His stomach drops. Alistair feels a cold, sick chill as the blood leaves his face.
He takes a breath in; releases it, slowly, and tightens his embrace in kind.
You can't ask me to do that, is his first thought, and one he absolutely cannot speak aloud. Not with Cullen in this state. But -- he's turned his back on so much of the Wardens. He broke his oath in countless ways since he decided to follow the Inquisition instead of Weisshaupt. The Calling will be his last chance to hold up a tiny sliver of the vow he made during his Joining: in death, sacrifice.
He's known he will die in battle for fifteen years. To die in his bed instead, by his own hand, even if he isn't alone in the dark --
"I." Helplessly. (He can't say any of this to Cullen.) "Let me -- think about it?"
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He takes a breath in; releases it, slowly, and tightens his embrace in kind.
You can't ask me to do that, is his first thought, and one he absolutely cannot speak aloud. Not with Cullen in this state. But -- he's turned his back on so much of the Wardens. He broke his oath in countless ways since he decided to follow the Inquisition instead of Weisshaupt. The Calling will be his last chance to hold up a tiny sliver of the vow he made during his Joining: in death, sacrifice.
He's known he will die in battle for fifteen years. To die in his bed instead, by his own hand, even if he isn't alone in the dark --
"I." Helplessly. (He can't say any of this to Cullen.) "Let me -- think about it?"