howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

(no subject)

Since the Starkhaven templars arrived, they -- Cullen and Rylen -- have been working out of the viscount's old offices. Drinking and cards at night, business in the day. And now that Cullen's handed over his share of the operations, he's moved from the seneschal's office to the small, comfortable armchair and end table in the vestibule.

Ci sleeps at his feet. Cullen is going through the bookkeeping, one last time. Rylen and Merial know what they're doing, but the very least he can do is make sure the ledgers reconcile with each other and with the reports that have gone to the Spire for the last five years.

He might have forgotten to eat lunch? Whatever, numbers are great. And since he's in what he's now thinking of as his civilian uniform -- the armor he'd got from Wade and Herren in Amaranthine, with Ysalwen -- anybody looking for a templar just passes right over him. Cullen would be lying if he said he didn't find some satisfaction in that.

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Cullen glances at Liranan, and again to Cassandra. "You've hit on the best way to make friends with mabari, though I'm afraid that means they tend to demand equitable treatment."

His attention wanders to the ledgers... and to Ysa. "I'm -- not sure. Cassandra, did you have something in mind...?"

Surely if Cassandra went to the trouble of getting Ysalwen here, she has a plan? Otherwise it's cards and insisting that Ysa not wander the city alone.

"Of course they do."

It's mild, however, and she offers the remark as she gets out another treat for Liranan.

"Yes, you're a good mabari."

Her gaze narrows slightly as she considers Ysalwen and Cullen.

"I would not want to impose..."

Ysalwen huffs out a breath.

"Please let's not get into a war of politeness. I'm going to lose, and it will be embarrassing and awkward for everyone."

She flashes a smile, quick and crooked.

"If there's something I can help with, honestly, I'd be glad to. I'm a little -- hmm -- unable to help with Kirkwall at home, much, and it -- grates."

Though --

"The other option might be lightening the hearts of your troops via playing with mabari in public, which. Well."

Ysalwen would not lose a war of politeness. Cullen would. Intentionally. Flagrantly.

(As a general rule, Cullen does not care for surprises. This preference only solidified over the course of his adult life.)

"It would only stir up more anti-Fereldan resentment," Cullen says, dry. "So, again: Cassandra? Did you have something in mind?"

"Well. Yes."

She has never been spectacularly good at dissembling.

"Two things. One is - it is because of something that you said," she tells Ysalwen. "About setting an example."

"The other is something that I learned in ... talking," Cassandra settles on, realizing that she does not know if the other woman has any sort of connection to Varric Tethras in the world she is from. "To someone who knows this city well. There is a place, in Darktown. Or under it. And there is something wrong there."

Ysalwen's eyebrows head toward her hairline.

"Other than the usual disease and despair? Is it a weak point in the Fade? Because I can tell you I don't feel any darkspawn anywhere nearby."

"No. It is something different, I think."

Her glance goes to Cullen.

"It feels wrong, from what I am told."

And there are certain types of sensitivities that not everyone has, after all.

Cullen shrugs a little. "We don't patrol Darktown," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "The guard doesn't, either. The Veil is thin everywhere, around here. It would take something... notable, let's say, to stand out like that."

"Well. What are we standing around here for? Tell me more about it on the way."

Um.

"If you please."

Cullen snorts.

"If you can wait a moment, I might like to fetch my sword."

The sound Cassandra makes is suspiciously amused.

Ysalwen tsks.

"Nathaniel would never have been caught so unprepared."

Then she coughs.

"Wait, no, I take it back. He definitely would."

Already heading toward his quarters:

"Would you like to fill Cassandra in on the lengthy list of Nathaniel's faults which I've enumerated at length, beginning with that pox on his face?"

Horrible, horrible smug grin.

"Back in a moment."

Cassandra gives Ysalwen a curious look.

"Dare I ask?"

"He's my second. One of the Howes."

Ysalwen's mouth twitches.

"He came to Amaranthine to murder me and -- stayed as a Warden and my second. His choice in facial hair is a bit -- um. Suspect."

That's the first thing.

"Cullen's second least favorite thing about him is his early behavior in the training yard . . . . "

She can go on, and will. A ten minute diatribe reflecting Cullen's opinions is easy.

Edited 2016-06-24 03:55 (UTC)

"You didn't forget the part where he fraternizes within the ranks even though you don't do formal inspection, I hope?"

Cullen does not quite swagger back with his sword buckled on and his helmet under his arm (and a full arsenal of potions and a grenade or two on his belt).

But he does seem... rather cheerful.

"We leave at your word, Warden-Commander." And cheeky.

(Oh boy, they're going to stab something that probably doesn't have a family or dependents!)

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