howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

Cullen seems something close to adrift as he lets Alistair pull him inside. A plain jacket, now; he starts to struggle out of it.

"At Haven." Slow. Careful. "At the end -- I told her. The only choice left was how spitefully we ended it." He closes his eyes for a moment. "I hope she listened."

Alistair helps Cullen out of the jacket; when it's done, he takes Cullen's face in both hands, touching their foreheads together.

(It's an anchor point. It helps, a little.)

"I'm sure she did," he whispers. "She's -- " She was? No. Not yet. "The sort to take that advice."

Cullen swallows a despairing laugh. "Yes, dropping a mountain on her enemies certainly points in that direction."

Alistair cracks a tiny, humorless smile. It fades quickly.

"Wish dropping something heavy on the Anchor would work as well as that."

Cullen pulls away -- he's tired, he doesn't want to stay on his feet. He goes to the chaise instead, dropping down, giving Alistair a look somewhere between despairing and pleading.

His mouth twists into a wince. "Sorry," he says, low and bleak, and moves to join Cullen. "I don't -- I don't have anything to say."

He leans his shoulder against Cullen's.

"Except the obvious. This is horrid."

"I can't think." His shoulders are slumped, head down. "And I can't stop thinking."

Alistair nods, helpless. He curls an arm around Cullen's waist.

"Can I -- help you think about anything else? If you're going to think?"

He leans, heavy, against Alistair, turning in toward him.

"I don't know." Barely audible. "I -- what would you -- do you have a plan?"

"I don't think any of my usual plans will work, unfortunately." He runs his hand up and down Cullen's side, slow, comforting. "Just...know I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere. And I love you."

Cullen nods.

After a moment he picks up his legs and swings them over Alistair's lap, and settles in close, resting his head in the crook of Alistair's neck. It's childish. He doesn't care.

Very quietly:

"Don't let them leash me. If they make noise, like they assume I'll stay -- run with me?"

Say it.

"Don't let them give me..."

Without hesitation, Alistair wraps both arms around him. He listens -- and pulls in a quick breath.

"Never." With quiet fierceness. "We'll run as far as we need. Farther. I'll never let them do that to you, love -- I swear it."

"I've no idea what they'll do." Barely above a whisper. "What they think they can get away with. If it comes -- it will happen fast."

"I'll be ready, then."

He moves one hand enough to cup the back of Cullen's head.

"At a moment's notice. Packs for both of us and the quickest route to the stables. They will not leash you."

No louder, thin:

"You'll come for me?"

And thinking all the while: What will I do when he's gone?

"Yes." Firmly. "I promise. I'll come for you no matter what."

Cullen's shoulders hitch once. Twice.

He doesn't answer -- just curls in tighter.

"I've got you."

His tone gentles. He draws Cullen closer.

"Shh. I've got you. You're safe with me."

He's cold. Alistair is -- warm. Right now Cullen isn't convinced he'll ever be warm again.

His fingers curl into Alistair's shirt. "I'm sorry," he manages. "I should -- I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, love." He touches his lips to Cullen's hair. "You're all right. It's all right. Shhhh."

Unconsciously, he's begun rocking Cullen, just a little.

Small:

"What are we going to do?"

Alistair breathes out. Pushes down a despairing I don't know that threatens to bubble up.

"We're going to stay here for now." Quiet, and as steady as he can make it. "We can't do anything until we know what's going to happen. And once we do know...we'll decide. We'll run if we need to. I've some idea of safe places we can go -- I used them after Clarel exiled me."

A tiny, halfhearted smile.

"And they're not all as miserable as Crestwood. Promise."

Slowly Cullen loosens his grip on Alistair's shirt, and settles his head more comfortably on his shoulder.

If Alistair knows what to do... Cullen doesn't have to.

He smooths his fingers over the wrinkles he created in Alistair's shirt, and nods, a little.

"I've a rough idea of where Cousland is, too."

He smooths Cullen's hair: gentle, meditative.

"We'll narrow it down if need be. She'll always provide shelter if we need it, or know how to get us there."

"Rather be on the run with you than anyone else," he mumbles, eyes closing, nestling closer. "You're good at it."