redshiftlogs | [Closed] You're never strangers with compassion

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[Closed] You're never strangers with compassion

Who: Cole and Allison
What: Meeting ~~your baby brother's boyfriend~~
When: Late at night, during the height of the plague
Where: The kitchen area
Warnings: None at present.

Cole senses her the moment she arrives, of course.

But until this night, she hasn't needed his presence. Her hurts are being processed in the healthiest way possible for the Hargreeves children, and he's a little more interested in Ben and helping him.

Tonight, she feels alone and it's too quiet, so Cole goes to find her, checks Ben is asleep and whispers for his dreams to be gentle with him and then he goes to the kitchen.

He starts the conversation and notifies her that he's there by saying "I can't get sick, so I won't be a danger to you."

Allison, meet Cole.

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"I'm not alive, not like mortals, but I'm not a robot either. I'm a spirit, Compassion, but I wear this shape now and this shape was called Cole."

And yes, he is totally reading her mind.

"I don't like using the devices. I'm... empathic. Telepathic. The devices words don't make proper sense, they exist, but there's nothing in them, no feeling, no intent, just... shape. I scare you, I'm sorry, I don't mean to. I did this wrong."

He looks at her, for a moment, he wants to tell her to Forget. Try it over, get it right. But that's... not what Ben would want.

"I won't hurt you. I was Compassion before I was Cole and Compassion means when you hurt, I hurt."

A spirit? Allison initially isn't sure how to wrap her head around that. Spirits shouldn't be possible, but then again, neither should her or her sibling's powers, or Anchor, for that matter. But the fact of the matter is, Cole read Allison's mind, and he did it correctly. Which means that Allison isn't the only being here capable of spooky mind powers. It's a position Allison's never been in before, one that's a little unsettling. Allison realizes now, better than she ever did before, that her powers gave her a certain, well, power over people. To not have that power is a kind of vulnerability, one that Allison will now have to get used to.

And then Cole says that when she hurts, he hurts, and Allison frowns. All powers have drawbacks, she supposes. Cole creeps Allison out a little, but she definitely doesn't want to hurt him. So she tries to bury that uncertainty, tries to act with her mind, calling to mind if not more pleasant thoughts, at least more welcoming ones.

It really is good to meet you. You didn't do anything wrong.

Hopefully the message gets through.

"It's frightening. To make the decision not to use an ability to compel. I can make people forget me. I wanted to do it when I did this all wrong, but I'm not meant to. It's not fair to people, but it was really hard to not ask you to forget so I could try again. Do it better."

He's rambling a bit, which is what happens with new people. Especially new people he wants to like him. Allison matters to Ben, so he wants her to like him. Or not dislike him.

Pleasant things, warmth, soft curls, "bright smile, baby smell, Claire. Heart too full, I never knew anyone could feel this way about anything. I'm sorry, but she's your happiest thought and biggest hurt."

"To not use an ability to compel," Cole said. Allison purses her lips ever so slightly. So he knows, then, or can tell, that she has powers. Which means that he, unlike most people in Anchor, know more about what kind of a person she is. So to Allison, it's a little confusing why Cole keeps talking to her, why he seems to want to talk to her. Doesn't he realize that she's not a good person, not deep down?

Thanks, I guess. For not making me forget, Allison thinks.

And then Cole describes Claire, but not just her physical appearance, or other things that are more obvious to a bystander. No, he describes what it's like to love her, and Allison can feel the longing grip her heart, the pain and fear and worry. She'll probably never feel the same way again, the way she felt when she was with Claire, and it will be all her fault.

You don't have to apologize. What happened was my fault.

"You're not a bad person. You're a person, who was told really wrong things for lots and lots of years and it's really, really hard to undo that. You're a better person than you think you are. That guilty feeling? You wouldn't have that if you were a bad person."

It might be becoming apparent that what Allison intends Cole to hear and what Cole actually hears are not the same. When she thinks at him lacks the emotions for him to really hear. What she feels and thinks about what she feels? That he hears.

"You might never feel the same, but if you had another child, you'd feel just as strong. Not the same. Every love is unique to those it connects, but they can be just as strong. And Claire might not be gone to you forever. The universe is infinite. So are the possibilities."

Allison sits, fidgeting a little, not looking at Cole. She's not sure what to make of him, not sure if she should be angry at him for reading her thoughts, her feelings, naming a guilt she's never really been able to properly discuss with anyone. Or should she be touched, grateful even, that someone saw the real her and didn't hate her for it? It's all so confusing. Allison takes a few breaths.

She shakes her head no -- she can't have another child, not when she was such a horrible parent to Claire the first time around. That's what the court had said, after all. That she was unfit to parent. Unfit like he was. Like Reginald. There's a part of Allison that fears that really, she could be as bad of a parent as Reginald was, and right now, that fear is starting to rise to the surface.

How does Ben handle this, Allison wonders. This kind of caring, and honesty?

"I'm sorry it hurts," Cole says softly. "But it's better to let the hurt out before it festers. You're not a bad person. You're not even a bad mother, you just did something bad that you know is wrong now." He comes closer slowly, his presence is vaguely soothing and very non-threatening.

"You're not like Reginald. At all. He hurt you all, he made you feel like not people and he hurt you and he didn't care and that was wicked. You were frustrated and reacted the way you always have. The way he taught you to, that he taught you was your right to behave. Your duty. You're not a bad mother, Allison. Cole had a bad father. You had a bad guardian. But you? You're not bad."

