howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

"More the sight of me with my shirt off doing something manly, but -- point taken."

Still laughing.

"Your first mistake," Cullen says, trying for stern, "was thinking taking your shirt off wasn't enough on its own."

"A simple man with simple tastes." Fond. "All right. Much easier to oblige that than go find a wyvern anyway."

"And less lethal." Dry. "Which serves as good justification for said simple tastes."

"True," he says. "I am against dying, just on general principle."

He finishes off the last of his fish.

Cullen, meanwhile, picks up some leftover woodsorrel and pops the leaves into his mouth: the sharp, sour flavor spreads over his tongue. But it's better than fish breath.

"Right. So. Where are we exploring?"

Alistair wipes off his hands on his trousers. "We could pick a direction and start walking until we can't any longer," he suggests. "Left or right?"

This is where Cullen's superior knowledge of the landscape will serve him well.

Trying to hide a smirk: "Left."

About half a mile away, there's a sheer wall of rock.

Alistair eyes Cullen with marked skepticism. He's planning something. Alistair can tell.

But he doesn't object to the choice. Once he's assembled a small pack -- precautionary provisions, a healing potion or two -- and strapped a dagger to his belt just in case, they turn left to begin their walk around the lake.

Ten minutes later:

"Cullen!"

(He's laughing at the sight of the wall, at least?)

Cullen leans up against the wall, arms folded, smirk decidedly more pronounced. "Yes?"

"Did you consider that maybe if you'd warned me," he manages, "I might've brought rope along as well?"

Which is precisely why Cullen didn't warn him!

But it's more fun to play innocent in a very obnoxious way. "For what purpose?"

"Making a decorative knot sculpture. Or, perhaps, climbing this."

He smacks a palm against the wall.

"The next time you tell me I work too much," Cullen says with some glee, "I'm reminding you of this moment, when we're taking less than a full day away from everything, and all you want to do is climb cliffs and wrestle wyverns."

Alistair scowls, playfully.

"For months I've been cooped up at Skyhold," he says. "Months. And now you won't let me run free. How do you sleep at night, ser."

"I have this pillow. Very comfortable, but has a tendency to run at the mouth."

He tsks, stepping closer to Cullen.

"And yet you continue taking it to bed with you."

"It's usually already in bed when I get there."

"And you've never thought to kick it out?"

He reaches up, gives one of Cullen's curls a light tug.

"Too much work," he says comfortably. "And unlike some, when I'm resting, I actually rest."

"Very fortunate for the pillow, then."

His smile's softened.

"Yes. One might think you could manage to follow its good example."

Alistair huffs out a laugh.

"All right. No more wrestling, no more climbing, not even any more swimming. Just a leisurely walk. Does that pass muster?"

"We have an accord." Serene, as he straightens. "And should the accord be violated, recall I know every inch of this land."

"Consider the warning noted," says Alistair, and leans in to give Cullen a peck on the lips. "Shall we go right, then, or is there another way around this?"