[There's a package left on the front step of Anders' and Nathaniel's house. A small brown paper sack containing a package of tea, a can of chicken noodle soup, a box of tissues, and a box of decongestant medicine. A torn-off piece of paper is inside, a short note written on it:]
[Cole asked a lot of questions? Cole asked a lot of questions about which medicine was right for Nathaniel? Cole went to the apothecary and asked a lot of questions about what was right for Nathaniel...?
Nathaniel has to shut down for a second, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
For the first thirty years of his life, sickness and injury were considered learning experiences, fire to temper steel. Nobody was allowed to baby him and he would have been mocked for needing it. Even Adria wasn't permitted, though she tried once or twice. Delilah was more prone to it lately, but that was understandable. They were family, and family is the most important thing. They were also the last remaining survivors of the Howes. Of course Delilah wouldn't want to be left alone if something were to happen to Nathaniel, and they have always been very close. That, he can accept. That Delilah, his sister, loves him. Because it's him and Delilah, and they have something nobody else would understand. And even she limits her fussing to peeking in on him and nagging him to drink and eat more, because she grew up with the same rules. She knows not to imply he needs to be babied, even though she loves him enough to baby him. She knows the code.
But the moment Nathaniel gets a cold, three people who aren't even related to him leap into action like he's dying. Revas, Anders, and now Cole of all people. There are no blood ties to make them obliged to care for him, and he's not even on duty as a Warden. There is no possible reason for them to do this except that he has inherent value to them. And it's not as a noble, as a Howe, or as a Warden. It's as Nathaniel that he is valuable to them. And Nathaniel is not useful. Nathaniel is not necessary. But they still value him.
He's silent for some time, trying to figure out if he should try processing this dizzying impossible fact now or shove it aside for later, or even just dismiss it all as garbage and go back to thinking life makes sense. He takes a deep breath, thinking he should speak, at least.]
That's...you didn't have to do that, Cole.
[That sounds like a rebuke, and he doesn't mean it that way. Shit. This is why he shouldn't be inherently valuable to anyone, he's just going to disappoint them when they find out they have a rock instead of a diamond.]
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[Delivery]
In case you are still sick.
[voice]
Thank you for the gifts, Cole. I'm feeling much better.
[voice]
[voice]
Nathaniel has to shut down for a second, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
For the first thirty years of his life, sickness and injury were considered learning experiences, fire to temper steel. Nobody was allowed to baby him and he would have been mocked for needing it. Even Adria wasn't permitted, though she tried once or twice. Delilah was more prone to it lately, but that was understandable. They were family, and family is the most important thing. They were also the last remaining survivors of the Howes. Of course Delilah wouldn't want to be left alone if something were to happen to Nathaniel, and they have always been very close. That, he can accept. That Delilah, his sister, loves him. Because it's him and Delilah, and they have something nobody else would understand. And even she limits her fussing to peeking in on him and nagging him to drink and eat more, because she grew up with the same rules. She knows not to imply he needs to be babied, even though she loves him enough to baby him. She knows the code.
But the moment Nathaniel gets a cold, three people who aren't even related to him leap into action like he's dying. Revas, Anders, and now Cole of all people. There are no blood ties to make them obliged to care for him, and he's not even on duty as a Warden. There is no possible reason for them to do this except that he has inherent value to them. And it's not as a noble, as a Howe, or as a Warden. It's as Nathaniel that he is valuable to them. And Nathaniel is not useful. Nathaniel is not necessary. But they still value him.
He's silent for some time, trying to figure out if he should try processing this dizzying impossible fact now or shove it aside for later, or even just dismiss it all as garbage and go back to thinking life makes sense. He takes a deep breath, thinking he should speak, at least.]
That's...you didn't have to do that, Cole.
[That sounds like a rebuke, and he doesn't mean it that way. Shit. This is why he shouldn't be inherently valuable to anyone, he's just going to disappoint them when they find out they have a rock instead of a diamond.]
[voice]
Really, really glad.]
I wanted to make sure it would help. There are dozens of boxes that all claim to do different things. They don't even have Elfroot.
[voice]
They have other medicines that bring down a fever. They've done pretty well. But that tea you gave me is very good. Helps clear things up.
[voice]
[The sickness that Nate fell ill with could have been so much more dangerous if they were back in Thedas.]
Then your health is improving? Your voice sounds... different.
[voice]
Much better. Nothing to worry about.
[He'd been a lot sicker than he thought when he'd been sent home from work. Speaking of.]
I'm even getting paid for the days I'm not working after all.
[voice]
[Don't want him to tire out his voice, after all.]