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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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."

Cullen gives her an even look in return. "Guard-Captain Aveline is a former officer in King Cailan's army. A veteran of Ostagar. She's not alone. More soldiers and fewer officers, certainly, but I'd be willing to bet there are trained blades with few or no ties to the city who would be glad for the opportunity to serve."

And the square meals to go with it.

"Then we should give them that opportunity," she replies, unperturbed by his look.

"I asked your opinion because I wish to hear your judgment, Cullen, not because I doubt your people."

Cullen pinks, a little, and looks away.

With matter-of-factness he doesn't feel: "It will take me some time to get used to that."

"I will remind you, when needed."

She turns her attention back to the young mabari.

"I am not good at dissembling. Knowing that may help. Although I doubt that it is any surprise to you."

Or to anyone who's ever met her.

Ci trots up to Cassandra and sits on her haunches, regarding the Seeker with some curiosity.

"I -- no. Not really."

Cullen doesn't hold out much hope that it'll help at all.

Perhaps they should go back to hitting each other, despite the heat? Cullen might like that.

She hesitates - visibly - but then crouches down and holds our her hand for Ci to sniff.

That is the universal dog signal that the person with the hand really wants it licked. Let's hope Cassandra is okay with that.

Cullen rubs the back of his neck. His headache's coming back. Maybe they should go back to hitting each other.

She appears to be. After a moment, she raises her hand to scratch the young mabari's ears.

"Good girl."

Cassandra glances up at Cullen.

"Does she keep you in line, or is it the other way around?"

His eyes are closed, his posture straight -- it helps, a little. Or prevents it from getting worse.

"She's well on her way to becoming a proper war hound, at which point yes, she keeps me in line."

"I see."

A moment's silence. Although she keeps petting Ci, Cassandra's attention is on Cullen.

"Headache again?"

Ci is very helpful, angling her head to indicate the very best places to scratch.

"It's fine."

Cullen, less helpful.

"Maybe I should dump the barrel over your head after all."

She gives Ci a final pet, then stands.

Cullen snorts, one eye cracking open. "Should you find that therapeutic, far be it from me to stop you."

"I will keep it in mind. Although I would not want you to rust."

Cassandra looks around the training yard, then gives a sharp nod, as if coming to some conclusion.

"What you said before has me thinking. I should know more of Kirkwall, should see it beyond these walls and those of the estate with my own eyes. Will you show me?"

There are a few things that Cassandra could have said that might surprise him more, but given that she wants him to command the forces of this Inquisition or whatever it is, he probably shouldn't underestimate what she can come up with.

"Of course -- though you'd still be seeing it with a templar, which makes a difference." He looks at her. "I expect we'd see less of the Carta or the Coterie than you might if you chose a different guide."

"Another time, perhaps."

Leliana would have some recommendations in that regard, she is sure. Besides, she has more than one reason for asking this of him.

"If you do not mind, that is."

"Not at all," he says. "I've no desire to run into either group. Or cultists," he adds, as an afterthought. "When did you want to go? I've time today, though I can rearrange my schedule with enough notice."

"I see no reason to delay," she informs him. "Today will do well."

He'd expected as much.

Cullen glances briefly at the sky, to check the sun (and winces, a little, at the light); he looks down at Ci, who is currently happily wriggling on her back in the sawdust (and smiles, a little, despite himself).

"I'll meet you outside the viscount's office at the next bell?"

He doesn't leave in anything other than full armor, and he'd like a chance to wipe off some of the humidity-induced fug.