howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

"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?"

"Right is better."

The way around it involves coming a little too close to where the farm used to be for Cullen's liking. "I'll follow you, o great explorer."

He grins. "Off we go, then."

Retracing their steps will be more expedient than trying to break new ground. They pass their campsite, continue onward; trees lace their branches together overhead, enveloping them in the quiet susurrus of untamed land.

Some minutes later, Alistair takes Cullen's hand.

Cullen gives him a crooked, warm smile, and laces their fingers together.

"I want you to tell me everything," says Alistair with a soft laugh. It's faintly self-deprecating, like he's asking Cullen to bring him a bouquet of phoenix feathers: something ridiculous. Insurmountable. "About all this."

He knows Cullen won't. But there's no harm in wishing.

More like can't. How could Cullen convey it?

"An example might help." Still with that same smile. "I mean -- there's not much. I came here when I wanted quiet, and they always found me eventually. Sometimes I fished. I swam in summer -- enough to find out about the eels. And when I was thirteen, I left."

"The eels didn't bite you, did they?"

He squeezes Cullen's hand.

"No -- that would have been better." Wry. "They merely indicated their presence, so I was left to imagine the size of their teeth."

Alistair gives a theatrical shudder.

"Was that the worst thing you found in the lake?"

"No leeches," he says promptly. "So -- yes. Eels."

"Potentially man-eating eels, but," loftily, "I suppose it could have been worse."

Seriously, leeches are gross. Alistair can never look whenever the surgeon pulls out the leeches.

"...what were you expecting?"

"Well, as you said -- leeches."

He makes a face.

"Or gurguts. Something out of a scary story, where you're swimming along without a care in the world until a monster grabs your foot."

"You seem to be forgetting, Alistair, that I was a very brave and noble child, and my faith and courage would protect me from gurguts, who do not swim."

"No, they just sit there on the shoreline and wait, drooling, until you're forced to return."

Beat.

"Though yes, I don't doubt your bravery and nobility one bit."

"Then you should recognize that I would obviously defeat any waiting gurguts and then get home in time for dinner."

"Obviously," says Alistair, laughing. "My apologies for ever thinking otherwise, Commander."

"Especially given that you knew me."

"I knew you from thirteen onward," he protests. "You could've changed dramatically on your thirteenth birthday for all I know."

Cullen stops walking.

Arches an eyebrow.

"You think?"

As straight-faced as he can manage:

"I can definitely imagine you gallivanting around with the Dalish and rejecting the Maker's teachings at age twelve. Definitely."

Cullen raises his other eyebrow.