[ at some point, he decides to start using his options. he still throws quiet fits in his office (much to his shame) when it gets too awful, but in a moment of clarity, he's able to write a missive. a quick but neatly scrawled note, sent off to be delivered to Dorian in his little alcove in the library no doubt. ]
Dorian–
If you've come upon any reading material on lyrium and its more...medical effects, would you be able to recommend the more viable tomes? Though if you haven't already come across anything, please don't feel like you need to go out of your way.
( a curious note. not so curious it raises many alarms in dorian's head. but, curious enough to raise a small few. )
Cullen,
I can recommend you half a dozen tomes on lyrium that go on, at length, of its properties and effects. Medical is stretching it, since that isn't something it's really used for. I've sent a couple along that may have some useful information. The smaller book pertains mostly to a mage physiology, but may provide you with some insight.
Is there something more specific you're looking for? There is plenty of medical paraphernalia in the library. Has something happened?
I appreciate the books you've sent on. It's possible one of these will touch on what I'm looking for.
Nothing serious; a bit of something I'd rather not explain over message.
Cullen
[ understatement of the year, but he's not about to get tangled in all of that with his least well used weapon: words. he had a hard enough time explaining it to cassandra and the inquisitor and that was in person. ]
[ it takes him a week to get through the smaller of the books. he's been bogged down by paperwork and new recruits in need of training. now that they're somewhat settled in, he can take a long enough break to return the one he finished. maybe he should just wait until he completes them all, but then they'll never be returned. cullen takes his actual downtime when he can.
so, he appears in the library, book in hand, hesitating a bit in the entrance to Dorian's little alcove. ]
( during that week, dorian has passing thoughts about cullen's question and if anything was answered in the books provided. since he hears nothing more, he assumes there was at least a little something.
when a presence is felt, dorian does ignore it at first. many people hover around the shelves. most not sure if they want to interrupt him or just try and fumble through on their own. though, with cullen's recognizable tone dorian actually puts down what he's reading instead of being a jerk. )
( dorian takes the book, though doesn't move to put it back on the shelves or nearby table. he looks at cullen, quiet for once, and his eyes are searching. there's something still a little strange about all this. though, he knows better than to outright push. )
You're quite welcome. Although, you needn't have rushed this back so soon. No one's been in need of it.
( his arms shift behind his back. both hands gently hold the boom between them. there aren't too many loitering around right now. and, thankfully plenty give dorian a wide berth. so, he finds there's safety in asking just for a little more. )
You know, I'll be waiting a few weeks for a shipment from Orlais to continue my own research. If you require assistance in your journey for this mysterious lyrium project of yours, all you need is to say the word.
It was on my mind. And well...I'll admit it might've gotten buried under paperwork if I left it.
[ who knows when he would've unearthed it. maybe months later. there's also the added benefit of having been able to take a walk; the Inquisitor was always wondering if he took breaks. this time he could successfully fend off that question with an affirmative. ]
What? [ real smooth ] I, uh. Please, you needn't go to such measures. I would hardly like to take up whatever free time you may have.
[ it already weighs on him that he had to tell Cassandra and the Inquisitor. they needed to know, of course. Cassandra to watch him and the Inquisitor because they deserved to know. he is hesitant to say anything to anyone else, although that's more out of frustration of how much his condition plagued him than anything else. ]
( something fishy is afoot. for a man who's expressionless so dorian can't often tell by look alone what he'll be up to across the chess board, he's a terrible liar. what dorian can't tell is why he's denying the help. he'd like to think it's not personal, but minds always wander.
well, one more attempt. if he's turned down, he'll not offer again. contrary to what many believe of him, dorian isn't a complete idiot and can take no for an answer. )
It's hardly a length of measure at all. As you know, the Inquisitor is headed off to the Storm Coast for dragon hunting. Dancing in the rain, ( he dismissively waves his hand. ) or what have you. Thankfully, I'm not going on that little trip. My time is yours, should you care to make use of it.
[ Truthfully, he's done a lot more difficult things in his life. Becoming a Templar, for one, had been a pursuit of many years of training, study, fasting, and faith. They'd told him it would be grueling and they hadn't been liars. While he appreciates everything the order did for him, still does– the training will leave him when he's dead– they've become something he doesn't recognize. Shattered, power hungry, so many resemble Meredith in her madness.
So he's left.
Went with Cassandra when she offered the hand and the position with the Inquisition. That was the easy part. The hard part was cutting lyrium cold-turkey. He's sitting in his office now, lyrium case open, staring at the tools intently. One hand hovers over the implements, visibly shaking with a tremor. All of his nerves feel like they're on fire today, he can barely fill out a report without his hand sliding off the edge from the shakes.
He should be taking it. For the Inquisition. So their Commander isn't a mess of a person who can't concentrate in these dangerous times. ]
[ As a whole, he carries regret with him like he does a sword. It hangs heavy at his side, reminding him of the mistakes he's made. Things he should've done, things he shouldn't have done. Things he should've known better about; Kirkwall, Meredith's specific brand of madness, how many could he have saved if he had just taken the blinders off?
People have told him that time heals all wounds, that eventually he'll gain enough years to move past it all. He's not sure if it's bad advice or if he's somehow broken too much, a mirror shattered to pieces with invisible hands putting it back together, fragments still missing. Because it has been years since Kinloch Hold, he can count them, just as he counts slowly down when another nightmare from it grips him in the dead of night. When he has to remind himself that was then and this is now, sweat and fear clinging to his skin.
Joining the Inquisition has given him a chance to redeem himself, to make an effort towards being right. To bury those bad choices and inconvenient memories in a cause that matters. And to bury himself under enough work that he's left exhausted, too drained to dream anything.
