Cullen (
howtoactfereldan) wrote2017-10-23 10:14 pm
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You'll have to make a decision quickly. Either don't come home and meet me in Halamshiral, or come home and have a day or two before turning for Orlais. They've called an Exalted Council. Josephine, Lavellan, and I must speak for the Inquisition in front of Orlais, Ferelden, and Divine Victoria. Two of those parties appear to be hostile to our continued existence. I will leave it to you to contemplate which two.
Be safe, Alistair, and go with my love.
Cullen doesn't bother signing it.
The library is silent. No one is in the rotunda -- Solas's rotunda, he thinks, even after all this time. There are always people in the yard, but many fewer than before.
(It's downright lonely, when Alistair travels. Cullen will never complain to him. Not after the last few years.)
Be safe, Alistair, and go with my love.
Cullen doesn't bother signing it.
The library is silent. No one is in the rotunda -- Solas's rotunda, he thinks, even after all this time. There are always people in the yard, but many fewer than before.
(It's downright lonely, when Alistair travels. Cullen will never complain to him. Not after the last few years.)
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"All right." Softly. "We can do that."
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"In a moment," he murmurs. "You're a very nice pillow."
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Cullen's chest rises and falls beneath his head. He's feeling -- present again. Back in his own body, constrained by its boundaries. It's like remembering the existence of each limb after nearly losing them all in battle: there, one arm bunched a little awkwardly under himself as he keeps the other around Cullen; there, both legs touching his husband's. Here, the sound of birdsong. There, the scent of fresh air.
He breathes. In. Out. The coin shifts on its chain: another boundary.
"All right," he whispers at last, and begins the slow work of untangling himself from Cullen.
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"Where do you want to go?"
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"The water, I think." Lacing up his trousers, he glances back at Cullen with a warm smile. (It is exceedingly difficult not to throw his clothes aside and crawl back into bed at that sight.) "And a bookshop, if you'd like?"
Since Alistair is being so cruel as to haul Cullen out of bed when everyone else is resting.
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The urge to get back into bed? Not subsiding. Alistair compromises: he sets a knee on the mattress, bracing himself over Cullen with a smirk.
"Are you hiding a math treatise in your coat?"
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"You'll need it when we're on our walk." Beat. "Assuming we ever make it out of bed."
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Alistair lets Cullen tug him closer.
"Perhaps if someone were distracting me enough..."
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This has the unfortunate side effect of making him flex. Just a little bit.
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He can't resist sliding a hand up Cullen's chest to rest on his shoulder.
"Luring me out of the sunshine and back under the blankets."
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He brushes the backs of his fingers over Cullen's cheek; leans down so their faces are mere inches apart.
In a low murmur: "So there is. An astute observation."
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Cullen smiles up at Alistair, beatific.
"Your decision," is all he says.
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...The sun will be there later, Alistair decides. (If Solas brings down the sky on them, it won't happen just yet.)
"You're terrible," he says, with all due fondness, and closes the gap to kiss him deeply.