There was a reason Zahra picked this specific place. Wholly related to the topic at hand, and obvious enough to her because sheâd been present when the particular event happened. A moment that still made her cheeks burn. Of course, sheâd left a little note, roughly folded in at the corners; shoved underneath Cyrusâs door for later discovery. It was better than huffing up the stairs and demanding to be let into his little laboratory. Besides, she wanted the sunâs kiss on her back and the wind ruffling her wild hair. It felt⊠far more comfortable than the stuffy insides of Skyhold.
At least sitting on the pier, sticking out like a knife into Skyholdâs resident lake, there was little chance of accidentally bumping into the subject at hand. How embarrassing would it be if sheâd joined them? Querying what they were talking about with that innocent face of hers. She would die, she was sure of it. Perhaps, sheâd even noted how she had been recently ducking away whenever she was near. Making herself scarce for reasons that made no sense to even her. It was childish, these tendencies of hers. Ones she had never thought herself capable.
It made her insides crawl. Furious at herself for not being the smooth-tongued freebooter sheâd always presented herself as.
Certainly not when she was concerned.
A soft sigh pushed past her lips as she tucked her bangs behind her ears. She deflated down against the piers wooden planks; a little too harshly. It bit into her shoulder blades. Uncomfortable. Just like she felt. She hoped, if anything, that this conversation would be enlightening. Cyrus had the habit of putting things into perspective, even when he didnât mean to. Itâs why sheâd been leaning on him so heavily as of late.
There were few and far in-between who she felt she ever could.
It took about another twenty minutes for Cyrus to show. As someone who rarely noticed things going on around him if he was really intent on something, that actually wasn't all that late. Perhaps he hadn't been too occupied when she delivered her note after all. His footsteps fell softly on the pier, the wood creaking only enough to alert her to his presence.
He was initially silent, coming to a stop beside her and pausing a moment, perhaps to look out at the lake. From where she was sitting, she'd have had to crane her neck to be sure. He was hardly a giant next to some of the other people in the Inquisition, but he was quite tall nonetheless. He crouched, though, coming to rest on the front half of his feet, the rest of his body folded over a few times in a way that didn't look comfortable but was not uncommon for him. He set his elbows on his knees and let his arms drape forward, the unobtrusive rustling of his deep blue tunic the only sound that came of any of it.
A breeze passed over the lake, rippling its still surface; a few waves lapped at the supports holding up the dock. âIt's quiet here." His tone didn't so much to change the factâwhile he had plenty of aggrandizement and bombast to spare when he wanted it, it certainly wasn't presently in evidence. âSome particular reason we're talking all the way down at the lake, instead of the tavern or something?"
Even though Zahra didnât particularly like to be kept waiting⊠she didnât mind the momentary solitude. A chance to be alone with her thoughts, listening to the soft waves rocking up against the wooden pier. It swayed with the soft breeze, rocking where sheâd chosen to perch herself: right on the lip. Her legs dangled over the edge, kicked into the empty air. She heard, rather than saw, Cyrus approaching. His steps were easy to identify. Sheâd come to know all of their steps; their approaching gaits. She felt like that was natural, given the time she spent with them.
It was a little comforting to know someone like that. Though it didnât make it any easier trying to wrestle her thoughts in order, make them sound less pathetic than they did in her own head. Wasnât that what she was being? Pathetic. At least, a little. As assured as she presented herself, there were things that even she didnât know how to handle. Things that made her feel small. Inadequate. A pirate, lost in a sea she wasnât sure how to navigate. The irony wasnât lost on her. Particularly because she came off so smoothâtongue untethered, able to draw out the reddest of cheeks at the most inopportune moments.
The tables had turned, it seemed.
Propping herself up on her elbows, Zahra scooted slightly backwards, in order to see him properly. The way he was crouched like that certainly didnât look comfortable, and almost child-like; though, sheâd never say that aloud or else maybe heâd leave her here, grabbing at her hair until she drove herself insane. She, too, looked out across the lake until Cyrus broke the silence. In a sense, she was relieved he had, because she wasnât sure where to start. âI⊠figured thereâd be no chance running into the person in question down here,â she cleared her throat and pursed her lips, âor anyone else for that matter.â How many times had she done just that to her companions? Her friends? Too many to count, to be sure. Teasing them was a hobby of hers; one that she was sorely good at.