Of course, the path to rightness isn't easy either. He meant it when he said he was going to leave the Templar order, lyrium and all. It's what's causing the burning pain in his legs today, the noticeable tremor in his hands that frustrate him to no end. Cullen's been keeping to the ramparts where he can, avoiding as many prying eyes as possible.
Hopefully he doesn't run into anyone in the main Inquisition party. A few are kind enough not to mention anything, but he still doesn't want to deal with Bull's knowing gaze or Dorian's ill-hidden-concern.
Or worse, Cole's sing-song comments, so sharp, driven as deep as knives. ]
It still sings to you, even if the notes are wrong. You don't like the song anymore but you're still forced to listen.
[ And Cole, he doesn't move in and our so much as dissipate and reappear when he wants (when he needs), and he's needed here.
Is he needed? He thinks he is. He feels the hurt, he feels the pain, and he wants to help. He has to help, because that is Cole, no more and no less. And Cullen?
Cole, at the very least, is not directly behind him. He's by the door at the entrance of his tower (it's never opened) and he's very still, fingers curling awkwardly into fists. This, Varic tells him, is a neutral, non-threatening position. ]
[ Just because he's gotten used to Cole doesn't mean he's entirely comfortable with the way the boy disappears and reappears. So when there's a reply out of thin air, the quiet and melodic way Cole speaks, Cullen can't help the way he jumps a bit. His shoulders bunch, everything tensing from the suddenness.
Releasing a sigh in a rush, he shakes his head a bit. ]
Maker's breath Cole, can't you knock? [ Admonishment is easier than dealing with the words. The ones that always ring true and leave him discomfited. ]
I can. [ He can knock, it's a matter of if he should. Or if it's polite. Politeness doesn't concern Cole too much, not with someone like Cullen, not when he has a hard time relearning (remembering?) basic human etiquette a lot of the time. ]
You resist the siren call, even if it sings, older but not softer, different but no less alluring.
[ Wrong question, which he knew as soon as it was out of his mouth. Cole always takes things a little too literally– he should be used to this by now.
Which, well, he is and isn't. Patience, he thinks, is exceedingly difficult to exercise when he doesn't exactly understand Cole. Solas had explained at first, that he's a spirit, not a demon. Templar suspiciousness is hard to break though and he keeps thinking something horrible is going to happen. Even though Cole is no longer strictly a spirit. He's something in-between.
Sighing, he rubs at the bridge of his nose, attempting to relieve some of the pressure. ]
I know, Cole, I know. The lyrium's all the way to my bones at this point, it will... be a while before it's gone in its entirety. [ If he doesn't succumb to it before then. ]
Thank you for the reminder. [ He can't keep the bitterness out of his voice. It's the truth, his own truth, voiced aloud and staring back at him. An uncomfortable vocal mirror. ]
[ Cole watches him, his face impassive like he's seen this played out before--he's not quite staring through Cullen, no, but his lips part, about to say anything, before he seems to think the better of it.
How strange it is, wanting to help, not wanting to heal. He's going to get creative--honey in Leliana's wine, but different. Wait--no. Cullen is a battering ram of a man, Cole thinks, or he thinks he thinks, and that's when he decides the best thing is sheer, brute honestly. ]
It will always ache, even after the physical pain has subsided. In here.
[ He carefully reaches out, tapping the other's temple. ]
But you can use that. To help others, and yourself.
Not really? I suppose I've just gotten used to their cawing, I often get so wrapped up in my research and reading I don't notice it.
[Dorian sighs softly and gives in, laying his head on Cullen's shoulder to just close his eyes for a bit. As long as they keep talking he won't fall asleep, but he can rest against the Commander.]
Mn, the gardens would be nice, though we may get some judging looks from any sisters passing through. And there are safe parts of the wall.
[A pause to consider.] My room of course would be the most private of any of our options but...
[A soft hum of a chuckle.] I don't know how you'd feel about being invited to my room for a drink.
Ah, I suppose I can understand that. Getting caught up in work, I mean.
[ He’s guilty of that quite often, even if he has a pounding headache. Because the work isn’t going to do itself.
Today, though, he isn’t suffering the usual ill effects of the withdrawal. Maybe a bit of eye strain and some creaking joints, but much better than it could be. The sudden lean against his shoulder surprises him and if he were less composed, he would be flinching from the oddness of it. Instead, he stays where he is, letting Dorian rest. The Tevinter mage works just as hard as the rest of them– and maybe he enjoys the slight weight leaning against him. ]
With the recent rebuilds, there are parts of the wall that are less dangerous, yes. [ But oh. That’s uh, well. How does he feel about the vague invitation?
Perhaps a bit nervous, but it’s just drinking with a..friend of sorts, isn’t it? They’ve been working together this long, playing chess on occasion. There’s nothing to be anxious over. He realizes he’s been silent for too long nd stammers out a response. ]
You? Get caught up in your work? Nooo... I don't believe it for a second.
[Said with very obvious sarcasm and a small smile of amusement. He gently traces his fingers over the raised edges of Cullen's armor as the other sits in silence, wondering what sort of response he'll get to his invitation. He studies the mans face from where his head lays on his shoulder, curious...
Then he smiles at the soft stammering answer.]
Don't worry, Commander, I'll behave myself. [He lifts his head just so he can place his lips near his ear to whisper purring words.]
Unless of course you do not wish for me to behave.
[ He lets out a bit of a laugh at the sarcasm, knows what his reputation is like all around Skyhold (and beyond, that this point). A few months ago though, he would've been hard pressed to even laugh about it. Being here with the Inquisitoon, despite the dire circumstances, has been good for him. He's doing something to make a difference, years of training not going to waste. There's people he cares about—and the people he works with aren't just coworkers. Sometimes they're frustrating, as anyone stuck together too long can be, but he's far past the point of them simply being friends. He would gladly die for any of them.
The Tevinter mage at his back included.
