Chapter Text
"It didn't work," Cole burst into Solas's office which always seemed well lit despite there being no direct windows.
The man was painting, sitting towards the roof as he detailed one mural. Slow strokes, intent to finish without wasting an ounce of paint, he addressed his guest without diverting his attention, "May I inquire as to what, Cole?"
"Dorian asked me to help," Cole was fretting, pacing, "Because he was too drunk to find the words. Bitter ale on his tongue, too many drinks but he mustn't ever let anyone know that. --He asked me to help him explain."
Solas set the brush down but only after rinsing it in a cup of water. He covered his paints so they wouldn't dry out before climbing down to sooth the spirit's nerves, "What was it he wanted you to explain exactly?"
"People aren't just strictly one or the other," Cole whined, "Complex, changing, intertwining--Every experience is unique, every person's body and soul. How can that be separated into just two categories?"
Solas gave him a genuine look of surprise, "It is said that the ancient elves had many genders, hundreds, not classified as humans classify them today."
"Yes, but you still only like one," Cole pointed out, "A very specific design with very specific features! One gender of hundreds."
"That is not necessarily true. They may present themselves to me one way and I may come to find those features attractive whether they identify full with one gender or not."
"The grey area!" Cole tried to grasp it with his hands, "That was what I was supposed to explain! …But when I tried I just pulled at the hurt, tugged it loose and raw. I made things worse."
A hand placed on the spirit's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Cole moved forward to hug Solas, a shiver and shake. He always felt welcomed by the other man, never shunned or cast away. This feeling was confirmed when Solas returned the intimacy with a reassuring hug, "Perhaps it was a thread that needed to be pulled, the first piece to untangling a knot."
He rubbed the large shoulders of the boyish spirit, letting the embrace fade as Cole pulled away, "But what if he doesn't heal?"
"Give it time, Cole. You can find the hurt and what heals it, perhaps its best you focus on the later for now."
"What… heals the hurt?" He questioned, searching for the answer as they stood stilled in the silence. The crows quieter than they often were.
"…A soft smile, with gentle eyes and a warm laugh. He likes the way he laughs, it sounds like summers with Mia, running through the village, dirt kicking into dust. His eyes catch the light, it's hard to tell what color they are this way, but he likes that."
"Good," Solas affirmed with a small smile, "See? It is being healed already."
Cole nodded slowly, "There's still much more hurt but… It is a start."
"Go to where you are needed most, Cole, and if there is none, you are free to stay here and watch me paint."
"I like watching you paint," Cole commented with a small smile, "…But I have to find a duck. A wooden duck, four wheels. I will be back. Thank you Solas."
"Anytime, Cole."