(no subject)

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen is fine in the field. He can set up a tent, build a fire, find water safe to drink, make something edible. But he hasn't traveled enough to get the knack of what's wise to bring.

These days it makes little difference, given his status: he helps to set up camp, but there are runners and adjutants to find and fetch things. And there are few enough of them, this time -- not the massed force of the Inquisition, but a patrol's worth of soldiers and scouts and accompanying support -- that in the evenings, Cullen finds himself... restless.

It's akin to the reason he doesn't frequent the Herald's Rest, but there's no office to hide in, and no paperwork to justify staying in the tent.

At least tomorrow he and Alistair will peel off to where Honnleath used to be, to spend the night and rejoin the rest again late the following day.

(This may also contribute to his fidgeting.)

Comments

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair squints suspiciously at Cullen.

"You say this like it's a given."

[howtoactfereldan]

"You're the one who said you cheerfully walk into traps."

[bringspeopletogether]

"To be fair, that usually results in things like fire and arrows taking us by surprise, not a sprained ankle."

It's important to be accurate about these things!

[howtoactfereldan]

"Perhaps, but we're going to have a much more pleasant journey than that."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Maker only hopes."

His smile goes a touch lopsided.

"May only very minor things go wrong, good nights be had, and no gurguts fall from the trees."

[howtoactfereldan]

"From your lips to Andraste's ears."

And with that, Cullen spurs his horse forward. The sooner they're there, the sooner he can see how those tree camps are working out.