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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"I wonder if we could even manage to leave tomorrow," he muses.
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"I've no objection," he says. Glancing down at the mabari, "What about you? Want to leave this wretched city tomorrow for somewhere far more civilized?"
The dog's stubby tail pinwheels in glee.
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"But you could. If you wanted."
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A beat.
"I could be in favor of taking our new friend back to our quarters to settle in, though."
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He squeezes Cullen gently.
"And you may consider me successfully indulged. Come on, love."
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Softly, he says, "It'll be better once we're not... surrounded by people. At Skyhold. And after."
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"Can I do anything in the meantime?" he asks. "Besides chase away any callers?"
They begin the walk back to their quarters, the mabari joyfully trotting among at their heels. So what if he's not allowed into this "bedroom" place? HE'S STILL GOT NEW FRIENDS.
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"I'm fine." Still soft. "Besides -- you've got someone to look after."
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"I'm fine," he says again, helplessly. "Please."
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"All right," he says, no louder. Staying quiet the rest of the way back to their house seems prudent: Alistair doesn't say anything else, but neither does he pull away.
(He feels -- unsteady again. Unsure. Perhaps he hasn't regained as much of his balance as he thought, after the nightmare knocked him askew.)
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He needs space. Space to think. To react. Everything's changing out from under him. There's something else for Alistair's focus.
Thank the Maker for that.
"I'm -- going to lie down," Cullen says hesitantly as they enter their quarters. "I need... some time alone. Please?"
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The dog circles Alistair's feet; thumps his hindquarters against the ground, gazing up at him. Alistair stretches a hand down to scratch the mabari behind the ears.
"I'll be here." He chances another tiny, lopsided smile. "Rest well."
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"I'll try." Beat. "Let's avoid fleas on the furniture?" His turn for a tiny smile as he nods to the mabari.
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Alistair leans to peck Cullen on the cheek.
"I'll give him another to be safe." When that gets an alarmed whine from the mabari, Alistair corrects himself: "Or I'll just keep him off the furniture?"
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The mabari barks agreement.
Lifting his chin toward the bedroom, Alistair adds, "Go enjoy your lie-down. I love you."
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Boots off.
He sits at the foot of the bed with his face in his hands, silently shaking.
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"Yes. I agree," he says, putting on a deliberately cheery tone. "We should find a few good toys for you that won't shatter anything when we both start galumphing about."
OH BOY. The mabari barks again, dancing in place with anticipation.
"Come on, then," says Alistair, and leads him along to find a good stick or a length of rope somewhere in the house.
Once they've had a few good rounds of tug-of-war -- well out of earshot of the bedroom -- Alistair murmurs to the mabari, Cullen may grumble sometimes, but he means well. He's a kind man at heart. Don't hold it against him, yes?
Somehow, the mabari manages to bark sotto voce, which sounds like a localized rumble of thunder deep in his chest.
Good boy.
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