Even if he's being teased and he's certain his entire face has now flushed pink. ]
Well, I, ah. I can't say that I would mind terribly? If you were to forego some manners.
[ Maker, let the ground swallow him up now thanks. ]
[Dorian's brows loft slightly at the temptation and permission being given to him. It's really just... too much to even try to resist. He's so very good at being bad and he loves it. Especially with the way the other turns beet red at the thought. He's not turning him down, he's not scolding him for even thinking of such lewd things... THAT is pretty much an invitation.
The Altus nibbles his bottom lip as he shifts a little on the back of the horse, pressing in a little closer so his hips are pressed a little more firmly to Cullen's. He smirks, letting his lips and mustache tickle the Knight Commanders ear as one hand slowly traces it's way down from his chest, over his belly to follow the outside of a hip then slowly up and inward along his thigh.]
[ Oh. He should've known Dorian would press the unspoken invite. Not that he really minds. Actually his mind goes blissfully blank at the first breath along the curve of his ear. The blankness goes liquid, starts a warmth in his gut as Dorian scoots closer, hips pressed to his ass, no space between.
He doesn't feel the hand travel down his chest, breastplate in the way, but he can tell when the hand drops to his stomach, pressure enough to cut through the layers. Cullen is tempted to press into the touch, especially as it dips to the seam of his trousers.
His attention snaps up though, as the horse starts to drift to the side due to his lack of focus. ]
No—well, yes. But only because I'm going to drive us off the road if you keep going.
[Dorian's hand is deft and slow, knowing the plains of a man's body well enough that he can focus more on listening to small hitches in breath, or watching Cullen's eyes slide closed in pleasure. He can feel how his body tenses against his own as his fingers skirt closer to more interesting areas and even the Mage doesn't realize they're going off the trail.]
Hmmm, [Hummed thoughtfully as he wraps his lips around Cullen's earlobe so the sound vibrates through him. He lets him go with a sigh against his neck.]
What a shame... [That hand sweeps past his groin to lay over his abdomen instead.]
Perhaps I can save it for later then, when I have you in my room. We are almost to the gate, after all, and I want to take my time if you're going to allow me to play.
[ Funny enough, it isn't the touching that nearly does him in. It's the small sigh, the warm puff of breath right against his skin. Cullen shivers from the promise of it and he wants nothing more than to trail his hands all over Dorian, want so visceral he swears he can taste it. Like a draught of lyrium and just as potent.
He redoubles his focus on the trail, putting the weight of Dorian's palm out of his mind now that it isn't traveling. ]
You can do whatever you like once we're ah, away from prying eyes. And from possibly getting bucked off a horse.
[ The words make his face burn, but he means them. It's not much longer anyway, until they're through the gates of the hold. Cullen gets them to the stables and gestures for Dorian to go on ahead as he gets the horse re-settled. ]
I'll meet you—I've got to pass through my office to let my aide know I'll be gone for a while.
[He smirks softly, resting his chin on a broad, feathery shoulder and just enjoying the ride for awhile. He's just basking in the warmth of the other, his feel of being in his arms and pressed to that strong back as they ride. He hadn't thought his playful flirting would end up getting him in bed with Cullen, in fact he... hadn't exactly been sure the other was even into men until now. Or that he was at all interested in him. He's pleasantly surprised and very content with the outcome. In fact he's even a little excited, the feeling buzzing around in his belly as the anticipation causes his pulse to ramp up with each moment they draw closer to the gates. After being chased by a horny woman who wanted him, it'll be nice to fall into bed with someone he actually desires.
What a way to turn a crazy night around.
The moment they get the horse in the stable he's almost a little reluctant to let go of Cullen and slide off the back of the horse. He's certain they were getting a few looks as they rode in, but he doesn't mind. He is perhaps a little worried the other will get caught up in his work or blow him off if he gets cold feet. But he does his best not to show it.]
Of course. Try not to get too distracted. I'll be waiting for you.
[He gives a quick glance, noting no one is looking and leans in to kiss the blonde on his cheek before walking away and winking at him over his shoulder. He'll head off to gather up a good bottle of wine and a quick wash, so that when Cullen finally joins him he's lounging around in a more comfortable house robe of sorts. Still much more elegant and regal looking than a simple bathrobe, but something Dorian wouldn't wear out in the field. Getting out of his leathers was a process and if they plan to sleep together he's going to make it easy to undress him. That and it's a lot more comfortable...
He'll sit in a chair, legs crossed, book in hand an glass of wine in the other as he waits.]
[ He hands the horse off to one of Dennet's aides, knows she'll be well taken care of so he doesn't hover. Then it's up the stairs, a brisk walk along the ramparts until he gets to the familiar draft of his office. Taking one look at his desk, he very nearly takes all his words to Dorian back. There's just so much to do, the responsibility of paperwork oppressive.
But– no, he can't. Won't. Cullen has never missed one of their chess matches excepting when he's been out on Inquisition business. Or that bought of cold that put him under for a week. Even when he's feeling particularly awful from the withdrawals, he's dragged himself out. Not out of a sense of obligation, per se, but because he enjoyed it. Their time together was brief respite from everything going to hell in a hand basket.
So he mentally reviews what can be put off for a bit more time. Anything that absolutely needs his review gets put in a pile and everything for which his eyes are optional but need signed off, he passes to Tierney, who actually looks relieved when he mentions he'll be out of the office for a bit.
Soon enough, he's on his way to Dorian's quarters. Which, embarrassingly, he gets turned around once, not used to coming into the living spaces of Skyhold's wing. He'd walked through on the initial survey and then once or twice after. Eventually, he gets to Dorian's door and knocks, nerves threatening to make him walk away.