âContrary to popular belief, I think Iâd die of embarrassment if anyone overheard.â
She swept a hand towards the lake and pointed towards an up-ended boat that had an oar missing. Sheâd managed to drag the thing to shore with Asalaâs help but the second oar was nowhere to be found. Maybe itâd sunk to the bottom of the lake, or drifted to the opposite shore. Sheâd been too red-faced and mystified to look for it. She remembered walking back in stone-faced silence, body tense as a stone. It hadnât been fair to her, at all.
âI donât think Iâve ever mentioned before⊠I mean, why would I?â A pause, grating against her molars. âIâm not as suave as people think I am and I think I have feelings. For someone. And this, it hasnât happened before.â A puff of breath seemed to deflate her. âI think I fucked it up already.â
Cyrus turned his head at the last bit, one eyebrow threatening to arch upwards with all the skepticism he had at his disposal. Which part prompted the reaction was hard to say exactly; in any case it settled, leaving him still more neutral to the problem than anything. At least visually. âYou must be really desperate. If I'm the one you're confiding in about this subject, I mean." He huffed a short breath out his nose. âYou know I've never had those feelings either, much less a functional long-term relationship." A pause, and then more quietly: âwasn't sure I believed any of it was real, for most of my life. Those feelings. A few years ago, I would have said you were deceiving yourself. Shrouding something biological in something delusional to make yourself feel better about it."
He pursed his lips, then turned his eyes back out to the lake. The breeze ruffled his hair, pulling a few loose bits back from his face. âSo... nonspecific problem-solving advice is all I've got. What did you fuck up, and how do you... ah... un-fuck it?"
The reaction made her laugh. It bubbled out from deep within her chest, uncontrolled. Of course, she was desperate. There was a reason sheâd sought out Cyrus of all people, even if their experiences, or lack thereof, were similar. He wouldnât try to tease out a response, or make her want to squirm out of existence⊠much like she had the habit of doing to others. She could dish it, sure. But having the tables turned on her? She was less equipped to deal with that sort of thing. A soft grin wrested itself onto her face, âI think thatâs why I chose you,â she drew herself up into a seated position and pulled her knees tight to her chest, âBesides, I knew you wouldnât laugh about it.â
Maybe, she just needed to speak her thoughts aloud. Maybe, she just needed to puzzle things together with someone she knew would listen, and offer sound reflections. Cyrus, at least, had always been able to make things make sense, even if this was the least logical subject she could have brought up. She was in the mind to agree. Sheâd never truly believed in love; in romance, in any of that mushy crap. It was an impossibility to her. Something so far removed from someone in her position. In her youth, sheâd nearly had a relationship forced down her throat, and afterwords, sheâd only thought of intimacy as a distraction: a pleasure, as fleeting as the winds billowing through her sails.
This was different. It made her guts twist and turn and for once in her life, she had no answers. Only questions, and uncertainties. She didnât want this to be a fleeting thing. She didnât want Asala to go away afterwards, disappear like a pretty flower sheâd picked from the garden. There was a sourness there, self-reflected. This was her problem, she knew that well enough. âI thought that too, you know? Maybe, thatâs why I asked you, too.â But sheâd been proven wrong more than once, since joining the Inquisition. Sheâd seen the impossible, render itself possible. Sheâd seen people like Khari and Rom drawn together, mending each otherâs wounds; Stel and Ves, carrying each other through the storms they faced.
This⊠was also different. Zahra was not, in any sense of the word, a good person. At least, not compared to Asala. Her past crimes, however far away they were now, stretched further than she could see. Sheâd raided for most of her career, killed thoughtlessly, stole, pillaged. Itâd been a choice of hers, not something sheâd been born to, but something sheâd been all too willing to do. As generous, as selfless, as sheâd been of late, that old Zahra still remained a large part of who she was, of who sheâd become here and now. What right did she have to be anything at Asalaâs side? It tormented her. She bit her lip and hugged her knees tighter, âIâve been avoiding her lately. I⊠brought her here, one day. On that wee boat just there.â She could already feel her ears growing hot. âThought itâd cheer her up.â
A pause, before half-buried her face into her knees and scoffed. At herself, mostly. âShe kissed me. I, I donât know why,â it came out as a weak sputter, âI didnât thinkâbloody hell, I couldnât even look at her after!â How could she fix anything if she turned into a statue whenever she so much as bumped into her? Most likely, Asala now believed sheâd done something wrong. It couldnât have been further from the truth. She peeked up at him and shook her head, curls intruding in her vision. âIâm not an idiot. I know that I wouldnât be any good for someone like her.â
Cyrus bore the explanation with the patience of a stone, which was itself quite unusual. Most of the time, he was a lightning bolt and problems were metal spires: he was drawn to them and struck fast, often before the explanation was entirely finished. His mind made all the intuitive leaps necessary to fill in the gaps and then bounded forward again, pausing only every now and then to drag whomever was following him forward. It had been like that with Corveus's riddle, to be sure.
