[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair surprises himself: he adapts to the Basin a lot quicker than he expected.

The camps feel -- snug, he decides. In a good way. Trees overhead, a limited number of egress points, a vantage point so high it puts every night by the ladder to shame: they're not the stone walls of Skyhold, but maybe they're the next best thing. After an initial restless night or two, he sleeps soundly.

(Knowing he's surrounded by lots of people with sharp, pointy weapons? Also helpful.)

Joining the patrol rotations seems like a decent next step. No point in being in the field, especially after all that training with Bull, if he's just going to twiddle his thumbs all day.

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

"Any portraits of me stay upstairs," he warns.

[bringspeopletogether]

"And just when I planned to commission a full-size painting of you as a nug." Alistair heaves a sigh. "Damn. It was going to be your birthday present, too."

[howtoactfereldan]

"You weren't, and it wasn't."

[bringspeopletogether]

Straight-faced: "You got me. It was going to be a portrait of you as a bear."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen says thoughtfully, "It's been some time since I wielded the threat of porridge. It might be time to bring it back."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's jaw drops.

"But the porridge here is even worse than Skyhold's porridge!"

Would you truly be so cruel, Cullen?

[howtoactfereldan]

"Making it an even more potent weapon." Cheerful.

[bringspeopletogether]

Guess that means yes.

Alistair pulls a face and grumbles, good-naturedly. "Fine, fine. No silly portraits. Only very solemn and staid ones that never see the light of day."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I thought we agreed that cariacatures were superior anyhow?" Cullen squeezes his hand.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Did we?" Alistair returns the squeeze. "I suppose so. They're more true to life anyhow. Stodgy paintings look nice, but caricatures really capture the essence of a person."

[howtoactfereldan]

"And forget that we've never seen nugs with moustaches in the wild."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair lifts one finger, very seriously, and says:

"Yet."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen begins to laugh quietly.

"Yet," he says. Fond.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair beams, and leans over to kiss Cullen on the cheek.

They're nearly to the lake. The ground has gone a bit softer underfoot; a damp, faintly green smell suffuses the air.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Shame you reclaimed your sock," Cullen observes. "We could have fished."

[bringspeopletogether]

"I can always sacrifice another one for the cause." Alistair breathes deep, filling his lungs with the fresh air. "If you've line and a hook to spare, anyway."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I do."

Here goes.

"I won't need to take them with me, when I go to tour the camps for a few days."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair blinks.

"Sorry, what?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Farrow's coming in late tonight."

He tightens his hold on Alistair's hand.

"I can arrange to have him stay tomorrow, but I'll need to go with him, when he goes the following day."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Oh."

It sounds automatic. Like he's belatedly realized he needs to say something, despite having no idea what to say. Alistair looks over the water -- absurdly glad, for a moment, that Cullen didn't tell him earlier, while he was still out of sorts from the day's patrol.

At last, he drags his other hand through his hair, sighs, and mumbles, "Well, shit."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen echoes his sigh.

Not much louder: "Depending on how tomorrow goes... you could come. If you'd like."

But he doesn't sound very enthusiastic about it.

[bringspeopletogether]

A tiny frisson of dread runs up Alistair's back. He breathes through it, reminds himself: he doesn't want you to go.

And yet.

Hesitant, "Do you...not think it's wise for me to come?"

[howtoactfereldan]

He's got to choose his words carefully.

In the meantime, Cullen slips his arm around Alistair's waist.

"The fewer of us there are, the faster we move. And the faster we are, the sooner you and I can go home."

What Cullen doesn't say: And if I take time to do what we did when you walked into our tent, that slows us down, which might be dangerous on top of everything else.

[bringspeopletogether]

He leans his head against Cullen's: automatic, too, but in the way a compass seeks true north.

What Cullen's saying makes sense. And -- much as Alistair doesn't want to admit it, he knows he's a liability. They're at a very delicate point in his training: he can hold himself together in the field, but only just. Maker knows what might tip the balance from capable to not so much.

So he nods, eventually, silent. Wraps his arm around Cullen in kind.

[howtoactfereldan]

Almost -- almost -- idly, he turns just enough to touch his lips to Alistair's forehead.

"We won't call it a firm decision until tomorrow night," Cullen says, softer, after a long moment. "One way or the other. All right?"