What if he waited too long? What if there's an emergency? What if this is a colossally stupid idea that will ruin their friendship? What if– ok no, stop right there Rutherford. ]
[The mage occasionally glances out a window to sort of gauge the time that goes by, but for the most part he's so wrapped up in his reading he hardly notices. He's eager enough to continue things and hopes the Commander keeps his word. On the other, he's worth the wait, so he does what he can to be patient. Soon enough there is a knock on the door just as he's finishing his glass of wine. He sets the glass down next to the clean empty one nearby and tucks his book away as he rises to answer his door.
He gives Cullen a warm smile, unaware of the things worrying through the Commander's mind. He leans ever-so-slightly on his doorframe as he looks the other over with something appraising and sultry.]
I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind. [His smile curls a little, teasing but happy to see him.]
I'm glad that isn't the case. Please... come in. Make yourself comfortable. [He steps away from the door to go back to the wine and pour out two glasses, bringing them both as he approaches Cullen and offers him the clean glass full of blood red wine.]
[ Two can play at the appraising game. Or rather, Dorian is obviously playing, where Cullen is more just taking this in. He didn't chicken out and now he's treated to the sinuous line of Dorian's figure, leaned up against the doorframe. His hip is cocked ever so slightly, jaunty and radiating confidence—something so Dorian he quirks a smile. ]
I'll admit the vast amount of paperwork almost made me rethink it.
[ And his nerves, but he's carefully not going to mention those. He's transparent enough with the added ammo. At the invitation, he steps through into the room, slowly lowering himself into one of the empty chairs. His legs protest the motion at first, grumble and creak once he's sitting. Well, it's been much worse. ]
Though I—ah, thank you—think my aide is rather glad to have me out of the office.
I don't know whether to be insulted that you almost chose paper work over me, or not. [He's not entirely serious of course, just teasing a little.]
You do tend to spend a lot of time up there in your tower. [He notes, perching himself on the thick armrest of Cullen's chair. His bathrobe is loose, slipping slightly off of a shoulder to reveal a bit more skin. He'll fold one leg over the other knee as he sips his wine.]
Perhaps I had a bit of ulterior motive calling you out for help this evening. I'm not the only one concerned you need to get out more, Commander.
[ Oh, is that too forward? Cullen hesitates, not sure how those words are going to be taken.
Though they are the truth. He'd much rather spend time with Dorian than to be trapped in his office signing off requisitions. Just, his strong sense of responsibility can be a detriment– he's often accused of all work and no play. It's difficult to tear himself away, even if he knows the whole lot of paper won't set itself ablaze if he leaves it for longer than an hour.
And right now, with Dorian settled on the arm rest, robe sliding incrementally off his shoulder, Cullen thinks all of it could go up in smoke for all he cares. ]
Your maneuvers are certainly less crass than Sera's attempts. [ She tries, he thinks, in her own way. Either that or she's simply annoying him because he's an easy target. Maybe a bit of both.
Dorian crosses his legs and instinctively, he reaches out to adjust the bit of robe over his thigh, trying not to think about the sliver of tan skin on the inside of his thigh. ] Have you all been conspiring?
[Dorian smiles somewhat triumphantly as Cullen admits to wanting to be in his company. Not that he had any real doubts, of course, but it's still nice to hear it. His ego approves of the stroking. And the mage also can't help the soft chuckle as Cullen mentions Sera.]
Well, to be fair, Sera isn't interested in men... [He trails off slightly and quirks a brow as the Commander sees fit to save his modesty and adjust the cloth over his thigh, as if to hide the tanned skin from view. A mischievous smile curls his lips and mustache before he reaches out to take the hand and keep it there, on his thigh.]
Perhaps... but I doubt we've been conspiring the same things... [He slowly moves the hand, trapped within his own down to the edge of his robe, attempting to guide it up under the cloth and along the warm skin the Commander was trying to hide from view. All the while he's smirking and giving the other a very clear look of desire.]
Come now, Commander, you promised me I could do as I like, and do you expect me not to want to give you the same freedoms?
No, she's more interested in a spot of fun, as she says.
[ Maybe there's a few similarities there, though, even if their end motivations are different.
He can feel his face warm as Dorian holds his hand in place, the leather of his glove warming in contact with his skin. Flicking his gaze up, he's reassured by the smirk he gets in response and lets his touch go further up, fingers soon cradling the curve of one sharp hip. ]
It's not that. I, ah– Maker, it's been a while. [ That isn't putting him off, though. It's something he needs to work through, that's all. Tentatively, he leans in, brushing a soft kiss to one exposed collarbone. ]
Mmn, [He hums softly with approval as Cullen's hand finds his hip and his lips brush a collar bone. His own hand will shift to pull the glove off of his hand so he can touch the heated skin.]
Don't worry, we can take it as slow or as fast as you like. [He's content to let the Commander set the pace, to really savor each moment he has with him. He's wanted this for longer than he's willing to admit.
He'll tip the last of his wine back and then reach over to set the glass on a shelf. That now free hand will settle into blond waves, carding gently through them and pondering his next move, curious if the Lion will make one instead.]
[ The trek to Skyhold was a long one. While he didn't distrust Solas, there had been too many unknown variables. And too many people to look after on the way there; injured soldiers and clerics alike, as well as the main Inquisition party. Healers had done their best for those in the most pain and through the journey he can say (with some relief) that they'd certainly improved. Their pace, after all, had started slow and gotten gradually better even as they'd climbed through the snowy mountain passes that led to their destination.
None had shaken the creeping menace of Corypheus from their minds or hearts, but the distance from Haven alone was somewhat healing. At least it was for him.
Upon reaching Skyhold, that relief only grew as he'd taken in the towering walls and high towers. It would be extremely difficult to be surprised at this vantage point. Moreover: this place was defensible in a way that Haven never could have been. Cullen worked tirelessly after their arrival to ensure the guard postings were set, that repairs were seen to in the spots on the walls that would need it the most. Regular training drills picked back up in a much better setup than they'd had previously. He just wished they hadn't needed to learn of this place the hard way. Or that they'd needed to make so much sacrifice to make it so.
