Cullen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
howtoactfereldan) wrote2016-06-01 10:23 pm
howtoactfereldan) wrote2016-06-01 10:23 pm
(no subject)
Sometimes he feels faintly feverish; the feeling comes and goes. Sometimes his legs buckle from sudden stabbing pain, and sometimes his back spasms. But he hasn't been laid up from the lyrium withdrawal like he was when he decreased his dose too quickly and holed up in Milliways until he could function again.
The lack of sleep's beginning to get to him, though, or something is. It's harder and harder to control his reactions to things, to keep his mind from lingering too long in dark places. As far as he can tell from what he's read, that's normal for this process.
What's worst are the nightmares. He'd thought he slept poorly before. Now -- now there's a vividness, a depth to what he sees in the Fade that he hasn't felt since they sent him away from Kinloch, shortly after the Circle fell, to "level out." That's what they called it when they called him 'snappish,' when they accused him of 'jumping at shadows.'
Cullen's taken to keeping a separate basin in his room for those occasions when he wakes and is then sick shortly thereafter.
The third consecutive night this happens, he rinses his mouth, sits on the edge of his bed, and presses the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. It would be easier to forget this mad plan, to take the lyrium and damn the consequences. Those who live by the sword frequently die by it; he was never too likely to have a long life, and if the Chantry (not to mention all of Thedas) continues this slide into dysfunctional madness, any Inquisition won't serve his lifespan better than the Templar Order. Wouldn't it be better, a voice within him whispers, to be able to leash magic to his full potential? To know he was as powerful as is possible? Doesn't he want to forget everything he's seen, anyhow?
At his feet, Ci whines, and presses herself against his leg.
Cullen breathes out, ruffles her ear with one hand, and wipes the wetness from his eyes with the other.
jackbootJudex began trolling amaranthineIdeopraxist
JJ: Ysa?
JJ: Are you there?
The lack of sleep's beginning to get to him, though, or something is. It's harder and harder to control his reactions to things, to keep his mind from lingering too long in dark places. As far as he can tell from what he's read, that's normal for this process.
What's worst are the nightmares. He'd thought he slept poorly before. Now -- now there's a vividness, a depth to what he sees in the Fade that he hasn't felt since they sent him away from Kinloch, shortly after the Circle fell, to "level out." That's what they called it when they called him 'snappish,' when they accused him of 'jumping at shadows.'
Cullen's taken to keeping a separate basin in his room for those occasions when he wakes and is then sick shortly thereafter.
The third consecutive night this happens, he rinses his mouth, sits on the edge of his bed, and presses the heels of his hands hard into his eyes. It would be easier to forget this mad plan, to take the lyrium and damn the consequences. Those who live by the sword frequently die by it; he was never too likely to have a long life, and if the Chantry (not to mention all of Thedas) continues this slide into dysfunctional madness, any Inquisition won't serve his lifespan better than the Templar Order. Wouldn't it be better, a voice within him whispers, to be able to leash magic to his full potential? To know he was as powerful as is possible? Doesn't he want to forget everything he's seen, anyhow?
At his feet, Ci whines, and presses herself against his leg.
Cullen breathes out, ruffles her ear with one hand, and wipes the wetness from his eyes with the other.
jackbootJudex began trolling amaranthineIdeopraxist
JJ: Ysa?
JJ: Are you there?
no subject
JJ: Speaking of which.
JJ: I should let you get back to work.
JJ: Thank you for indulging me.
That's what he'll call it.
no subject
CAI: Or I will, anyway.
CAI: Good night, Cullen
CAI: Give Ci a cuddle for me
no subject
JJ: Good night.
jackbootJudex signed off.