But this time he just raised one of his hands, knuckling his jawline with a slow sort of methodical manner that seemed heavier than all that. Slower and more ponderous. a symptom of the problem itself, perhaps. He'd admitted to being the furthest thing from an expert in matters of the heart. When she fell silent, his shoulders rose, and then fell again as he exhaled.
âIsn't that for her to decide?" The question bore no hint of remonstrance or reproach. The tone in which he delivered it was almost tentative, as though it tasted strangely on his tongue. âWhether you're any good for her or not?" He grimaced, then shook his head. âNot that I think you shouldn't... express your reservations about that, since you have them. Your history is something I think the two of you probably ought to address, but it seems like you've already decided that it's too much for her without letting her have her say on the matter."
He glanced out at the boat for a moment before reverting his eyes. "If it's too much for you, that's one thing. But if you're just assuming it's too much for her, then..." He shrugged, the motion clipped, uncomfortable. âStop assuming and ask."
Wasnât it?
For her to decide, that is.
Zahra couldâve laughed at how simple it sounded. How simple it really was. Maybe, most of all, sheâd chosen Cyrus to speak to over anyone else because he had the innate ability to piece things together in the most logical manner, but in moments like these, he did it with a softer hand. Sometimes, it was exactly what she needed. Besides, whether he understood it or not, sheâd come to lean on him far more than sheâd ever leaned on anyone before. Drew herself vulnerable, exposed her wounds. She wasnât certain why, but they were similar enough that she felt she always could.
Her grip on her knees loosened as she scooted a little closer to him. The gentle breeze picked up, rippled across the lake and made the wooden pier sway. Not enough to question its integrity, but enough that it reminded her of being on the Riptide. It was comforting. Another reason sheâd chosen this place. She breathed softly from her nose, and sniffed. âFor someone whoâs not seasoned in romance⊠you sure do have good advice for it.â She wondered, frequently. What kind of person would be suitable for someone like Cyrus? It was a hobby of hers, trying to see whoâd match best in the Inquisition. She wasnât quite sure who could match his stride, not in the way he needed.
A shame, really.
âIâm afraid of her answer,â she admitted, shuffling closer until her shoulder brushed with his elbow, âI donât think Iâve ever wanted something this much, but I think youâre right.â A small smile tipped the side of her lips up, ponderous and wistful. âWhy arenât solutions ever easy? I swear, that conversation will be the death of me.â She was never any good at solving anything that couldn't be pinioned with an arrow. Let alone her own issues.
Oddly enough, though, he smiled at that, the sly expression natural to his face, and narrowed his eyes at her. "Hm. Might not be the worst thing. What do the Orlesians call it? La petite mort?" He snorted, shaking his head. "On second thought, don't ever tell me. I don't want to know. There are some people I just can't make myself think about in that context." He shuddered, dramatically enough that she could tell it was mostly for show.
"You'll do fine, Zahra. Bluntness is a strength of yours. Use it. Probably the only way she'll catch on anyhow."
âLe petit mortsâ Zahra repeated, in an awful rendition of what she thought Orlesians sounded like. All posh and lifted pinky fingers. Masks, and secrets, and everything else she found stuffy and uncomfortable. Her snorting laugh sounded out across the expanse of the lake. She, at least, felt unburdened from all those thoughts troubling her mind. There was only so much room there, between what was happening in Thedas and her own responsibilities here, in the Inquisition. Entertaining softer things was unusual for her.
She tskâd and blew errant curls from her face. Asala was rather naive, though she couldâve said the same for herself seeing how surprised sheâd been when she was kissed. Did Qunari do that on principle? Just to be nice? She didnât know. Either way, sheâd never find out moping around Skyhold.