Especially not when it had been Auvrie–now Inquisitor–who'd determinedly faced Corypheus and his Archdemon without an ounce of fear. And when it'd been Auvrie once more that brought their hopes back even as he'd plucked her shivering form from the snow. He has a bad habit, he knows, of remembering the worst of things. His siblings have told him for years. Varric has made mention of it as well, in a tone that is both sympathetic and teasing.
But, he knows he will never forget how light Auvrie had been when he'd picked her up. How close to frozen. How they'd all almost lost her. He's been waking in the middle of the night with the ghost of the feeling across his forearms, haunting in how much it drives his anxiety. This night is no exception–though at least the nightmare waited until closer to dawn. Cullen blew out a sigh, watching the weak rays of the morning sun through the broken slats in his ceiling. Another few beats and he knew it was useless to try and go back to sleep.
So he hauls his aching body up and dresses, intent on doing a round along the walls to work off the nervous energy. The motion will help clear his head. He thinks. ]
[ since the escape from haven, avurie has had difficulty keeping warm. she imagines it's partly physical, in that hypothermia may have caused some level of damage, and the rest psychological -- throughout this journey she had fallen into, she had come close to death a few times. this last time was the closest; she was truly lucky to be alive.
she hasn't really had the time to dwell on it, though, given the rush of changes in the last few days. being named inquisitor was both a surprise and not, and auvrie knows not all of the refugees are happy with it; the comments concerning elves are still present, grumbles of those she's helped saved. she's long since let go of the frustration of not being seen as anything but less-than, but it's still exhausting.
on this early morning, sleep eludes her. not nightmares, necessarily, but the ever-present spectre of grief and guilt. she had tried to sort through it with a few of her closest confidants, but everyone else was dealing with their own proverbial baggage. only vivienne seemed to offer the soundest advice; auvrie had made a critically stupid mistake, and she can either let it ruin her, or move forward.
she had intended on finding cullen to chat with him further than their passing comments in the yard, but was loathe to bother him more than usual. he was quiet and comforting in a wholly necessary way, and given the new problem of the mages running amok with the enemy, auvrie imagines cullen isn't exactly thrilled. not that he has ever once held what she is against her; quite the opposite, but cullen is more familiar than most with what happens when mages lose control.
all of these thoughts rattle around her head on an aimless walk along the wall, a warm shawl wrapped around her shoulders. she knows she should be in bed resting and recovering; the trek to skyhold hadn't been restful in the least. but walking helped clear her head, and on this early morning, it seems she is not alone.
it causes auvrie's lips to twitch into a faint smile. typical. ]
Do they not teach you how to have a restful night's sleep at Templar school?
[ it's a teasing call as she continues to close the distance, amused -- and maybe a little concerned. cullen looks exhausted, and must be up for a reason. hopefully nothing too dire. ]
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From:
take this headache away | dorian & cullen
Dorian–
If you've come upon any reading material on lyrium and its more...medical effects, would you be able to recommend the more viable tomes? Though if you haven't already come across anything, please don't feel like you need to go out of your way.
Cullen
From:
no subject
Cullen,
I can recommend you half a dozen tomes on lyrium that go on, at length, of its properties and effects. Medical is stretching it, since that isn't something it's really used for. I've sent a couple along that may have some useful information. The smaller book pertains mostly to a mage physiology, but may provide you with some insight.
Is there something more specific you're looking for? There is plenty of medical paraphernalia in the library. Has something happened?
-- Dorian
From:
no subject
I appreciate the books you've sent on. It's possible one of these will touch on what I'm looking for.
Nothing serious; a bit of something I'd rather not explain over message.
Cullen
[ understatement of the year, but he's not about to get tangled in all of that with his least well used weapon: words. he had a hard enough time explaining it to cassandra and the inquisitor and that was in person. ]
From:
no subject
Cullen,
I see. If those don't have what you're looking for, I'm certain I can find more. Just send the word. It's no bother at all.
-- Dorian
From:
no subject
so, he appears in the library, book in hand, hesitating a bit in the entrance to Dorian's little alcove. ]
I hope I'm not disturbing anything.
From:
no subject
when a presence is felt, dorian does ignore it at first. many people hover around the shelves. most not sure if they want to interrupt him or just try and fumble through on their own. though, with cullen's recognizable tone dorian actually puts down what he's reading instead of being a jerk. )
No, not at all.
( he gets up from his chair with a smile. )
What can I help you with?
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I came to return this. I've, ah... I've still some of the others, but wanted to give this back when I had the chance.
[ he shifts a little, from foot to foot. the library is not as familiar to him and he feels a bit out of place. ]
And I wanted to thank you again, for going out of your way. I don't know if I'll find any answers– though I feel I'm getting closer, perhaps.
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You're quite welcome. Although, you needn't have rushed this back so soon. No one's been in need of it.
( his arms shift behind his back. both hands gently hold the boom between them. there aren't too many loitering around right now. and, thankfully plenty give dorian a wide berth. so, he finds there's safety in asking just for a little more. )
You know, I'll be waiting a few weeks for a shipment from Orlais to continue my own research. If you require assistance in your journey for this mysterious lyrium project of yours, all you need is to say the word.
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[ who knows when he would've unearthed it. maybe months later. there's also the added benefit of having been able to take a walk; the Inquisitor was always wondering if he took breaks. this time he could successfully fend off that question with an affirmative. ]
What? [ real smooth ] I, uh. Please, you needn't go to such measures. I would hardly like to take up whatever free time you may have.
