howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

(no subject)

Normally by this time of year there's been at least one storm coming in from the Waking Sea that breaks the humidity -- but no, Kirkwall is unseasonably humid. Because of course it is.

At any rate, that's why Cullen isn't wearing as much plate as he ought. That, and he's in the yard, out of sight of any civilians.

It helps him be faster, he tells himself. Mostly it's just miserable, and he's quite looking forward to plunging his head in a nearby rain barrel.

(It doesn't help that Cullen is currently losing handily. Though if truth be told -- and he'd never admit it -- it feels good to lose like this, winded as he is, muscles burning as they are.)

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"AAAAAHHH!"

Metal clashes against metal as Cassandra strikes hard, followed by a solid thump as she follows up with a shield bash.

Sparring is wonderful for relieving frustrations, and after another session with Varric Tethras, the Maker knows she's got plenty of frustration to work out.

And she is working it all out on Cullen, it appears. He's this close to being able to keep his footing -- two long steps back; he wasn't rooted solidly enough, his weight not where it should be -- if he can only manage to plant his foot well enough to spring back --

Then, of course, he lands on his heel, not the ball of his foot, and goes down hard on his back with a loud grunt. Sawdust flies into the air, motes swirling in the sunlight like cheap glitter confetti.

On his back, staring at the sky, Cullen hears a high, urgent bark. He points his practice sword at the shaded bench -- and the young mabari at attention there -- and wheezes, "Stay."

And, an afterthought, "I yield. Also."

Edited 2016-02-16 04:31 (UTC)

"Accepted."

She sheathes her sword, swings her shield to her back, and strides forward to offer him a hand up - with a quick glance at the dog, just in case.

Cassandra is not quite wheezing, but it's clear from the way she's sweating and the rapidity of her breathing that she put a good deal of effort into their bout. Her smile is bright and unfeigned.

"It was a good match. Thank you for indulging me."

Wry, as he accepts her hand and gets to his feet: "Thank you for indicating where I ought to be putting more of my attention."

Cullen tucks the practice blade under his arm and wipes his forehead with his sleeve. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to upend that barrel over my head while you're at it?"

She laughs.

"Only if you would be willing to return the favor."

"We'd have to refill it first." Shaking his head, Cullen heads for the bench, where in addition to the weapons rack and Ci the mabari there sit a few folded towels.

Sword and shield return to their proper place, and only then does Cullen reach for a towel. He drops onto the bench, heavy, slings the towel around his neck, and drops his hand heavy onto Ci's shoulder. "Well done, you," he tells her; she rests her chin on his knee --

-- and cuts dark eyes over to Cassandra, slightly accusing.

She stretches, working out sore muscles, and raises an eyebrow at the dog's look.

"I don't think she likes me."

Cullen laughs. "If she didn't like you, you'd know. This is just... her letting you know she knows you put me on the ground."

And looks down at Ci. "Remember? We like the Seeker."

Affirmative bark!

To Cassandra: "Though I expect she'd want me to inform you that she does take bribes."

"Does she."

Cassandra's lips twitch in a smile, although she attempts to look solemn.

"What sort of bribes?"

"Edible ones, I should think. Preferably meat, in great quantities."

She is a growing dog. Nutrition is very important.

"Something I do not have with me," she observes, and addresses her next remark to Ci.

"Another time. I promise."

Ci barks with good cheer and trots off to sniff at an interesting corner.

"If a mabari doesn't like you," Cullen tells her, "there's usually a great deal of growling." The next is muffled as he haphazardly wipes his face with the towel. "You're safe, for now."

"I am glad to hear it."

She shifts position again, this time unslinging her shield and leaning it against the bench before she resumes stretching.

"I do not know much about mabari," Cassandra confesses. "They are not as common in Nevarra as they are in Ferelden."

Or, really, as common anywhere in Thedas as they are in Ferelden, for that matter.

"They're much like any other dog in temperament -- only much better at comprehending and carrying out complex orders." A crooked smile, as he pulls his arm across his chest and holds it, stretching out his shoulder. "No doubt why we've got a reputation for being a little... simple. For all the rest of Thedas understands, we carry on one-sided conversations with common beasts."

She snorts, inelegantly.

"That depends on who you ask."

"Yes, yes, I'm aware," Cullen says comfortably, "the other half of them think the beasts are the more intelligent conversationalists."

Cassandra laughs.

"Vile calumny."

"I wouldn't repeat that opinion to any native of Kirkwall." Dry, as he keeps stretching. "Fereldans aren't well loved in the city."

She has been in Kirkwall long enough by now - and heard enough from Tethras, augmenting his written tales - to recognize the truth of this. Laughter gives way to a solemn expression.

"Yes, I have heard that."

There's a beat of silence, as she considers him.

"I would think it has made things ... difficult for you."

It's Cullen's turn to snort. "Hardly. Who could see past the armor? We're marked by our speech, but the Sword of Mercy is always louder."

Not to mention it's hard for people to try to shove you away if you don't get close to begin with.

"There is that," she agrees.

It's something the Right Hand of the Divine has reason to know full well.

"It's been far more difficult for those who came as refugees from the Blight."

Cullen watches Ci dig a hole in the corner. He'll fix it before they leave; it's not anywhere that will trip anyone up, so it can wait.

"But I'm sure the intelligence you've gathered has told you all you need to know of that."

"Perhaps not all."

She glances at his expression, then turns to watch the mabari as well. It's... politer, somehow.

"Although I would never tell Leliana that. Her scouts are very good."

"I can't imagine that's something she'd find relevant. Though if recruitment's something to think about, there's a woman in Lowtown who can put the word out."

"I think she would," Cassandra argues. "For many reasons."

She considers his suggestion, then raises her eyebrows and looks back at him.

"I would like to hear what you think."