Stories in the Ink

Dandelions Never Lie

"Cole?...Why are we out here?" Solona questioned, the pair in the courtyard of Skyhold. The young mage had appeared flustered at the rogue's urgency to follow him, though at this point was unsure as to why he was so urgent in a matter.

"The flowers want to you to remember. A young girl's face felt alight by the summer's sun, sweltering as Mother walks to a field of dancing gold to and fro, glimmering and glistening within the gale." Cole sputtered as he spoke, the crisp wind gently blowing as the sun's rays poured upon the ground. The mountains were far from hot at this elevation, yet the magic within the ancient fortress appeared to keep the temperature rather mild in degree.

"Oh. My mother used to tell me dandelions never lie. Though I don't remember what that means. If that's what you want to help me with." The girl spoke, assuming that was what had spilled from their conversation some days ago. If not, she was at a loss.

"Your mother remembers. She would want you to. She remembers through the dandelions. You can remember through the flowers too, if you try." The young man stated, taking the time to sit just underneath the great stone walls of the battlements, several of the aforementioned flora nestled within the grasses.

"I'm not sure how to remember through a flower." Solona muttered, taking the time to sit beside him, the cool yet strong stone digging into her back in jagged chips. Her oceanic eyes had scanned the soft blue skies that were dotted with wisps of clouds, the rays of fire in the sky harming her eyes, and preventing her from looking at the heavens for too long.

Slowly, the fragile hand of the woman had outstretched towards the skies, Solona giggling softly, "It is so strange. When I look up at the sky, it looks as if the clouds are just above my head. But when I reach up, the clouds are far too high up for me to reach them. I wonder if the puffy ones feel like cotton? They always seemed soft to me."

"Like the Black City in the Fade. Yes. Always there, always so close you can almost touch it, but so far away." Cole spoke, leaning over to gingerly pluck a yellowed dandelion from the ground, Solona now watching his actions in curiosity.

"You worry that your mother doesn't love you, fret about what you could have been to your parents. You are afraid that if you think about the daughter they could have had rather than the one they remember, that they won't love you anymore. But that isn't true, Solona. Your parents love you, they miss you, and their love is in the flowers. But the knots are tied so tight that you forget, can't remember. Their love is in the dandelion, but you forget how the open yourself to their love. You can remember, remember how you did as a little girl, how they loved you then-and still love you. You just have to listen to what the flower says." The young man's voice drifted into the wind, calm and steady as the flower twirled between his thumb and pointer.

Solona's brow furrowed in concern as a frown creased her features, "How do I listen to the flower?"

"Do you love your mother and father?" Cole questioned, the girl nodding.

"Of course I do. Why?"

"Do you think your parents still love you, Solona?" The young man continued to pry, the young woman pausing in thought, brain wracking.

"I...think so? I would hope so. They haven't seen who I have become, or what I have done. They just know I am a mage, and possibly not even alive." She cleared her throat, freezing as she felt a wrapped knuckle gently press under her chin, Cole pushing her head slightly upward, body leaning forward to do so.

"Stay still." He had murmured softly, almost cooing as he raised the cheerful dandelion just under her chin, Solona confused, though stifled a laugh as the thin, finger like petals licked her flesh.

"C-Cole...th...that tickles! Maker, what are you doing?" Solona asked, laughter bubbling from her belly. It took her several seconds to notice the tiny shard of a mirror the odd boy had produced from his pocket-or she had assumed-and the reflection had turned her eyes white, for they had shown a memory she had long since forgotten.

"...Cole? Wha..." She questioned, dumbfounded, "How did you..."

"Dandelions never lie, Solona. Your mother knew that. She passed it onto you, but you forgot." Cole spoke, voice gentle, Solona's eyes unable to break away from the cheery flower turning her chin a mustard hue, even without the reflection of the sun, for the pair lay in the shade, "Now you remember what you have forgotten, hope restored and faith renewed. Your parents love you, Solona. Their love is in the dandelions. They send their love through the flowers to you. That's why there are so many dandelions here. Their love follows you and makes them grow. You never left your parents, Solona. You just forgot that you never left them. And now, you are together, connected through love. You, your parents, and the flowers, together like you all used to be."

"I...I think I see. I remember now! I remember why Mother always said that phrase! I forgot, but now...now I remember." The young mage had smiled, though it was sullen and sorrowful as much as relieved and joyful, Cole slowly beckoning the yellow weed from her chin, "But...you almost make it sound..."

She had paused, lips trembling involuntarily, "Cole...if-if they are the dandelions...are they...dead?" Solona asked, voice quavering as her eyes looked upon his through heavy bangs.

"They loved you, Solona. Still love you. That's...all that matters." Cole answered, finding himself unsure of what to say, unsure if he could make the hurt the go away.

"O...Oh. I...um...I see." The girl had frowned, clearing her throat as her face began to flush from the emotional turmoil. Cole's lips had lightly formed into a frown as he saw the mage try in vain to shield her watering eyes with her hair and hands, the floodgates breaking as she began to sob, if ever so quietly.

"I'm sorry they died." Cole apologized softly, unsure how to stop the stabbing hurts as her shoulders shook and rocked her tiny frame. Hesitantly, his hand snaked towards her own, cautious, and almost shy as their fingers lightly touched, dancing from tip to tip, flesh brushing flesh. When she did not pull away, Cole slowly wrapped his hand around hers, hoping to give her some form of comfort-if only so small.

Solona's small hand was shaking from her pain, palm drenched in sweat, though he did not release his hold. If anything, it appeared to rebuff the young man's efforts at comfort, his hand now enveloping hers firmly yet gently. For several minutes the pair had sat there, Cole patiently awaiting for her to calm, Solona's sobs subsiding, pain dulling.

Solona took the time to wipe her tears, eyes red rimmed before using her free hand to brush stray strands behind her ears, voice weak and faltering, "I...I'm..sorry."

"Don't be sorry. It's okay." Cole replied, the girl calming at his voice.

"Thank you, Cole. I-oh. You...you can let go of my hand now, please." The mage stammered, slowly realizing that their hands were still interlocked.

"Oh. Sorry." The boy mumbled, beckoning his hand back, Solona producing a weak smile.

"Your hand is cold. But mine is...sweaty and gross." She laughed, face now flushing more from embarrassment, though it was something the young man seemed to fail to notice, "But...thank you. Thank you for helping me remember."

"You are welcome. I am glad to help."