Allison does her best to listen, she really does. Cole seems to be trying so hard to be nice, and Allison does appreciate it, but it's also a lot. She's used to being able to build walls, to close herself off from people, to force them to stop if she had to. A lonely existence, maybe, but a safe one. She doesn't have those resources here though, and all she can do is let Cole's words wash over her, and take what she can.

She does notice Cole speak in the third person though, and that grounds her a little -- it sounds off, and Allison latches onto that, trying to feel confusion rather than feel what's harder.

Cole stops, backing up a step and pressing a hand to his chest. "You... want something explained? Words are easier, with words, there's intent and impression and feeling. I know, words are hard for you, it hurts, but it's not always easy to get to intent without words to guide. Your hurt makes other things hard for me to hear." Hurt over Claire, her marriage, her guilt... and the physical pain of her injury.

Allison closes her eyes and leans against the kitchen counter, taking deep breaths. In and out, in and out. Communication with the injury hasn't been exactly convenient so far, but it's never been this demoralizing before. She knows that it's not Cole's fault, and believes him when he says that her hurts are too loud. But she can't make those go away, not this instant, so instead she swallows a couple of times, trying to work her vocal chords into a state where they can at least say something.

"I'm sorry, I can't..." Allison is eventually able to manage. Her voice is painfully quiet, horribly hoarse, but it's there, and for that, Allison is grateful.

"Talk about something else. Anything -- you, Anchor. Not this," Allison adds, slowly. She can't take more exposure of her own feelings, and assumes that Cole, like most sentient creatures, probably enjoys talking about himself at least a little.

"Shh shh, no, no, no, don't speak." Cole darts forward and presses a fingertip to her lips. "Please, don't hurt yourself, let it heal."

His hand drops the moment he's sure she'll stop speaking.

"Anchor is like other places. It hungers to be populated and it feeds a hunger to have us here. The Red Shift sweeps realities in and out, a lyrium behemoth from my world, a food store from yours, creatures from worlds no one here knows of. There was an Anchor before this, in the same physical shell, but not the same. It died, but I don't know how. The Red Shift makes it hard to read."

Cole doesn't really talk about himself.

Allison stiffens at Cole's touch. It's instinctual, not personal. She's just trying to keep whatever walls up that she can. Cole knows too much, has too much access, and Allison isn't sure how much more contact, more forced connection she can take.

When Cole drops his hands, Allison steps back, not horrified, but now visibly agitated. Cole, to his credit, does what she asks. He talks about Anchor, and while it doesn't make much sense, it is at least different. Not about her. She closes her eyes and nods, breathing in and out, trying to regain her composure.

The last part is interesting, though. When Cole says that Anchor died she finally opens her eyes, brow furrowed a little. How does a whole place just die?

Cole pulls at his fingers, hands in motion and slightly agitated. "A place can die when everything that makes it what it is is gone. A castle stronghold which falls under siege, its people gone, its history forgotten, the shell may stand but it has died. Do you understand? I never know if I'm explaining things in ways mortals perceive."

Skyhold died. And then Solas brought the Inquisition to it and Skyhold lived, but not the same Skyhold.

"Anchor died. And now, Anchor lives again, but not the same Anchor."

Allison nods. She does understand, for once. She thinks about the Academy, destroyed by its own lies, its years of secrets and abuse. Vanya didn't destroy it. Reginald did, and the whole thing was rotting from the start.

Allison tilts her head a little. The way mortals perceive? How does he see things, then? What's so different about it?

"You have insides and outsides. Spirits don't. My inside is my outside. I speak to you, in and out. But they aren't always the same for you. Your outside says one thing and your inside says another. Your inside if louder, because your outside is silent."

That totally explains, right?

Allison isn't sure she follows. Inside and outside is metaphorical here, right? Because she's pretty sure that Cole isn't talking about having like, faces but also having internal organs. It's more about how you really feel, versus what you display to others. That's something Allison understands very, very well, perhaps better than most. She's made a whole career, after all, of deeply feeling one thing, and saying another. Cole, on the other hand, would probably make a terrible actor. She smiles a little, at the thought -- it's almost funny, really.

In a way, that relaxes her, too. It humanizes Cole a little, makes him a bit easier to understand, to empathize with. She still isn't sure how many deep, personal conversations she wants to have with him about her loves and regrets, but she can understand his actions a little better maybe, if he can only say what he feels.

"I understand plays, but I don't really get them," Cole admits. "But I like being read to. Ben reads to me and it's nicer than when Cassandra would read, but they both love the words and the feel of the pages under their fingers and the play of words out loud. I like hearing stories, but reading hurts, there's the words, and what the words want to be, and what the person holding them wanted them to be and it gets very loud."

Allison smiles for the first time since she's seen Cole. It's a small one, but soft and genuine. She can easily imagine Ben reading to Cole -- he's always liked books, and it always feels so good to share something you love with someone else, especially when the other person likes it too.

She thinks about Claire again, but this time, the memories have a little bit more happiness to them. She wishes she could read to her daughter again, someday. That they will be together again, a whole family, with Allison's injuries healed, physical and emotional.

Thank you, Allison tries to think, tries to direct her thoughts at Cole. For prodding a good memory. I'm sure Ben likes reading to you, too.

"Picture books of Mom's adventures, Space Boy on the moon, waiting for a danger that boiled over on Earth-" He shakes his head. "Sorry. Not that. You will, I think, read to her again. And maybe she'll be there to be read to."

And Cole's back to being obtuse.

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[Closed] You're never strangers with compassion

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