don't know what I'm supposed to do; chaol

[leliana]

I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you

He is being sweet, she knows, and part of her warms beneath it, but not nearly enough of her.

His kindness barely brushes past the surface, and she hears the words as an echo—as a ripple in the water overheard. She strains toward it, pushes the edges of the walls that hold her close, but she relaxes and stops trying. She wonders at the effort it takes to keep breathing, at the physical thought that she has to put into it—the way her lungs barely expand, at the way she has to force it every time.

Would Chaol think less of her if he knew just how difficult it was to keep breathing?

Poor sad, pathetic Leliana. Broken again.

She chokes back a sob that threatens to claw up her throat when she thinks of how many times he has found her like this—broken and battered. How many times can she fall apart before it becomes her fault? How many times can she crumble to dust before it’s her own hand that has done the damage?

She doesn’t have the answers. Doesn’t want to figure out the answers. She wants to sink into memories. She wants to be young again, hopeful again. She can feel it now. Sleeping in a meadow with a strange bone-armored boy wrapped around her. His lips feverish and his eyes kind and her heart erupting in her chest for the very first time. It is a hint of warmth that burns the edges, nearly breathes life into her, but she drops the memory—watches as it flows, as it sinks, further and further down until it is gone again.

“Okay,” is all she finally says, although she isn’t even sure what she is responding to.

She turns her head and presses it into his neck, doing her best to focus on breathing.

“Okay.”

No more tears fall, and she can’t decide if that’s better or worse.

@[Chaol]