[sandbox] out of the abyss

[bringspeopletogether]

It starts as a shimmer out by the lake. Look at the water from the right angle, and the light glinting off it looks a bit...green. Sickly.

(Familiar, if you're from a certain time and place in Thedas.)

Look up some minutes later, and you can pinpoint the source: a thin, glowing ribbon uncoiling in the sky. It emerges slowly, but the more light it casts, the more momentum it gains, until it explodes outward with an enormous crack like lightning splintering the ground.

A much quieter thump follows as something hits the dirt.

Someone.

The glow vanishes; the person doesn't move for a long beat. (Get up, he's telling himself, get up -- ) He manages to drag his hands level with his shoulders, press down to bear himself upward an inch, look up at where he's landed.

Get. Up.

Another shove, and Alistair lurches to his feet, sword hauled from its scabbard and shield at the ready. His breath rattles, harsh against his throat, as he stares wild-eyed around the grounds.

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

"One among many."

There are... lots of them, lately. Usually surrounding the Inquisitor.

"So... let's try to have you not run into anything for a while."

[bringspeopletogether]

One last huff of breath before his shoulders finally still. "I'll try."

He's pretty sure if Cullen lets go of him, he'll fall straight backward onto the bed. Alistair tries to push back against the swimmy feeling of imminent sleep for a bit longer.

(He doesn't want to go back. Not so soon. Maker, not after he just got out -- )

"I'll have to go to Weisshaupt eventually." Slower; more reluctant. "To let them know I'm all right. To...help."

[howtoactfereldan]

"We'll send a raven first." He's sobered up. "Maybe try to get word to Hawke on her way. And in the meantime... you can rest at Skyhold. Or -- wherever you'd like. But you have a place with us, until... whenever. Don't -- worry about that now, all right?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Perhaps." A bit distant. Briefly, he considers asking if Morrigan's still at Skyhold, and dismisses the idea in one swift mental shove.

(She made fairly regular appearances in the Fade. So did Kieran.)

"...You said something about a cheese platter?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Whatever you want."

Crooked smile.

"I just thought that would have the most chance of... breaking through."

[bringspeopletogether]

A tiny, amused snort. "Predictable."

He could mean himself; he might mean Cullen. Probably both.

"Broth might be a better idea. For now. It's...been a while. I can't remember how long."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I had that thought."

If Cullen had a free hand, he'd rub the back of his neck.

"Will you -- be all right, if I go downstairs for a moment? I can try to have someone bring it up, but I don't know who might be around that I could message from up here."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods. "I'll be fine."

Maybe it'll even give him some time to finish regrouping.

"Just -- " His fingers tighten on Cullen's for an instant. "If I've fallen asleep when you get back, wake me up. Please."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Of course," Cullen says immediately.

He's not going to question that. How could he, when he's felt the same more times than he can count?

"And I'll leave that here, too." He nods at his sword. "So you know -- I have to come back for it." That last -- a little awkward. "I'll be back."

[bringspeopletogether]

"All right." Softly.

A breath, and Alistair forces himself to slacken his hold on Cullen's hand. Pulls away a little so Cullen can get up.

He's already thinking through his options: maybe if he doesn't take off his plate, that'll help him stay awake. He could always start walking the length of the room, fatigue be damned. Why not, if it's just him in here for a few minutes, he could sing at the top of his lungs to force his mind to keep working.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen squeezes Alistair's shoulder once he rises. "I'll be as quick as I can," he says.

Food. Water. A change of clothes. An actual cheese plate. Shouldn't take too long.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods. He keeps his eyes on Cullen until the door clicks shut behind him, leaving Alistair alone in the room.

Then he sags forward to put his face in both hands, breath ragged. If he's going to sing anything, first he'll have to peel his thoughts away from their abrupt, frantic cycle of Maker, Maker help me, Andraste guide me, anybody who's listening, help me --

He's not in the Fade anymore. Everyone's all right. He's safe.

He doesn't know what to do.

A deep breath in. Another. Alistair laces his fingers behind his neck, letting his head hang. "You know Andraste's old mabari," he mutters, "he don't show up in the Chant, and if you ask those holy sisters well they'll say Andraste can't -- "

If he can barely remember a damn word of the Chant, at least he can sing a tavern song about Andraste while his mind's scrabbling to reach for whatever higher power it can find.

