(no subject)

[inquisitions_anchor]

[OOM: Two Harrowings]

As the door opens, there's a quiet sound of crying on the other side, and murmured conversation. When the redhead walks in and realizes it's Milliways on the other side, she hastily closes the door. The rest of her movement, though, is rather slow and hesitant as she makes her way to a booth and leans her staff up against it.

And then she slides into the booth, rests her elbows on the table, and buries her face in her hands.

If you look closely, she might be shaking a little bit.

The tears won't start collecting on the table until they can leak past her hands.

Comments

[littlegreycells]

Some might call Hercule Poirot a busybody. He has never seen himself that way, and has often managed to offer a friendly ear when none where available.

And he is, in his own way, gallant, a gentleman of the old school.

"Pardon me, mademoiselle, but do you need a tissue?"

[inquisitions_anchor]

Evelyn looks up, and now the tear streaks are quite clear on her face, and her wet hands.

"I-- no, thank you, I--"

More tears start tracking down her face. She absolutely needs a tissue. Or a million.

[littlegreycells]

Poirot does not hesitate to find a convenient box of tissues - the soft American kind that didn't exist in his day - and brings it over to the woman.

[inquisitions_anchor]

She's a very young woman, too--barely more than a girl, and it shows more today than usual.

But then, she usually doesn't feel so lost.

She blinks, blearily, at the tissues. She's... never actually seen anything quite like this before. After a moment of looking blankly at it, she hesitantly takes one and blows her nose.

It's kind a noisy and messy affair, as her hands are wet from tears and she's a general wreck. "...'nks."

[littlegreycells]

"It is, as they would say, not a thing." All those years in England and still English eludes him. "But if you need a drink of water, or a friendly ear, just ask." He sees how young she is. And also how she is dressed, not in clothes of a modern day but perhaps those of the Middle Ages.

[freedom_is_grey]

Oh, that cannot be good.

Ysa doesn't run in Evelyn's direction, but she does walk rather briskly in that direction.

"I -- Evelyn, wasn't it? Are -- what happened?"

Liranan is only a step behind, rumbling low in his chest. Something is wrong! He will fix it! Or Ysa will!

[inquisitions_anchor]

Deathpuppy actually makes things a little better, just by existing. In that deathpuppy can make her smile a little, albeit extremely watery and broken, when she raises her head.

Hi, Ysalwen. Her brown eyes are wide and reddened from tears and a mess of fear and grief and that understanding she's been avoiding so very, very much.

"I-- I'm fine, I'm not-- it's my... he's not a friend, I can't even..."

And then she just loses it a little, because Ysalwen was in a Circle and caught shit from them, she will get it if only Evelyn can manage to get it out. Face is back in hands and shaking.

[freedom_is_grey]

"Shhhhh."

Ysa's voice is very gentle, and she settles down next to Evelyn and pulls the girl over into her arms.

"Shhhh. Breathe. Just breathe, and center yourself, and then we can talk."

And then, maybe, some heads will roll. Probably not metaphorically.

[inquisitions_anchor]

Evelyn cries into Ysalwen's shoulder for a while, because she did this for Karla and had to be strong enough in front of Brit and Karla not to shatter completely, and she had turned over Karla to Brit long enough to search out Jordan.

Karla's been crying for hours now.

Evelyn doesn't even know what to do anymore.

Finally, still weeping, she manages to get out a single word:

"Harrowing."

She knows it'll be enough.

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysa's arms tighten.

Oh no.

Maker and Andraste damn them all.

"Yours?"

Except she said 'he's not a friend', so --

Maybe not.

[childofrebellion]

Cassian wants to sit down and not think, when he hears and sees her crying, his focus shifts. Slowly he walks over, his hands visible with a few trembles of their own, her outfit isn't familiar but he doesn't want to make anything worse.

Crying is always difficult, but in a place like this complicated, he stands to block her from view of the main Bar as he says quietly, "Miss, I won't move until you want anyone to know you're here."

[inquisitions_anchor]

Evelyn can't see his hands shaking; her face is buried in her own hands (and getting snot and tears all over them, but that's another matter.

But--

Wow. That's--

"...'nk you," she manages after a bit. It isn't even that she minds, she just... doesn't even know what to do. And here at least her people at home can't see this, she can't let them. Poor Karla needs to think she can handle this. And she so can't.

But the shield is... not something people really do for her. That's nice.

[childofrebellion]

"Take your time. I'm going to order a warm drink and turn around. I can hear you,"

He turns and leans on the booth enough to still hide her but not be obvious about it. When a rat goes by, he orders a caf with some rum in it and something to blow his nose. Bar provides his drink and a box of tissues that he sets behind him with only one tremble before he can wrap his hands around his drink.

