And then he has to go be weird again

[killedwithlove]

Who: Cole + Anyone willing to come find him on the Pathstone
Broadcast: n/a
Action: Cole's bunk on the Pathstone
When: Now ish?

[Usually, Cole manages a fairly good impression of amicably odd. And, normally, he's a fairly stable person, at the least he's out and about and piloting and generally sticking his nose into people's hurts to help them.

But he's retreated into his heretofore unused bunk for the last day or so. He talks to himself a lot in a whisper and worse, he seems to have wrangled up paint from somewhere, because on the floor outside his bunk, there's painted writing.]

A gold sonnet

[The handwriting is sharp and rushed and unpracticed.]

Comments

[onlyanapple]

[Crowley finds Cole a little...odd at the best of times. Still, he's no weirder than some of the demons he's had to deal with back home, and infinitely less weird than some of the beings from other worlds he's dealt with since leaving home.

The writing is odd. If Aziraphale were here, he'd probably find some deeper meaning to it, but as is, Crowley will just have to rely on good old fashioned talking. He opens Cole's door to peer inside. Checking up on the kid without actually saying so. He's a pro at this.]

Is that a shopping list or something? You know how touchy Tek gets about the ship being messy.

[killedwithlove]

[Cole's room is more disturbed than it ever has been.

One wall is painted with shapes and signs that don't mean anything, not in any language spoken, but there's something uneasy about the curls and flicks from the corner, a burst on the wall somehow says 'rage' without there being anything about it that should say that.

Around a mass of something that makes the stomach queasy and defiant, there is another phrase painted.]

All new, faded for her

[Cole looks up. There a black smudge over his nose and his hands are stained with the black paint.]

Tekhetsio... Nerves aid deed.

Your wings are better kept.

[onlyanapple]

[Well. Buggery.

He has a good idea where Cole's roundabout weird mind-reading way of talking is going and gives a shrug.]

Yeah, well. I have a sense of style, it's to be expected. You redecorating?

[killedwithlove]

[Despite everything that might be expected from Cole, his response is a very human look away and shrug.]

Solas painted the walls. He was better at it, but it's not about how it looks, but how it made him feel. I don't think it's helping me like it did him.

[onlyanapple]

[Well, that was helpfully straightforward. Crowley was never that sold on Solas. There was something deeply wrong about the elf that put the demon on edge. He could never put his finger on it.]

Not one for art therapy, huh? Ever thought about taking up poetry?

[killedwithlove]

[Cole could be amazingly straight forward while not actually offering anything helpful or informative about what he was doing or what he had painted or why the crazy words.]

No. I don't understand it. I use words, but they tumble and trip, turning and twisting to bite.

Ouroboros.

[onlyanapple]

...Well, at least there was an attempt. Can't fault you for that.

[princessia]

[ Since moving to the Pathstone, she has been doing similar to what she has been doing during her last week on the Huntress: sleeping her days away and having very little interest in her usual hobbies like drawing. Less crying is probably the only small improvement in Elize's mood. But even the smallest reminder of Cullen might wind up making her misty eyed.

Some days it's harder for her to sleep, so she either seeks out Jove or Cole to keep her company. Today, she's looking for Cole. She gives the writing a quick glance over, unable to read it too well. She only knows Rieze Maxian writing and a small bit of common tongue.

She enters his room, in her nightgown and Hoppo in one arm. ]

...Cole?

[killedwithlove]

[Cole's room is... chaotic.

There's virtually nothing in the way of belongings in here. The bed looks untouched, probably from the day he arrived.

The once normal walls are no longer. One wall is covered in black paint, things that Elize may be able to recognise as Cole's odd and often futile attempts to draw and paint people how he sees them, rather than how his eyes see them.

One corner is filled with shapes of disturbing defiance and revolt. A burst along one side is clearly anger, though there is no way to explain how or why it is.

There's more words on the wall that she won't recognise.

Cole himself is not wearing his hat. His fingers are stained black with paint, and there's a smudge on his nose. He looks startled at Elize's appearance, like she's managed to sneak up on him.]

... yes?

[princessia]

I...

[ A pause as she gives the walls a look over, the paintings easily pulling her eyes away from Cole.

