[milliways] au week

[bringspeopletogether]

They've gotten most of the bodies out and given them proper funerals. The intact ones, anyway. Alistair's said a lot of prayers over a lot of corpses in the past several weeks; after the first ten or so, he couldn't bring himself to look at their faces. He's pretty sure the stink's never coming off his skin.

Tonight, when he walks into the hastily-assembled barracks on the opposite shore of Lake Calenhad, he finds himself blinking at the bright light of Milliways rather than the torchlight of his quarters. Quietly, he slips inside and makes his way to the bar. First, he strips off enough of his plate so he can move a bit more freely. Then: a candle, a small statue of Andraste, and a bottle of something dark and strong-smelling that promises to knock him flat if he doesn't respect it.

Alistair knows there's a small chapel out in the forest. It's covered in Earth iconography he doesn't understand, but it'll do. More prayers first, and then, if that doesn't work -- he already suspects it won't work -- disrespecting that bottle until it gives him the hangover he deserves.

So there he is ten minutes later, head awkwardly bowed before a makeshift altar to Andraste, running through what feels like the thousandth time he's recited the Canticle of Trials since returning to Ferelden. The bottle, unopened for now, rests at his feet.

"...I shall not fear the legion,
Should they set themselves against me.
In the long hours of the night
When hope has abandoned me,
I will see the stars and know
Your Light remains."

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

"Would it help if you did?"

He's still holding himself stiffly in Alistair's arms.

[bringspeopletogether]

"I -- " He draws himself away, finally; his cheeks are damp. He scrubs at them with the heel of his palm. "Yes."

I want to help.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen studies him for a moment.

Carefully he reaches into his pocket and produces a silver coin, its face -- a woman's face -- worn down by a thumb, worrying away at it.

"His brother gave him this when he left for training. He kept it even though he wasn't supposed to. You take it. Give it back to Branson one day."

He presses the coin into Alistair's hand. It's warm.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair pulls in another slightly unsteady breath. He closes his fingers around the coin. Without lifting his gaze, he nods.

"I will. I promise."

He doesn't feel any calmer, really, but...quieter, perhaps. It's easier to focus on one small task amid the enormity of everything else. Move this bit of rubble here instead of clear out the Tower. Give Cullen's brother the coin instead of grapple with the fact that your friend is gone.

(Mostly gone. Whatever.)

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's hands drop to his lap.

He nudges his toe against the pew in front of them. Again. And again.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair pockets the coin.

He reaches for the bottle. Takes more than one gulp this time, letting the burn dissolve the tightness in his throat. Elbows on his knees, he turns his eyes toward the flickering light of the candle.




"Will you come back here?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"I don't know."

Thud. Thud.

"Sometimes people don't see me. You might not want to see me."

[bringspeopletogether]

"You'd know if I didn't, though. You can -- " Alistair taps his temple with his forefinger. "You know what I'm thinking. Right?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Only if you need help."

Soft. Absent.

"You can use your powers to see me whenever you want. But most people can't. They don't see me unless I want them to."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Oh."

A little stunned. Alistair looks down at his hands. He turns the one not holding the bottle palm-up. Three and a half months of being Knight-Templar Alistair versus ten years of merely being a templar-in-training: it's not yet second nature to call up the full strength of what the lyrium's granted him.

"I wouldn't do that," he says eventually. "If you don't want me to see you -- I won't make you."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's shoulders hunch as he keeps kicking the pew.

"It's all right," he says. "It won't hurt me."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair frowns.

"It doesn't matter if it won't hurt," he says. "It's not -- "

It isn't right.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's head lowers.

"It is."

[bringspeopletogether]

"No," he insists. "If you don't want to do something, I won't make you. If you don't want me or -- or anybody else to see you, I'm not going to shove you out in the open and yell, 'Look, everybody, it's Cullen!'"

Another long drink from the bottle.

"It's not fair. You got a lot of not-fair on you already."

[howtoactfereldan]

He shakes his head.

"It's not like that. It's not. I'm not -- I'm him, but I'm not him, I'm different. It was an accident. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Maker's breath -- "

Alistair digs his free hand into his hair, shutting his eyes.

"What are you apologizing for?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"You want him like he used to be and I couldn't save him. You want me to be him and I can't help."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's silent.

(Cullen's not wrong. That's the worst of it.)

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'm sorry," he whispers again.

[bringspeopletogether]

"You've still helped."

Soft.

"I know what happened, at least."

And he drinks.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen curls up in the corner of the pew again, and looks away.

[bringspeopletogether]

The alcohol's starting to do its work. Alistair's chest doesn't feel so tight anymore. It's easier to breathe without thinking he smells more rot; it's also a little harder to keep his grip on the bottle.

Maybe he should get the rest of Trials out of the way before he finishes drinking himself into oblivion.

With care, Alistair scoots to the front edge of the pew. He rests his arms across the back of the bench in front of them; lets the bottle hang loose from his fingers; lowers his head to his arms.

...Where did he leave off?

"Do not grieve for me, Maker of All.
Though all others may forget You,
Your name is etched into my every step.
I will not forsake You, even if I forget myself."

[howtoactfereldan]

In the place of Cullen:

Nothing.

[bringspeopletogether]

A long sigh. "Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm."

Alistair rubs his hand over his face, lifts his head.

The pew's empty, save him. The candle flicks shadows over the statue of Andraste.

Everything's silent.

I shall endure.