[inquisitions_anchor]

She nods a little, behind her hands, and just sits there shaking for a little while. The tissues help, once she figures out what they're there for (or even notices their existence). Eventually she decides to try to get the snot and tears off her hands, at least, and blow her nose.

"You... you didn't have to." Beat. "Th-thank you."

Sniffle.

More nose-blowing.

She's not sure what to say, but she really means it. It's so nice, and kindness from strangers is few and far between for mages.

[childofrebellion]

"Its something I can do,"

Its something he wishes other people had done for him and he can do it for her. He's also protected those hurting and mourning too often, words are hard, but privacy, he can provide.

[fate_or_chance]

Hawke's really no good at dealing with people crying. That is -- was -- Bethany's field of expertise, and even sometimes Carver's on a good day.

Still. Attempts can be made.

A small basket of lemon cakes gets set down on the table, just before Hawke slides in across from Evelyn, with a glass of something he doesn't recognise but was fizzing and thus immediately alluring in hand.

He doesn't say anything. People usually talk if they want to.

[inquisitions_anchor]

It's the smell that gets her attention, and once that sinks in she blearily removes her hands from her eyes to see what the hell this is.

Oh.

Lemon cakes.

... Huh. She stares blankly at them for a few moments, and then at her hands, which are in no state to pick food up, after all that crying. Tears are still streaking down her face when she decides to look up to see where they came from.

And when she realizes it's Hawke, her eyes just well up with tears again. She opens her mouth to try to explain, but it doesn't really work and she just ends up choking on another sob. He might not be in a Circle, but... well, but he knows to stay out of them for a reason.

[fate_or_chance]

Hawke -- Hawke still has no idea what to do with crying people, or how to talk to them, but he's happy to stick around while she gets it all out.

In lieu of helpful advice, he offers: "If you feel like getting drunk, that helps. A little. For a while."

[inquisitions_anchor]

Right. That's the nice thing about Hawke.

He's great for laughs. Even if they're teary, grieving, helpless laughs of having no idea how to cope with anything right now, because everything is just too much. "'ll already have a headache," she manages. "Don't need another."

She knows what hangovers feel like (she's not supposed to but she totally does). And nope. Not what she wants right now. Plus she worries she'd get too drunk with how bad it all is, and then she'd throw up. She already kind of wants to do that anyway.

[fate_or_chance]

"If you ask me," Hawke says, very gravely, taking a lemon cake and dipping it in his fizzy drink, "the headaches are the best part."

This could probably be scientifically proven. Probably.

"Nothing stops you from thinking about things better than feeling like there's a dragon trying to break out of your skull."

But Evelyn seems to be having an easier time talking now, so he waits a few moments, nibbling on his cake -- and then: "What happened?"

[igetthatalot]

"Oh, oh."

Varric doesn't usually interfere much in the lives of strangers, but he's a soft touch at heart. Anybody who's crying in a tavern before they've started drinking is in a bad way. And yes, he knows what's going on behind those hands. You live in Kirkwall long enough, you learn what that kind of thing looks like.

He's just going to wave a rat over so that it'll be a little bit easier to come up to a stranger and say, "No offense or anything, but you look like you've had the kind of day that means you need a drink."

[inquisitions_anchor]

Evelyn looks up, confused--and that's a face in tears and snot, yeah she's a mess--and dimly remembers talking to the dwarf once before, although she cannot for the life of her remember his name. (She remembers the crossbow, though. She still wonders who uses a thing like that. Honestly.)

She... well, it's not quite a laugh, but maybe it's not quite a sob either.

"Pro'ly," she admits, sniffing. "Just wouldn't stop at one, though. Don't need th'headache."

Now that alcohol has been mentioned, the idea of just drinking into oblivion does not sound too bad, except for the awful side-effects she does not want.

[igetthatalot]

"I'm led to understand chasing the real drink with an equal amount of water and a piece of fruit cuts down on the headache part," says Varric, "but suit yourself. Do I want to know what happened, or is this the part where the random dwarf just pushes food in your general direction because he's not good at seeing people having a really bad day?"

[inquisitions_anchor]

Evelyn sniffles a little, just a few more times, trying to remember. "Are yo-- oh, no, you said Kirkwall." So a surface dwarf, so he'll actually know, like, anything.

She considers for a few moments, staring at her hands and trying to figure out what to do.

And then: "...Harrowings."

[igetthatalot]

"Shit."

No explanation necessary.

He's just going to go send the rat for a pile of food, because one way or another, one of them is going to need it to get through this.