[ it already weighs on him that he had to tell Cassandra and the Inquisitor. they needed to know, of course. Cassandra to watch him and the Inquisitor because they deserved to know. he is hesitant to say anything to anyone else, although that's more out of frustration of how much his condition plagued him than anything else. ]
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well, one more attempt. if he's turned down, he'll not offer again. contrary to what many believe of him, dorian isn't a complete idiot and can take no for an answer. )
It's hardly a length of measure at all. As you know, the Inquisitor is headed off to the Storm Coast for dragon hunting. Dancing in the rain, ( he dismissively waves his hand. ) or what have you. Thankfully, I'm not going on that little trip. My time is yours, should you care to make use of it.
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unused crap
So he's left.
Went with Cassandra when she offered the hand and the position with the Inquisition. That was the easy part. The hard part was cutting lyrium cold-turkey. He's sitting in his office now, lyrium case open, staring at the tools intently. One hand hovers over the implements, visibly shaking with a tremor. All of his nerves feel like they're on fire today, he can barely fill out a report without his hand sliding off the edge from the shakes.
He should be taking it. For the Inquisition. So their Commander isn't a mess of a person who can't concentrate in these dangerous times. ]
I should be, Maker damn it all.
[ But he promised. ]
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People have told him that time heals all wounds, that eventually he'll gain enough years to move past it all. He's not sure if it's bad advice or if he's somehow broken too much, a mirror shattered to pieces with invisible hands putting it back together, fragments still missing. Because it has been years since Kinloch Hold, he can count them, just as he counts slowly down when another nightmare from it grips him in the dead of night. When he has to remind himself that was then and this is now, sweat and fear clinging to his skin.
Joining the Inquisition has given him a chance to redeem himself, to make an effort towards being right. To bury those bad choices and inconvenient memories in a cause that matters. And to bury himself under enough work that he's left exhausted, too drained to dream anything.
Of course, the path to rightness isn't easy either. He meant it when he said he was going to leave the Templar order, lyrium and all. It's what's causing the burning pain in his legs today, the noticeable tremor in his hands that frustrate him to no end. Cullen's been keeping to the ramparts where he can, avoiding as many prying eyes as possible.
Hopefully he doesn't run into anyone in the main Inquisition party. A few are kind enough not to mention anything, but he still doesn't want to deal with Bull's knowing gaze or Dorian's ill-hidden-concern.
Or worse, Cole's sing-song comments, so sharp, driven as deep as knives. ]
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[ And Cole, he doesn't move in and our so much as dissipate and reappear when he wants (when he needs), and he's needed here.
Is he needed? He thinks he is. He feels the hurt, he feels the pain, and he wants to help. He has to help, because that is Cole, no more and no less. And Cullen?
Cole, at the very least, is not directly behind him. He's by the door at the entrance of his tower (it's never opened) and he's very still, fingers curling awkwardly into fists. This, Varic tells him, is a neutral, non-threatening position. ]
It's why you hurt.
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Releasing a sigh in a rush, he shakes his head a bit. ]
Maker's breath Cole, can't you knock? [ Admonishment is easier than dealing with the words. The ones that always ring true and leave him discomfited. ]
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You resist the siren call, even if it sings, older but not softer, different but no less alluring.
You don't think you're good enough.
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Which, well, he is and isn't. Patience, he thinks, is exceedingly difficult to exercise when he doesn't exactly understand Cole. Solas had explained at first, that he's a spirit, not a demon. Templar suspiciousness is hard to break though and he keeps thinking something horrible is going to happen. Even though Cole is no longer strictly a spirit. He's something in-between.
Sighing, he rubs at the bridge of his nose, attempting to relieve some of the pressure. ]
I know, Cole, I know. The lyrium's all the way to my bones at this point, it will... be a while before it's gone in its entirety. [ If he doesn't succumb to it before then. ]
Thank you for the reminder. [ He can't keep the bitterness out of his voice. It's the truth, his own truth, voiced aloud and staring back at him. An uncomfortable vocal mirror. ]
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How strange it is, wanting to help, not wanting to heal. He's going to get creative--honey in Leliana's wine, but different. Wait--no. Cullen is a battering ram of a man, Cole thinks, or he thinks he thinks, and that's when he decides the best thing is sheer, brute honestly. ]
It will always ache, even after the physical pain has subsided. In here.
[ He carefully reaches out, tapping the other's temple. ]
But you can use that. To help others, and yourself.
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TFLN overflow >> Dorian & Cullen
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[Dorian sighs softly and gives in, laying his head on Cullen's shoulder to just close his eyes for a bit. As long as they keep talking he won't fall asleep, but he can rest against the Commander.]
Mn, the gardens would be nice, though we may get some judging looks from any sisters passing through. And there are safe parts of the wall.
[A pause to consider.] My room of course would be the most private of any of our options but...
[A soft hum of a chuckle.] I don't know how you'd feel about being invited to my room for a drink.
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[ He’s guilty of that quite often, even if he has a pounding headache. Because the work isn’t going to do itself.
Today, though, he isn’t suffering the usual ill effects of the withdrawal. Maybe a bit of eye strain and some creaking joints, but much better than it could be. The sudden lean against his shoulder surprises him and if he were less composed, he would be flinching from the oddness of it. Instead, he stays where he is, letting Dorian rest. The Tevinter mage works just as hard as the rest of them– and maybe he enjoys the slight weight leaning against him. ]
With the recent rebuilds, there are parts of the wall that are less dangerous, yes. [ But oh. That’s uh, well. How does he feel about the vague invitation?
Perhaps a bit nervous, but it’s just drinking with a..friend of sorts, isn’t it? They’ve been working together this long, playing chess on occasion. There’s nothing to be anxious over. He realizes he’s been silent for too long nd stammers out a response. ]
I- I wouldn’t mind. It makes sense, of course.
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[Said with very obvious sarcasm and a small smile of amusement. He gently traces his fingers over the raised edges of Cullen's armor as the other sits in silence, wondering what sort of response he'll get to his invitation. He studies the mans face from where his head lays on his shoulder, curious...
