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[cozen]

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[cozen]

Bastien nods to himself, storing the question for later–it'd be diplomatic! Look, Provisional Viscount, at what good and helpful guests they are!—and moving on.

"Were you able to paint and bake in the Circle? Or are they things you have started more recently?"

[keenly]

"Painting, I started more recently. When I first arrived here, I met this elf named Cyril who started me drawing, then Lady Alexandrie taught me painting. My mother taught me how to cook, though. I was able to do that in the Circle, the Tranquil didn't really mind. Got me through some hard times."

[cozen]

He doesn't need to ask what the hard times were, at least. Not that he would either way. Tell me about your misery isn't generally how he goes about making friends, when that misery isn't handed to him in a letter.

"I would not have guessed you started so recently." Painting, obviously. "I asked Benedict Artemaeus to help me add some color to the dining hall—maybe you could help, too? If he wouldn't mind. I think he wants to do a mural, but we could hang up some things, too, so you could paint without having to be here for it."

[keenly]

"...I'd actually love that," Colin says with a shy smile. "Especially if it was a mural. It would be...reclaiming it. Even though I wasn't kept here, I'd be a Circle mage doing that."

[cozen]

"Great. I will talk to him and see what he thinks. But even if he already has everything planned and does not want to collaborate, it is a big room. I am sure there is space for both of you."

[keenly]

"Oh, we, um. Get along. We're friends. I'd take his lead anyway, he's the real artist. And we sometimes paint together already. So it's. We'll see."

[cozen]

"Ah, that is perfect, then."

Down the stairs, out into the daylight, to the extent Kirkwall's hazy skies can ever count as daylight. (They count. He's just a sky snob.)

"I'm glad he has friends. I know we are at war and he's been a bit of an idiot about it, but it must be hard to give up your people and family this way."

[keenly]

"It is." That much is plain to see. It's not far from here to the ferry. "I was there the night he thought he was going to be executed. They didn't tell him he wouldn't be until morning. I couldn't just...let him spend that time alone. Hardly anyone cares about him, and no one important likes that I care, even when it's my job. So I can't help but...just...want to make up for all the lack of caring he's always had, and not just here."

[cozen]

"That's very kind of you," Bastien says, and breaks to talk for a moment with the ferryman, who's been milling around.

Of course he's delighted to receive a snack—in a gruff old rower sort of way—and Bastien makes sure Colin gets all the credit he's due for it before they're settled in the rowboat.

"You are a healer, right? Did you choose it? Or is what you were best at so you—you know." A gesture meant to stand in for the concept of falling into a profession without much choice.

[keenly]

It takes Colin a second to understand.

"I ssssort of fell into it," he allows, "but now I'd choose it. Cooking's an art, it's how I express myself, it's how I show people I care, but healing's more sacred than that. It's like a calling. If I did it to the end of my days, my only regret would be that I didn't start sooner."

[cozen]

Bastien pauses smiling at the water beside the boat to smile more directly at Colin. Charming.

“Who was your first patient?”

[keenly]

Colin's face lights up. "A woman in Darktown with a baby being born arse-first. That baby is now two years old and the parents have gotten out of Darktown."

[cozen]

“Aw, you are still in touch?”

Maybe that isn’t uncommon. He doesn’t know.

[keenly]

"Not since they got out, no. But the baby would be two by now."

[cozen]

"Ah, well. That is very sweet. And good for them that you could help. Maybe when the baby is older, they will tell stories about you."

[keenly]

"How many stories do you know about whoever delivered you?" Colin asks skeptically.

[cozen]

“He was my father,” Bastien says, “so one or two. But d’accord—maybe they will tell one story, singular, especially if it was a dramatic birth? Mothers like to tell children about that. Remind them what they went through to get them here.”

[keenly]

Colin shifts, looking embarrassed.

"I don't, um, I don't like thinking about that. I get nervous when people talk about me. I get nervous talking about myself."

[cozen]

Bastien leans over the edge of the boat to look at the water and doesn’t say you’ve been doing a fine job so far, because he has a weird feeling that would just make the lad self-conscious.

“I am sure you will be a minor character, in the background behind the mother’s labor pains and the father’s panic—but a good one. And the baby will grow up knowing a mage was good to them—perhaps? It was magic, yes?”

[keenly]

That seems to put him more at ease.

"There was some, yes. The people of Darktown are pretty used to mage healers at this point. That clinic's been open for about fifteen years now, always staffed by a mage. They don't really ask questions once they've seen you save a life."

Colin doesn't say the name of the mage who opened it, who trained him and left the clinic in his hands. Doesn't seem like a good idea.

[cozen]

“That’s a long time. That’s interesting. What is it like? A typical day, I mean—would you be there alone? Do a lot of people come?”

[keenly]

"Sister Sara helps! Sometimes Lady Rutyer, too. A lot of people come because everyone's always sick, with the chokedamp and poverty combined. You know, this is the most I've ever talked about myself in a single conversation."

[cozen]

“Really? Have you always been shy?” Bastien asks, but this time with a little smile—it’s a joke.

Sort of.

He’d still take an answer.

[keenly]

"Yes. ...But Athessa told me if I want to make more friends than I lose, I have to talk about myself."

Who knew?

[cozen]

“It does help,” Bastien says.