âPromise me youâll be there if things go sour?â
Cyrus looked uneasy for half a second, but then the expression disappeared, and he nodded. "Of course."
At least sitting on the pier, sticking out like a knife into Skyholdâs resident lake, there was little chance of accidentally bumping into the subject at hand. How embarrassing would it be if sheâd joined them? Querying what they were talking about with that innocent face of hers. She would die, she was sure of it. Perhaps, sheâd even noted how she had been recently ducking away whenever she was near. Making herself scarce for reasons that made no sense to even her. It was childish, these tendencies of hers. Ones she had never thought herself capable.
It made her insides crawl. Furious at herself for not being the smooth-tongued freebooter sheâd always presented herself as.
Certainly not when she was concerned.
A soft sigh pushed past her lips as she tucked her bangs behind her ears. She deflated down against the piers wooden planks; a little too harshly. It bit into her shoulder blades. Uncomfortable. Just like she felt. She hoped, if anything, that this conversation would be enlightening. Cyrus had the habit of putting things into perspective, even when he didnât mean to. Itâs why sheâd been leaning on him so heavily as of late.
There were few and far in-between who she felt she ever could.
It took about another twenty minutes for Cyrus to show. As someone who rarely noticed things going on around him if he was really intent on something, that actually wasn't all that late. Perhaps he hadn't been too occupied when she delivered her note after all. His footsteps fell softly on the pier, the wood creaking only enough to alert her to his presence.
He was initially silent, coming to a stop beside her and pausing a moment, perhaps to look out at the lake. From where she was sitting, she'd have had to crane her neck to be sure. He was hardly a giant next to some of the other people in the Inquisition, but he was quite tall nonetheless. He crouched, though, coming to rest on the front half of his feet, the rest of his body folded over a few times in a way that didn't look comfortable but was not uncommon for him. He set his elbows on his knees and let his arms drape forward, the unobtrusive rustling of his deep blue tunic the only sound that came of any of it.
A breeze passed over the lake, rippling its still surface; a few waves lapped at the supports holding up the dock. âIt's quiet here." His tone didn't so much to change the factâwhile he had plenty of aggrandizement and bombast to spare when he wanted it, it certainly wasn't presently in evidence. âSome particular reason we're talking all the way down at the lake, instead of the tavern or something?"
Even though Zahra didnât particularly like to be kept waiting⊠she didnât mind the momentary solitude. A chance to be alone with her thoughts, listening to the soft waves rocking up against the wooden pier. It swayed with the soft breeze, rocking where sheâd chosen to perch herself: right on the lip. Her legs dangled over the edge, kicked into the empty air. She heard, rather than saw, Cyrus approaching. His steps were easy to identify. Sheâd come to know all of their steps; their approaching gaits. She felt like that was natural, given the time she spent with them.
It was a little comforting to know someone like that. Though it didnât make it any easier trying to wrestle her thoughts in order, make them sound less pathetic than they did in her own head. Wasnât that what she was being? Pathetic. At least, a little. As assured as she presented herself, there were things that even she didnât know how to handle. Things that made her feel small. Inadequate. A pirate, lost in a sea she wasnât sure how to navigate. The irony wasnât lost on her. Particularly because she came off so smoothâtongue untethered, able to draw out the reddest of cheeks at the most inopportune moments.
The tables had turned, it seemed.
Propping herself up on her elbows, Zahra scooted slightly backwards, in order to see him properly. The way he was crouched like that certainly didnât look comfortable, and almost child-like; though, sheâd never say that aloud or else maybe heâd leave her here, grabbing at her hair until she drove herself insane. She, too, looked out across the lake until Cyrus broke the silence. In a sense, she was relieved he had, because she wasnât sure where to start. âI⊠figured thereâd be no chance running into the person in question down here,â she cleared her throat and pursed her lips, âor anyone else for that matter.â How many times had she done just that to her companions? Her friends? Too many to count, to be sure. Teasing them was a hobby of hers; one that she was sorely good at.
