Cullen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
howtoactfereldan) wrote2018-05-27 07:51 pm
howtoactfereldan) wrote2018-05-27 07:51 pm
(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.
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.
no subject
He doesn't sound angry, or upset -- not even annoyed. Resigned, mostly; like he's humoring Cullen, except there's no actual humor to it.
He separates another piece of cheese from the main hunk, rewraps the bundle, and watches the fire as he nibbles the food.
no subject
Slowly his shoulders come down from around his ears; his breathing slows, deepens.
It's been -- too long. Since he could sleep in a dry place without having to keep an ear open. The adrenaline's left him. (And he's more stubborn than hungry.)
no subject
Is Alistair going to follow his own advice? Absolutely not!
(That's the other fun part of the Calling: his nightmares haven't been this bad since the Fifth Blight.)
Losing his conversation partner means he'll have to make his own fun, though, lest the song start driving him mad. Alistair gets up to rummage through his pack, as quietly as he can: he's certain he has a deck of cards somewhere. The Corypheus research will wait until he can talk to himself again.