howtoactfereldan | (no subject)

(no subject)

When Cullen comes across the body, as he hikes in from the north, he gets the message immediately: this is not a place where he can reveal himself.

In the rain, oiled hood pulled over his head, Cullen crouches by the corpse. Female. Elven, he thinks. Circle robes. No one he recognizes. Probably came to Kinloch after the Blight. Five or six arrow shafts still in her chest.

In this weather, it's hard to get anything to burn. Even with magic. The best he can do is hope a wandering demon won't decide to take possession -- undead are one thing. Arcane horrors are something else entirely.

Not for the first time, he feels the swell of frustration, followed by a wave of guilt: there's so much he doesn't know, so much he could use to protect people --

And you could have learned it. If you didn't run.

Even then, Cullen knows it's not true. Not the way things were going in Kirkwall.

He straightens and hefts his pack again. If he's to find shelter before nightfall, he's got to get a move on. There are caves, he knows, all through the country. One of them should do for the night, if it's free of spiders. He should start looking past the keep, where all the bandits are.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Alistair nods.

Quieter: "He's begun ripping into the Wardens as well." He drags a hand over his hair; quirks a rueful eyebrow at Cullen. "Which is why I'm living in a cave at the edge of town, waiting for the moment someone yells 'aaah, a mage!' and gathers a friendly mob to come say hello."

Feet properly toasty, Cullen draws his knees closer to his chest.

"Why the Wardens? -- if you want to talk about it," he says hastily. "I can -- I don't know. Something about the weather. Something else."

"I'd talk about my dead mother just to make conversation right now," says Alistair, still wry, but smiling. He throws a glance over his shoulder toward the makeshift desk; sighs, a little, as the humor leaches from him.

"I don't know yet," he admits. "He wants to use us somehow; that much is certain. But why us, specifically -- I don't know."

He looks back to Cullen.

"Not too long ago, every single Warden in Orlais began to hear their Calling. Not a true Calling, though. I did enough digging to find that much. Corypheus might simply think we'll all run scared, and run straight to him for protection. Seems like an awfully simple plan for an ancient magister from the dawn of time, though."

Cullen furrows his brow. "That's -- a way to control Wardens, then? This Calling?"

"Through fear, perhaps."

Alistair scrapes at the ground with a thumbnail.

"The Calling means we're close to death. It means it's time to say our goodbyes and head to the Deep Roads to fall with our weapons in hand, slaughtering as many darkspawn as we can on the way down. Our last noble hurrah." He shrugs. "We all face it gladly, but it's not as if we wake up every morning and think, 'wow, I hope today's the day I start hearing the song of my own impending demise!'"

"It's a literal song, then, isn't it." Questioning. "You really would rather I talk. It helps."

"Yes."

Another crooked smile.

"It's the best way I can explain it to someone who'll never hear it: a damned annoying song you can't get out of your head."

Cullen rubs at his face. "That's..." Visibly searching for a word. "Awful."

Then he draws himself up. "Right. Well. Conversation. What d'you want to talk about?"

"Well..."

He settles in more comfortably, knees half-drawn to his chest, one arm slung across them.

"Crestwood's a rather miserable place, we can all agree. What brings you through here?"

"I passed through Amaranthine not too long ago. I'd been -- hiding. Along the Storm Coast."

Cullen speaks to his kneecaps.

"Got the news there. Inquisition takes in mages. And they seem to be the only ones who are doing anything, so -- if it's safe at their fortress, then, then... I could be useful."

A little more wry, in an unpleasant sort of way: "And not murdered on sight."

Alistair snorts a quiet laugh, with almost no humor to it. "Yes, that does tend to raise their esteem, doesn't it."

He drums his fingers against his leg.

"There's a chance you might meet the Inquisitor if you stick around long enough." A little quieter. "Someone I know -- "

Wait. Cullen mentioned Kirkwall. How long was he there? How much of that overlapped with Hawke's time in the city? Wisely, for now, Alistair decides to keep his mouth shut.

" -- she's encountered Corypheus as well and took the matter to the Inquisition. Last I heard, they'd be in touch personally."

Cullen furrows his brow, looking up.

"I know they're not the Chantry, but they might as well be, and -- they don't send their leaders into the field. You really think...?"

Alistair shrugs.

"She might not," he says. "But it sounded possible, from the letter I received. More than possible." Another quirk of a smile. "Even if it's only my contact and a few members of the Inquisition, you'll have a much easier time getting back to the fortress if you aren't traveling alone."

Cullen looks --

Fearful. He looks fearful.

"I suppose it's -- less dangerous than presenting myself at their fortress." This almost to himself. "Easier to escape, if need be."

Alistair nods.

Then, more cautiously: "Do you know Marian Hawke?"

(It's the fear that does it. If they're allies, it may reassure Cullen; if they're not...well, better Cullen be informed than receive a further shock whenever Hawke turns up at the cave's mouth.)

He wraps his arms around himself. "I -- yes. Not well. She -- helped, once. When someone was trying to -- well. Possess templar recruits. I'd gone after one, and -- "

(His voice got tighter, as he spoke.)

"She and her friends arrived in a timely manner."

All right. That seems -- promising.

Alistair continues to speak carefully, though, when he says, "She's my contact. Is why I asked. So whenever they arrive -- the Inquisitor may not be there, but she definitely will be."

Cullen runs his hands over his face and lets out a shaky sigh.

"That's... awkward." Beat. "She -- doesn't know. Nobody there knew why I left."

Alistair stifles a wince, with little success.

"Do you think she'd bring you harm if she knew?"

She didn't seem particularly inclined to strike down Alistair where he stood, when he ran into her as Kirkwall was falling down around their ears. That could've just been because there were more important matters at hand, though.

Like, you know, Kirkwall falling down around their ears.

Cullen shrugs, roughly, closing in on himself even further.

"I don't know. I'd deserve it, but -- I don't know. I left before the Qunari invasion." Then, before he can stop himself: "I'd deserve it if you did it. Or anyone. It's just a matter of when it'll happen."

Alistair's quiet a moment.

(Not for too long. The music begins to swell in short order; he gives his head an irritable shake as if to dislodge it.)

"Well," he says at last, quiet once more, "it won't happen here tonight. I'd understand if you wanted to leave before Hawke turns up, but it may be a while yet. So if you need shelter for a little longer..."

He shrugs.

"It might as well be Hawke as anyone else."

Toneless. Cullen still isn't looking at him.

"Whether or not I've dry feet for the occasion is up to you."

If Cullen wants to go to the Inquisition, Alistair's of the firm belief that it's safer if the Inquisition comes to him. An apostate as concerned with staying in hiding as Cullen won't have been tested much, he suspects, and years of watching over mages can't compare to reaching for the Fade yourself. Yes, Cullen's made it this far alone, and he's still got that sword at his side --

But Thedas has rarely been kind to mages.

And Alistair's feeling -- protective, after receiving so little protection from Clarel in the end.

"It's a big cave." Gentler. "Plenty of room for two." He points to Cullen. "If you snore I reserve the right to throw half my bedroll at you, though."

"I won't," he says softly. "You don't have to worry about that."

Cullen draws back from the fire a little. "What do you want in return?"

A small smile. "Not snoring is enough for me," he says.

Now that he's certain Cullen won't go running to the village yelling aaaah, a mage!