He had mentioned that he doesn't use his room, so she wasn't quite expecting to see the walls covered with paint. She's more familiar with his drawings when they're done with the colorful pens during their drawing sessions together. She probably would have dismissed it as "normal" if they were done similarly.

To see one of the corners filled with disturbing shapes and in black paint is not the sort of drawings she's used to seeing from him. It's a little... scary. ]

I-I was hoping to stay here for the night.

[ Whatever "night" is in the space. Whenever she feels tired, probably. She squishes her doll close to her chest. Despite the off-putting patterns on the wall, she still wants to stay near Cole. ]

[killedwithlove]

[Cole looks at his hands, wipes them on his shirt and the nods slightly.]

You can stay here. It smells a bit funny with the paint, but I can leave the door open to let the air move more.

[He notices where he gaze in drawn.]

That's the Dread Wolf. Defiance and damnation.

[It doesn't look like a wolf. At all. Maybe that space in the black pain could be an eye? And then another eye? And a third below that? Or maybe they're just gaps.]

[princessia]

[ She burrows underneath the sheets and blankets, making a mess of what was once an untouched bunk. Wrapping herself in the blanket, she pulls part of it over her head like a hood. If the paint smell gets too bothersome for her, she can try to block it out by covering herself with the sheets.

No, it doesn't look like a wolf, but she's not going to argue with him about how it should look in a human's eyes. ]

The Dread Wolf? Another creature from Thedas?

[killedwithlove]

[Cole sits on the edge of the bed, looking at his hands, his grubby nails.]

No. Yes. I mean, he's not a creature. He is. From Thedas, of Thedas, more than others are. Maybe more than we are. He is clever and cunning, wise and far seeing, but short sighted. He loves the Fade and spirits, but he's not as fond of mortals.

He is Fen' Harel, Dread Wolf. All new, faded for her.

[dawnwillcome]

[Well this is certainly

concerning. Hmm. Jove watches from the doorway for a few moments before stepping inside, standing beside Cole and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.]

Cole?

[killedwithlove]

[The room isn't great. And, to a mage, there's something almost Fade like about it. Like someone trying to express bits of the Fade with paint and real walls and solid concepts that can't be physically expressed.]

Sometimes I remember things from before Cole. Being Compassion.

I saw an Archdemon. But that was after Cole.

[dawnwillcome]

[Yeah no that doesn't make her feel any better about whatever state he's in.]

Do you like to remember things from that time?

[killedwithlove]

From which time?

Rhys' mother saw the Archdemon. Fought the Archdemon. Old woman, wise and worn and waiting, Faith soft and silent inside her.

[Cole moves towards the paint again.]

[dawnwillcome]

When you were Compassion. Before Cole.

[Concern is blooming so intensely in her, but as he moves away she doesn't follow him. Letting him work through whatever this is is probably the best move.]

I don't think you've ever told me about Rhys' mother.

[killedwithlove]

Oh. No. I don't remember a lot. Compassion doesn't need to remember. I remember others. Spirits. Dreamers.

[He dips his fingers in and starts to lay down paint on the wall.]

He didn't really know her. He was raised by the Chantry. She was distant, standing high, wonderful witch, miserable mother. Wynne.

[openhands]

[Cassandra comes across the painted words outside his bunk and frowns a little. Her frown only deepens when she hears his whispering from inside. Cassandra is a little concerned when she knocks on his door.]

Cole?

[killedwithlove]

[He sticks his head out after a moment. There's paint in his hair and across one cheek, stark black against his paleness.]

Yes, Cassandra?

[openhands]

I assume you have an explanation for this.

[She gestures to the words on the floor.]

[killedwithlove]

[He looks from her to the words and then back to her, head tilting to the side slightly.

He doesn't understand, but he's trying to read what she feels and wants him to say off her.

What is there to explain?]

[openhands]

[Shifts in Cole's behavior are always a small cause for concern. Until she knows the reasons behind why he does the things that he does, Cassandra is always on guard as a precaution.]

Well?

[killedwithlove]

What is there to explain?

[It seems self evident to him.]

The words needed to be outside. I didn't have space inside for them.