[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

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's mouth twitches. He presses his knuckles to his mouth.

So far, it has taken very little to push him into a blind panic, into nearly as blind a rage, and into tears. Naturally, it only follows that those three words be what tips him into...well. Yes. Let's be honest.

It's giggling.

Hysterical, not quite controlled giggling that, after a few moments, sends Alistair stumbling to the bed so he can sit down rather than fight gravity and the laughter.

[howtoactfereldan]

Yes, well.

Cullen snorts, and bends to pick up the mail from the floor, very carefully draping it over the chair. Deadpan: "See how much you're laughing when you're wearing spring colors in the depths of winter. Horrors."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Terrible," he wheezes around the giggles. "Can't imagine."

Turns out gravity isn't done with him yet, not when the laughter's weakened him this much. Alistair lets himself fall backward onto the mattress.

"However would you survive?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen drops down to sit on the bed beside him. "Everything I wear is very tasteful. You lot are the ones who'll have to suffer the scandalized whispers of anyone who gives a damn about that sort of thing."

[bringspeopletogether]

"No, no -- " A break to allow for more snickering. "You're in this too now. All the forces need to model the new uniforms. Promotes unit cohesion."

The laughter finally starts to peter out as Alistair gets himself under control.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Unfortunately, I'm the commander, and I do what I want," he says cheerfully. "And in the interests of not giving my colleagues more reason to focus their attention on my habits, I'll continue with my current option, thank you very much."

[bringspeopletogether]

"You're still no fun."

If he yawns, it'll probably make Cullen pick up his earlier insistence that Alistair needs to sleep. He's trying very hard not to succumb. Maybe if just...closes his eyes for a moment, though, that'll be all right? He can close his eyes and still stay awake.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Someone has to be the responsible one."

He glances down at Alistair; is he falling asleep? Maker's breath, Cullen hopes so.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Just glad it's not me," he murmurs.

Their back-and-forth's like the rhythm of an old, comforting song. It's quite soothing. And the bed really is remarkably soft.





"I'm still awake, by the way."

[howtoactfereldan]

The corner of Cullen's mouth turns up; he stretches, and leans back on his hands.

"I never presumed otherwise," he assures Alistair.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Good."

Quiet, for a beat, before Alistair lifts his hand and points toward Cullen.

"If I do fall asleep, though. Purely hypothetically. Wake me up if it gets bad."

No need to elaborate on what he means by gets bad.

[howtoactfereldan]

Another small, fleeting smile.

"If it gets bad."

He shifts, grabs Alistair's hand, squeezes.

"You have my word."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Thank you."

He is absolutely not falling asleep, dammit. That last little reassurance from Cullen is -- is -- reassuring, that's all. Enough to get a little more tension out of his shoulders. Make it easier to sink into the bed.

Alistair opens his eyes, just to check that Cullen's still there, and closes them again.




It only takes a few minutes after that for his grip on Cullen's hand to slacken.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen gives it a few minutes before he carefully puts down Alistair's hand and eases off the bed. The spare blanket's in the closet; it's a moment's work to drape it over Alistair.

A soft sigh; he retrieves his book, opens it, glances at the chumproll --

No. He won't tell anyone. Not yet.



Cullen leans back against the wall for balance to remove his boots. His jacket goes over the chair not holding Alistair's mail. Then it's back to the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. Until he knows he can focus enough to read, he can play chess.

[bringspeopletogether]

At certain levels of profound exhaustion, it's like the creatures of the Fade take one look at you and go yeah, let's leave that one alone tonight. No dreams -- nothing that leaves an imprint on the mind, anyway. Just blank, black rest.

Alistair would be grateful, if he were...well. Not in the middle of that utterly insensate level of sleep.

Occasionally, he shifts: a roll onto his side, or a moment to pull the blanket tighter. Once or twice, he snores. Otherwise, for a couple of hours, it's downright peaceful.




Then his breath begins to shift, too, from the slow rhythm of sleep to harsh, hissing gasps.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen has dozed off, in the manner of soldiers who can catnap sitting up. As such, when Alistair's breathing changes, Cullen comes fully awake and alert very quickly.

He won't let Alistair have to sit with it longer than he must. Cullen snaps his book shut and puts it on the nightstand, and rests his hand on Alistair's forehead.

(Which leaves him another hand to use if Alistair tries to strike at him. Cullen's got experience.)

"Alistair. Wake up. Now, please. You're safe. You're dreaming."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair bolts awake, wild-eyed, a shout half-caught in his throat. There's someone -- something -- it's got a hand on him and he can't get to his sword in time, there's nothing he can --

He instantly lashes out a fist straight for Cullen's jaw.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen was expecting that.

Doesn't mean he's able to keep Alistair from making contact, especially at this short a distance, but he's able to push off a little of the blow, at least.

"Alistair. It's Cullen. You're safe, remember? Wake up. It's all right."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair freezes. He's still gasping like a drowned man, staring at Cullen with no focus to his gaze.

Slowly, his fingers uncurl from their fist. A blink, two: his expression finally clears.

"Shit," he whispers, and sags, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

[howtoactfereldan]

Yes, well.

As long as Alistair's eyes are closed, Cullen takes a moment to feel around his jaw; maybe it'll bruise, maybe it won't. He can get a poultice later. Not important.

Instead he shifts off the bed just long enough to grab the jar of water off the table before returning to his former position next to Alistair. "Here."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Thank you," he mutters, unable to look Cullen in the eye as he accepts the jar. Carefully, he unscrews the lid.

(His hands aren't shaking. Good.)

"I'm sorry. I -- " No, he decides; he doesn't need to clarify why he punched Cullen in the face. "Are you all right?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Mild:

"I'm only sorry you didn't get a really clear shot. I assume you must have wanted to do that more than once, over the years."

Smiling, very small.

[bringspeopletogether]

That gets a tiny snort out of him. "If you're volunteering for another round, well."

Alistair ventures a sip of water. Concentrates on the smooth, solid feel of the jar as he cradles it in both palms. "No, honestly, I think I only ever wanted to trip you. Or get a good smack across the back of the head."

He saves the punches for moments of true anger. (Or moments when he's unarmed and being swarmed by demons.) Mere annoyance doesn't require something that...definitive.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen grunts. "Should've tried harder to be insufferable, then."

He nudges Alistair's shoulder, gently.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair looks up, at last, and shapes a halfhearted smile before returning his attention to the jar. He drinks, waits until the churning in his stomach backs down, drinks a little more.

"So," he says, wry, "as you continue building up Skyhold, would there happen to be some more isolated quarters available? I'd hate to wake up the whole Inquisition with my screaming six times a night. Terrible for morale."