Then he smiles at the soft stammering answer.]
Don't worry, Commander, I'll behave myself. [He lifts his head just so he can place his lips near his ear to whisper purring words.]
Unless of course you do not wish for me to behave.
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The Tevinter mage at his back included.
Even if he's being teased and he's certain his entire face has now flushed pink. ]
Well, I, ah. I can't say that I would mind terribly? If you were to forego some manners.
[ Maker, let the ground swallow him up now thanks. ]
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The Altus nibbles his bottom lip as he shifts a little on the back of the horse, pressing in a little closer so his hips are pressed a little more firmly to Cullen's. He smirks, letting his lips and mustache tickle the Knight Commanders ear as one hand slowly traces it's way down from his chest, over his belly to follow the outside of a hip then slowly up and inward along his thigh.]
So you....don't mind this?
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He doesn't feel the hand travel down his chest, breastplate in the way, but he can tell when the hand drops to his stomach, pressure enough to cut through the layers. Cullen is tempted to press into the touch, especially as it dips to the seam of his trousers.
His attention snaps up though, as the horse starts to drift to the side due to his lack of focus. ]
No—well, yes. But only because I'm going to drive us off the road if you keep going.
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Hmmm, [Hummed thoughtfully as he wraps his lips around Cullen's earlobe so the sound vibrates through him. He lets him go with a sigh against his neck.]
What a shame... [That hand sweeps past his groin to lay over his abdomen instead.]
Perhaps I can save it for later then, when I have you in my room. We are almost to the gate, after all, and I want to take my time if you're going to allow me to play.
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He redoubles his focus on the trail, putting the weight of Dorian's palm out of his mind now that it isn't traveling. ]
You can do whatever you like once we're ah, away from prying eyes. And from possibly getting bucked off a horse.
[ The words make his face burn, but he means them. It's not much longer anyway, until they're through the gates of the hold. Cullen gets them to the stables and gestures for Dorian to go on ahead as he gets the horse re-settled. ]
I'll meet you—I've got to pass through my office to let my aide know I'll be gone for a while.
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[He smirks softly, resting his chin on a broad, feathery shoulder and just enjoying the ride for awhile. He's just basking in the warmth of the other, his feel of being in his arms and pressed to that strong back as they ride. He hadn't thought his playful flirting would end up getting him in bed with Cullen, in fact he... hadn't exactly been sure the other was even into men until now. Or that he was at all interested in him. He's pleasantly surprised and very content with the outcome. In fact he's even a little excited, the feeling buzzing around in his belly as the anticipation causes his pulse to ramp up with each moment they draw closer to the gates. After being chased by a horny woman who wanted him, it'll be nice to fall into bed with someone he actually desires.
What a way to turn a crazy night around.
The moment they get the horse in the stable he's almost a little reluctant to let go of Cullen and slide off the back of the horse. He's certain they were getting a few looks as they rode in, but he doesn't mind. He is perhaps a little worried the other will get caught up in his work or blow him off if he gets cold feet. But he does his best not to show it.]
Of course. Try not to get too distracted. I'll be waiting for you.
[He gives a quick glance, noting no one is looking and leans in to kiss the blonde on his cheek before walking away and winking at him over his shoulder. He'll head off to gather up a good bottle of wine and a quick wash, so that when Cullen finally joins him he's lounging around in a more comfortable house robe of sorts. Still much more elegant and regal looking than a simple bathrobe, but something Dorian wouldn't wear out in the field. Getting out of his leathers was a process and if they plan to sleep together he's going to make it easy to undress him. That and it's a lot more comfortable...
He'll sit in a chair, legs crossed, book in hand an glass of wine in the other as he waits.]
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But– no, he can't. Won't. Cullen has never missed one of their chess matches excepting when he's been out on Inquisition business. Or that bought of cold that put him under for a week. Even when he's feeling particularly awful from the withdrawals, he's dragged himself out. Not out of a sense of obligation, per se, but because he enjoyed it. Their time together was brief respite from everything going to hell in a hand basket.
So he mentally reviews what can be put off for a bit more time. Anything that absolutely needs his review gets put in a pile and everything for which his eyes are optional but need signed off, he passes to Tierney, who actually looks relieved when he mentions he'll be out of the office for a bit.
Soon enough, he's on his way to Dorian's quarters. Which, embarrassingly, he gets turned around once, not used to coming into the living spaces of Skyhold's wing. He'd walked through on the initial survey and then once or twice after. Eventually, he gets to Dorian's door and knocks, nerves threatening to make him walk away.
What if he waited too long? What if there's an emergency? What if this is a colossally stupid idea that will ruin their friendship? What if– ok no, stop right there Rutherford. ]
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He gives Cullen a warm smile, unaware of the things worrying through the Commander's mind. He leans ever-so-slightly on his doorframe as he looks the other over with something appraising and sultry.]
I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind. [His smile curls a little, teasing but happy to see him.]
I'm glad that isn't the case. Please... come in. Make yourself comfortable. [He steps away from the door to go back to the wine and pour out two glasses, bringing them both as he approaches Cullen and offers him the clean glass full of blood red wine.]
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I'll admit the vast amount of paperwork almost made me rethink it.
[ And his nerves, but he's carefully not going to mention those. He's transparent enough with the added ammo. At the invitation, he steps through into the room, slowly lowering himself into one of the empty chairs. His legs protest the motion at first, grumble and creak once he's sitting. Well, it's been much worse. ]
Though I—ah, thank you—think my aide is rather glad to have me out of the office.
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You do tend to spend a lot of time up there in your tower. [He notes, perching himself on the thick armrest of Cullen's chair. His bathrobe is loose, slipping slightly off of a shoulder to reveal a bit more skin. He'll fold one leg over the other knee as he sips his wine.]
