[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]

The smile grows. Solemn, as Alistair lifts the jar in a toast: "You have a deal."

[howtoactfereldan]

Light: "Ah, but I haven't outlined my terms. -- not that they're actual terms," he says hastily. "You've a place with us as long as you want it, you know that. Just, you know, if you get bored... plenty of recruits that need training, or -- advice, or whatever."

Cullen rubs the back of his neck. "Sometimes it helps to know that... you can be of use. Later. So don't worry about that, is what I wanted to say. Whenever you're ready. If it becomes important to you."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's expression, on its gradual post-nightmare shift toward amiable, stutters at the mention of terms. But Cullen's offering clarification an instant later, and -- it's all right. It's fine. He's safe.

He rubs his thumb along the ridges circling the top of the jar, thinking. "You said something about the remaining Wardens still being around," he ventures, uncertain. "Is that right?"

He can't remember what Cullen said they were doing -- rebuilding off on their own, working with the Inquisition, or something else.

[howtoactfereldan]

"The Orlesian Wardens, yes." Cullen stretches out his shoulder, bringing his arm across his chest. "They're pursuing a darkspawn outbreak in Val Gamord. I'd imagine you'd be well within your rights to stay put until we hear from Hawke."

That, and Cullen isn't sure the Wardens will make it out in one piece. Long way to go only to find nothing, or worse than nothing.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair nods. Dry, "Definitely not suggesting I go into the field like -- " He taps his temple, illustratively. "I just...wondered. About their own training. I was the senior Warden. Technically still am, I guess. I'm just not sure..."

Get exiled by the Warden-Commander of Orlais because you object to blood magic, find out half your compatriots are in thrall to all sorts of terrible things, discover others of your compatriots killed the Divine, and it leaves a bit of a sour taste in your mouth.

(And yet. He's devoted ten years of his life in service to the Wardens. And the ones that are left, the ones that broke free -- he can still hear Hawke's words. A Warden must help them rebuild.)

"It's better I stay at Skyhold for now."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Yes." Quietly, as he switches arms. "For several reasons, chief among them being that we know Corypheus has power over the Wardens, and he's shared that knowledge with the Venatori."

Cullen's looking ahead, steadily, determinedly. And not at Alistair.

"It doesn't get much safer than Skyhold until we defeat him."

[bringspeopletogether]

Ah. Of course.

Alistair's mouth twists. He keeps tracing the screw threads around the rim of the jar.

There's no accusation in his tone -- just tired resignation -- when he says, quietly, "No better people to keep an eye on me."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's mouth twists.

"I'm not worried about you, I'm worried for you."

[bringspeopletogether]

"No, I know." He sighs, and kneads his forehead. "If it's any reassurance, I can't hear the Calling anymore. I don't know if that's because Nightmare's dead, Corypheus can't reach this place, or if I've less chance of -- something happening now."

[howtoactfereldan]

"In theory," Cullen says, frowning -- and then stops himself. "Never mind. I'll tell you later. It's not important."

It's extremely important: Corypheus could walk in here at any time, and given what's happened so far Cullen has a sneaking feeling that Corypheus won't care too much about the rules of the place.

Cullen is also pretty sure Alistair would probably prefer not to think about that at the moment.

"But I think -- Corypheus can't reach this place, and I've not heard any reports of the Wardens continuing to experience the effects of the Calling. I suspect -- I hope -- that he's... stopped whatever it was he did."

[bringspeopletogether]

A small crease forms between Alistair's eyebrows, a precursor to a frown. It lingers even after Cullen's dismissal.

"All right." No louder than before. "Good. That -- it's a start."

A beat, and another tiny twitch of a smile. "Least it makes it easier to hear myself think."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Yes," he agrees, straight-faced. "It must be very pleasant to hear that fly buzzing around in all that empty space."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair rolls his eyes; the smile stays put. "I'll have you know whatever's buzzing around is at least as big as a good-sized beetle."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Oh? And how big is a good-sized beetle, exactly?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Aboooout..."

Alistair squints, considering, then makes a circle with thumb and forefinger and holds it up.

"Give or take a bit."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen wrinkles his nose.

"I'm sure it was a very pleasant experience squeezing it in your ear."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair considers this. Then, mock-prim, he says, "I'd rather not speak of it," and drinks more water.

The jar's nearly empty, and thirst doesn't seem as imminent a need as before. Reaching for the cap, Alistair screws it back into place before regarding Cullen for a beat.

More serious: "I can take watch if you need. Or go get a poultice."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen blinks, looking at him. "What for? -- do you need one?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"No, I'm fine, I meant -- "

(All right, he still aches abominably in more than one spot, but more sleep seems a better solution than a poultice there.)

Awkwardly, Alistair gestures to his own jaw. "If -- never mind."

[howtoactfereldan]

Comprehension!

"While I wouldn't wish to cast any aspersions on your hand-to-hand skills," he says cheerfully, "I've had worse."

(Reminder that Cullen got that scar on his face in a bar fight and refused to let Ysalwen do anything poultice-related until it was too late to prevent said scarring. (◡‿◡✿))

[bringspeopletogether]

A snort. Deadpan, "I don't know whether to be relieved or insulted."

Spoiler: it's the former. Definitely the former.

He sets the jar aside and makes himself more comfortable against the headboard. A couple hours of rest hasn't fixed everything, but it's gotten Alistair over the biggest hill: he isn't going to fall asleep unless he wants to sleep, now.

[howtoactfereldan]

Which probably means never again. Which isn't really up Cullen's alley.

A sidelong look.

"You could be concerned for the welfare of my face."

[bringspeopletogether]

"I thought I made that clear when I offered to get a poultice." Eyebrows raised, arms folded. "Would you rather I weep and compose bard's songs about whatever slight bruising you might get?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Yes," Cullen says, thoughtful. "You could leave out the weeping. And make an effort to stay in tune. But yes, I'd rather like to see that."

It's like cards. Assume everybody's bluffing.

[bringspeopletogether]

"No, no, the weeping and off-key singing are mandatory." Solemn. "How else will the whole of Thedas truly understand the sorrow of a barely-visible red spot on your jaw?"