how do I learn my dreams to mold, to lay them bare in the morning cold?
Nikolaus barely notices her mother in the background—barely notices the way that her mouth grows taut with worry, her healer’s heart tightening as she lets her magic root through him to find the knots of muscle and the places where bone regrew but regrew wrong. All he sees is the little girl of branches and bramble in front of him, the way she is still impossibly lovely in this form—just more delicate, more natural.
He realizes that moving is difficult for her—for reasons he cannot guess—so he limps forward further to fill in the distance. He closes the space with an exhale until his chest of flesh and bone is pressed against hers of crooked, tangled bark. It scratches but he doesn’t mind and although there is still worry that blossoms in him, a confusion he won’t ever be able to dispel, it is not because it is not her any longer.
For a second, he stands like that, his black chest pressed against her own, his cheek to her roughened back before she speaks again and he takes a stumbling step back. It wasn’t until she called for her that he remembered that her mother was here at all. Frowning, he twists his head back to where Leliana continues to stand, her wings now matching the tree that has overgrown her daughter, a question on his face.
“It’s okay, darling,” Leliana says quietly, and her hazel eyes are calm again. “Remember when I asked you to trust me? I could bring you back—but I needed help. The earth had to help.” There is only a hint of regret on her mouth now and Nikolaus thinks he understands but he doesn’t.
He doesn’t so he continues to be still, to be quiet.
“You’re now of the earth—and you are beautiful, my Linnea, but it will be different.”
He nods and his mercurial gaze slips back to the daughter of the trees. “You are beautiful, Linnea,” he affirms, his voice still raspy and quiet. “You’re not wrong,” he says and Leliana just nods. “The earth could bring you back—but not your fire, little dove. Not your healing.” There is a pause, and this time she directs the question to her daughter’s friend. “I can help, but it won’t be painless, and I am not sure that I can unwind all of the damage completely. There may still be…reminders.”
Nikolaus lifts his leg slightly, wincing, and then puts it down.
His breathing grows quicker as he looks back to Linnea. There he finds everything he needs to grow courage in his breast and he just sets his jaw, nodding as he looks back to Leliana. The magician’s smile is sad as she begins to let threads of golden light work their way toward him, letting it sink into his leg.
“Linnea, try to distract him—if you can.”
nikolaus
if they’re still out there then the chasm grows
( for all you know, for all you’ve known )