Perhaps I had a bit of ulterior motive calling you out for help this evening. I'm not the only one concerned you need to get out more, Commander.
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[ Oh, is that too forward? Cullen hesitates, not sure how those words are going to be taken.
Though they are the truth. He'd much rather spend time with Dorian than to be trapped in his office signing off requisitions. Just, his strong sense of responsibility can be a detriment– he's often accused of all work and no play. It's difficult to tear himself away, even if he knows the whole lot of paper won't set itself ablaze if he leaves it for longer than an hour.
And right now, with Dorian settled on the arm rest, robe sliding incrementally off his shoulder, Cullen thinks all of it could go up in smoke for all he cares. ]
Your maneuvers are certainly less crass than Sera's attempts. [ She tries, he thinks, in her own way. Either that or she's simply annoying him because he's an easy target. Maybe a bit of both.
Dorian crosses his legs and instinctively, he reaches out to adjust the bit of robe over his thigh, trying not to think about the sliver of tan skin on the inside of his thigh. ] Have you all been conspiring?
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Well, to be fair, Sera isn't interested in men... [He trails off slightly and quirks a brow as the Commander sees fit to save his modesty and adjust the cloth over his thigh, as if to hide the tanned skin from view. A mischievous smile curls his lips and mustache before he reaches out to take the hand and keep it there, on his thigh.]
Perhaps... but I doubt we've been conspiring the same things... [He slowly moves the hand, trapped within his own down to the edge of his robe, attempting to guide it up under the cloth and along the warm skin the Commander was trying to hide from view. All the while he's smirking and giving the other a very clear look of desire.]
Come now, Commander, you promised me I could do as I like, and do you expect me not to want to give you the same freedoms?
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[ Maybe there's a few similarities there, though, even if their end motivations are different.
He can feel his face warm as Dorian holds his hand in place, the leather of his glove warming in contact with his skin. Flicking his gaze up, he's reassured by the smirk he gets in response and lets his touch go further up, fingers soon cradling the curve of one sharp hip. ]
It's not that. I, ah– Maker, it's been a while. [ That isn't putting him off, though. It's something he needs to work through, that's all. Tentatively, he leans in, brushing a soft kiss to one exposed collarbone. ]
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Don't worry, we can take it as slow or as fast as you like. [He's content to let the Commander set the pace, to really savor each moment he has with him. He's wanted this for longer than he's willing to admit.
He'll tip the last of his wine back and then reach over to set the glass on a shelf. That now free hand will settle into blond waves, carding gently through them and pondering his next move, curious if the Lion will make one instead.]
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your weight in my arms; light as a feather, heavy as steel || cullen/auvrie
None had shaken the creeping menace of Corypheus from their minds or hearts, but the distance from Haven alone was somewhat healing. At least it was for him.
Upon reaching Skyhold, that relief only grew as he'd taken in the towering walls and high towers. It would be extremely difficult to be surprised at this vantage point. Moreover: this place was defensible in a way that Haven never could have been. Cullen worked tirelessly after their arrival to ensure the guard postings were set, that repairs were seen to in the spots on the walls that would need it the most. Regular training drills picked back up in a much better setup than they'd had previously. He just wished they hadn't needed to learn of this place the hard way. Or that they'd needed to make so much sacrifice to make it so.
Especially not when it had been Auvrie–now Inquisitor–who'd determinedly faced Corypheus and his Archdemon without an ounce of fear. And when it'd been Auvrie once more that brought their hopes back even as he'd plucked her shivering form from the snow. He has a bad habit, he knows, of remembering the worst of things. His siblings have told him for years. Varric has made mention of it as well, in a tone that is both sympathetic and teasing.
But, he knows he will never forget how light Auvrie had been when he'd picked her up. How close to frozen. How they'd all almost lost her. He's been waking in the middle of the night with the ghost of the feeling across his forearms, haunting in how much it drives his anxiety. This night is no exception–though at least the nightmare waited until closer to dawn. Cullen blew out a sigh, watching the weak rays of the morning sun through the broken slats in his ceiling. Another few beats and he knew it was useless to try and go back to sleep.
So he hauls his aching body up and dresses, intent on doing a round along the walls to work off the nervous energy. The motion will help clear his head. He thinks. ]
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she hasn't really had the time to dwell on it, though, given the rush of changes in the last few days. being named inquisitor was both a surprise and not, and auvrie knows not all of the refugees are happy with it; the comments concerning elves are still present, grumbles of those she's helped saved. she's long since let go of the frustration of not being seen as anything but less-than, but it's still exhausting.
on this early morning, sleep eludes her. not nightmares, necessarily, but the ever-present spectre of grief and guilt. she had tried to sort through it with a few of her closest confidants, but everyone else was dealing with their own proverbial baggage. only vivienne seemed to offer the soundest advice; auvrie had made a critically stupid mistake, and she can either let it ruin her, or move forward.
she had intended on finding cullen to chat with him further than their passing comments in the yard, but was loathe to bother him more than usual. he was quiet and comforting in a wholly necessary way, and given the new problem of the mages running amok with the enemy, auvrie imagines cullen isn't exactly thrilled. not that he has ever once held what she is against her; quite the opposite, but cullen is more familiar than most with what happens when mages lose control.
all of these thoughts rattle around her head on an aimless walk along the wall, a warm shawl wrapped around her shoulders. she knows she should be in bed resting and recovering; the trek to skyhold hadn't been restful in the least. but walking helped clear her head, and on this early morning, it seems she is not alone.
it causes auvrie's lips to twitch into a faint smile. typical. ]
Do they not teach you how to have a restful night's sleep at Templar school?
[ it's a teasing call as she continues to close the distance, amused -- and maybe a little concerned. cullen looks exhausted, and must be up for a reason. hopefully nothing too dire. ]