âContrary to popular belief, I think Iâd die of embarrassment if anyone overheard.â
She swept a hand towards the lake and pointed towards an up-ended boat that had an oar missing. Sheâd managed to drag the thing to shore with Asalaâs help but the second oar was nowhere to be found. Maybe itâd sunk to the bottom of the lake, or drifted to the opposite shore. Sheâd been too red-faced and mystified to look for it. She remembered walking back in stone-faced silence, body tense as a stone. It hadnât been fair to her, at all.
âI donât think Iâve ever mentioned before⊠I mean, why would I?â A pause, grating against her molars. âIâm not as suave as people think I am and I think I have feelings. For someone. And this, it hasnât happened before.â A puff of breath seemed to deflate her. âI think I fucked it up already.â
Cyrus turned his head at the last bit, one eyebrow threatening to arch upwards with all the skepticism he had at his disposal. Which part prompted the reaction was hard to say exactly; in any case it settled, leaving him still more neutral to the problem than anything. At least visually. âYou must be really desperate. If I'm the one you're confiding in about this subject, I mean." He huffed a short breath out his nose. âYou know I've never had those feelings either, much less a functional long-term relationship." A pause, and then more quietly: âwasn't sure I believed any of it was real, for most of my life. Those feelings. A few years ago, I would have said you were deceiving yourself. Shrouding something biological in something delusional to make yourself feel better about it."
He pursed his lips, then turned his eyes back out to the lake. The breeze ruffled his hair, pulling a few loose bits back from his face. âSo... nonspecific problem-solving advice is all I've got. What did you fuck up, and how do you... ah... un-fuck it?"
The reaction made her laugh. It bubbled out from deep within her chest, uncontrolled. Of course, she was desperate. There was a reason sheâd sought out Cyrus of all people, even if their experiences, or lack thereof, were similar. He wouldnât try to tease out a response, or make her want to squirm out of existence⊠much like she had the habit of doing to others. She could dish it, sure. But having the tables turned on her? She was less equipped to deal with that sort of thing. A soft grin wrested itself onto her face, âI think thatâs why I chose you,â she drew herself up into a seated position and pulled her knees tight to her chest, âBesides, I knew you wouldnât laugh about it.â
Maybe, she just needed to speak her thoughts aloud. Maybe, she just needed to puzzle things together with someone she knew would listen, and offer sound reflections. Cyrus, at least, had always been able to make things make sense, even if this was the least logical subject she could have brought up. She was in the mind to agree. Sheâd never truly believed in love; in romance, in any of that mushy crap. It was an impossibility to her. Something so far removed from someone in her position. In her youth, sheâd nearly had a relationship forced down her throat, and afterwords, sheâd only thought of intimacy as a distraction: a pleasure, as fleeting as the winds billowing through her sails.
This was different. It made her guts twist and turn and for once in her life, she had no answers. Only questions, and uncertainties. She didnât want this to be a fleeting thing. She didnât want Asala to go away afterwards, disappear like a pretty flower sheâd picked from the garden. There was a sourness there, self-reflected. This was her problem, she knew that well enough. âI thought that too, you know? Maybe, thatâs why I asked you, too.â But sheâd been proven wrong more than once, since joining the Inquisition. Sheâd seen the impossible, render itself possible. Sheâd seen people like Khari and Rom drawn together, mending each otherâs wounds; Stel and Ves, carrying each other through the storms they faced.
This⊠was also different. Zahra was not, in any sense of the word, a good person. At least, not compared to Asala. Her past crimes, however far away they were now, stretched further than she could see. Sheâd raided for most of her career, killed thoughtlessly, stole, pillaged. Itâd been a choice of hers, not something sheâd been born to, but something sheâd been all too willing to do. As generous, as selfless, as sheâd been of late, that old Zahra still remained a large part of who she was, of who sheâd become here and now. What right did she have to be anything at Asalaâs side? It tormented her. She bit her lip and hugged her knees tighter, âIâve been avoiding her lately. I⊠brought her here, one day. On that wee boat just there.â She could already feel her ears growing hot. âThought itâd cheer her up.â
A pause, before half-buried her face into her knees and scoffed. At herself, mostly. âShe kissed me. I, I donât know why,â it came out as a weak sputter, âI didnât thinkâbloody hell, I couldnât even look at her after!â How could she fix anything if she turned into a statue whenever she so much as bumped into her? Most likely, Asala now believed sheâd done something wrong. It couldnât have been further from the truth. She peeked up at him and shook her head, curls intruding in her vision. âIâm not an idiot. I know that I wouldnât be any good for someone like her.â
Cyrus bore the explanation with the patience of a stone, which was itself quite unusual. Most of the time, he was a lightning bolt and problems were metal spires: he was drawn to them and struck fast, often before the explanation was entirely finished. His mind made all the intuitive leaps necessary to fill in the gaps and then bounded forward again, pausing only every now and then to drag whomever was following him forward. It had been like that with Corveus's riddle, to be sure.