[howtoactfereldan]

Five minutes, maybe a little less. That's all. Cullen treats it like a sortie -- move fast, stop for nothing and no one, accomplish your objective, return to your defensive position.

He keeps the list in his head, repeats it to himself. Food. (Bread and broth. A roast chicken, for him and for Alistair.) Water. (Clear and cool, stowed away in a glass jar.) A change of clothes. (Plain, soft linen for sleeping; something comfortable and practical for when Alistair wakes.) A cheese plate. (A fancy one.)

Laden with bags, Cullen doesn't quite sprint up the stairs, but neither does he move at a normal pace.

"Alistair, I'm back," he says, before he enters. Just in case there were any ideas about demons that reappeared while he was gone.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair jerks his head up. He's scrambled halfway to his feet before he remembers; it leaves him swaying, forces him to brace one hand on the wall.

It's Cullen. It's just Cullen. He's all right.

His plate feels too tight. "Still here," he croaks, trying to keep the words light.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen looks at the hand on the wall. Looks at Alistair.

The bags go in a nearby chair; the cheese plate goes on the table next to it. "Good." Calm. "If you still don't want to sleep... can you choose? Food or a bath? There's clean clothes in here."

[bringspeopletogether]

He gnaws his lip. "Food, I think," he decides eventually.

There's too much risk of him falling asleep in a warm bath. A cold bath, that might be an option, once he's...

Noticing where Cullen's attention went, Alistair -- carefully -- pushes himself away from the wall and attempts to draw himself straighter. That lasts until he gets a whiff of the food; his stomach lets out a pointed growl, his knees going weak at the smell.

He lifts his chin, eyes closing in something nearly like bliss as he breathes deep. "Definitely food."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen laughs, and picks up the bags from the chair. "Sit, then. Broth first."

He rummages through the bag with the food, and brings out the jars, the bowl, the cup, the bread. "If that sits well, we've a chicken to split. It can wait."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair moves where he's directed. He doesn't fall into the chair with quite as much force this time -- mostly because he can use the seat back and table for support as he lowers himself down.

(The cheese plate gets a look full of longing. Yes, truly, the worst part of this whole business is that he can't inhale the entire platter of magnificent dairy products straightaway.)

"You spoil me," he says, reaching for the broth.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen pulls the folded clothes out of their bag and arranges them on the bed -- it's frequently awkward, being watched while you eat, and Alistair's day is bad enough.

"I admit I wanted the roast chicken," he says, cheerful. "My motives thus aren't entirely altruistic."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair snorts, amused. "Then come join me and have some of it."

Even if Alistair isn't eating solid food for the moment, that doesn't mean Cullen can't partake.

The warmth of the broth shocks him, when he gets around to taking a sip. He'd forgotten this, too: that it's possible to feel warm with something other than the clammy sickness of too much adrenaline. He's pretty sure this is the best thing he's ever eaten (well, drank) in his whole life.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen pauses.

"I forgot a knife," he says.

Something glimmers from the formerly empty bag.

"...never mind."

He joins Alistair at the table. "Aren't we civilized."

[bringspeopletogether]

A lopsided twist of a smile. "My standards for what counts as 'civilized' have fallen a bit since we last met."

He swallows another mouthful of broth. So far, his stomach seems rather confused by the situation: it keeps making brief overtures toward queasy, only to settle down to regular old hunger seconds later.

[howtoactfereldan]

"...what, since we were on a battlefield in a Blighted desert inhaling bits of old Tevinter brick?"

Cullen says this as he slices into the chicken just enough to rip off a piece with his fingers. He's very classy.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair blinks, visibly thrown -- and, in short order, visibly trying to recall what event Cullen just referenced. After a beat, he gives up in favor of more broth.

"Something like that."

...Oh. Yes. Adamant. That's what he meant.

[howtoactfereldan]

He eyes Alistair, a little worried.

Not like scintillating conversation is the point of this, though; the point's to get something in Alistair that will help him function.

Still, he's loathe to let silence linger too long. "I got a letter from my sister," he says instead. "She found me again. Even wrote back this time."