the chaos of the dead otherwise pressing around them. ❝ Are you alright, Cole? You’re looking rather peaky. ❞

Another spirit SHOUTS and Cole’s head tilts and / ah, that’s right, he should be able to hear them as well, shouldn’t he? The souls of the departed : fleeing this realm, scrabbling for the Veil, for the Fade beyond.

❝ It’s very loud, ❞ is what Cole says as they step towards their encampment and he / releases Dorian’s elbow, gesturing at a rather large crate. ❝ You should sit and rest. ❞

Always trying to help, isn’t he? Always trying to lend aid, to fix hurts, as if it were an instinct. As if there’s little else driving him. ❝ You’re sounding more and more like a nursemaid every day, ❞ a smile pulls at his mouth as he scrutinizes the crate that Cole has chosen. ❝ Very well, Cole, I will sit for now ——— but only if you take a seat, as well. This should fit both of us, I think. ❞

#evirsor #( ∞ ┈┈ inquisition ) WELL THERE'S A GIANT HOLE IN THE SKY AND A DRAGON OR TWO AROUND. #[ here we see me trying to write cole dialogue and failing miserably ] #[ i am so sorry lmao ] #[ anyways dorian cares a lot abt him and i just. wow. ]