But this time he just raised one of his hands, knuckling his jawline with a slow sort of methodical manner that seemed heavier than all that. Slower and more ponderous. a symptom of the problem itself, perhaps. He'd admitted to being the furthest thing from an expert in matters of the heart. When she fell silent, his shoulders rose, and then fell again as he exhaled.
âIsn't that for her to decide?" The question bore no hint of remonstrance or reproach. The tone in which he delivered it was almost tentative, as though it tasted strangely on his tongue. âWhether you're any good for her or not?" He grimaced, then shook his head. âNot that I think you shouldn't... express your reservations about that, since you have them. Your history is something I think the two of you probably ought to address, but it seems like you've already decided that it's too much for her without letting her have her say on the matter."
He glanced out at the boat for a moment before reverting his eyes. "If it's too much for you, that's one thing. But if you're just assuming it's too much for her, then..." He shrugged, the motion clipped, uncomfortable. âStop assuming and ask."
Wasnât it?
For her to decide, that is.
Zahra couldâve laughed at how simple it sounded. How simple it really was. Maybe, most of all, sheâd chosen Cyrus to speak to over anyone else because he had the innate ability to piece things together in the most logical manner, but in moments like these, he did it with a softer hand. Sometimes, it was exactly what she needed. Besides, whether he understood it or not, sheâd come to lean on him far more than sheâd ever leaned on anyone before. Drew herself vulnerable, exposed her wounds. She wasnât certain why, but they were similar enough that she felt she always could.
Her grip on her knees loosened as she scooted a little closer to him. The gentle breeze picked up, rippled across the lake and made the wooden pier sway. Not enough to question its integrity, but enough that it reminded her of being on the Riptide. It was comforting. Another reason sheâd chosen this place. She breathed softly from her nose, and sniffed. âFor someone whoâs not seasoned in romance⊠you sure do have good advice for it.â She wondered, frequently. What kind of person would be suitable for someone like Cyrus? It was a hobby of hers, trying to see whoâd match best in the Inquisition. She wasnât quite sure who could match his stride, not in the way he needed.
A shame, really.
âIâm afraid of her answer,â she admitted, shuffling closer until her shoulder brushed with his elbow, âI donât think Iâve ever wanted something this much, but I think youâre right.â A small smile tipped the side of her lips up, ponderous and wistful. âWhy arenât solutions ever easy? I swear, that conversation will be the death of me.â She was never any good at solving anything that couldn't be pinioned with an arrow. Let alone her own issues.
Oddly enough, though, he smiled at that, the sly expression natural to his face, and narrowed his eyes at her. "Hm. Might not be the worst thing. What do the Orlesians call it? La petite mort?" He snorted, shaking his head. "On second thought, don't ever tell me. I don't want to know. There are some people I just can't make myself think about in that context." He shuddered, dramatically enough that she could tell it was mostly for show.
"You'll do fine, Zahra. Bluntness is a strength of yours. Use it. Probably the only way she'll catch on anyhow."
âLe petit mortsâ Zahra repeated, in an awful rendition of what she thought Orlesians sounded like. All posh and lifted pinky fingers. Masks, and secrets, and everything else she found stuffy and uncomfortable. Her snorting laugh sounded out across the expanse of the lake. She, at least, felt unburdened from all those thoughts troubling her mind. There was only so much room there, between what was happening in Thedas and her own responsibilities here, in the Inquisition. Entertaining softer things was unusual for her.
She tskâd and blew errant curls from her face. Asala was rather naive, though she couldâve said the same for herself seeing how surprised sheâd been when she was kissed. Did Qunari do that on principle? Just to be nice? She didnât know. Either way, sheâd never find out moping around Skyhold.
âPromise me youâll be there if things go sour?â
Cyrus looked uneasy for half a second, but then the expression disappeared, and he nodded. "Of course."