“I would like to show. It’s…a funny thing, no one else ever asks to see them.” He knelt closer as she worked, wanting to help but also not get in the way. “Thank you…I…it helps…” He nodded at the mention of daggers. “It is a light stone. The fade reached as wind…”

Talk of more, both sweet *whispers and hums near her ear*

“Yes…no…she wanted to keep the stories, and protect… but so much more of the world called…Oh!” He hops over the last two river stones and calls out. “There you are! Lord Wool! Shall we lead you home again?” A bright trail of flame flares and dies among the grass

“When I am mad, it is for answers. I believe but my following is a run, rage and-“ He shakes a bit and rights himself. “No troubling…Oh, grandmother. She understood mother, and the clan did too in time, most in part. Mother only gave up ever being keeper…”

My breath waits for it *kisses her back and runs a hand through her hair*

*squints* A very hungry one

“Then… being honest…” Cole looks down and picks at his gloves, his words don’t have their usual even tone anymore but a low accent. “I think…I do believe but…I am also very mad at him. For…everything.” He shakes his head. “Her grandmother is dead, remembered well. Her clan, some pushed away…”

In the snow, playing? A snowball fight?

They do, but your cinnamon rolls hold a special place. I remember they were one of the first things you made for me💙

“Yes, in with it’s new friends, to my collection!” He put it into an inside pocket, carefully way from his daggers. He’s learnt lately the rocks dulled blades if they were a certain type, though he didn’t know the why of it. “Oh, ore? Where…spots of green!” The ore shown in the sun as he dug

“Yes. The dalish need to be listened too. Now she is loud enough with the mark. They cannot look away…” he rubbed the rock, turning it over in his hand “Not ore but a pretty color. Sorry it wanted it my pocket…”