[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

Skyhold gets quieter and quieter as the days move on. It's not a complete stand-down; there's cleanup to do, stragglers to round up, the same sort of business Alistair remembers from the months after the Blight. The Thaw, as Wardens call it. Thedas is thawing again, but the fortress only grows colder for it.

He won't lie: he'd feel warmer if Kieran and Morrigan were still there.

When Cullen suggests a vacation, Alistair lights up, only to deflate slightly when he realizes they'll be "vacationing" in Orlais. There's business to attend in Val Royeaux -- not the sort of business that'll keep Cullen occupied from sunup to sundown, but enough to require an in-person visit for a week or so. On the one hand: Orlais. On the other: he can't argue that time away from Skyhold, especially in Cullen's company, will help.

...So will the cheese, probably.

(Look, as Alistair has said many a time, he is a very predictable man.)

They room at a small place in the university quarter that's downright plain for Val Royeaux. Libraries for Cullen, a cafe around the corner for both of them, limited contact with people trilling about whatever stupid, petty scandal's hit the court this week -- it could be far worse. Alistair takes to writing his letters at the cafe, usually accompanied by some flaky pastry or another.

Today, they're cheese-filled. It's hard to descend too far into a personal funk when you've got a cheese-filled pastry.

Comments

[bringspeopletogether]

"The elfroot."

He turns his head enough to aim a tiny smile up at Cullen.

"Would've left that out if you just wanted to get your hands all over me."

[howtoactfereldan]

"You expressed your dislike of Orlesian soaps and the like." Cullen raises his eyebrows. "Given the choice between some scented oil or other, and elfroot, I thought you'd prefer it. Only fair, if I'm spending the evening feeling you up."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair snorts an equally tiny laugh, returning his head to his arms. "Much more preferable, yes," he admits.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Then we'll reserve the terrible floral thing for hard times." Cullen runs a fingertip straight down Alistair's spine. "Noted."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair shivers, arching into the touch by a measure or two.

"Or the never times," he says, still with that trace of laughter. "Never's good, too."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen returns to work, digging his thumbs into the muscles close to Alistair's neck.

"If you insist." Smiling.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair subsides into another quiet, pleased noise; it trails off into a sigh.

The more Cullen works, the easier it becomes to just -- stay present. Same as most of the times they're alone together, he supposes. Maybe if he's lucky, he can hold onto that feeling after Cullen's done and stop all this damn wallowing.

[howtoactfereldan]

Soon, perhaps. If he can gauge where Alistair is, mentally, once Cullen is done.

It's worth a shot. "Tired?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Mm. A little," he admits. "Not terribly."

More relaxed than tired, he thinks. Another sign of Cullen's good work.

[howtoactfereldan]

A good sign. But not quite yet: Cullen also doesn't want Alistair to associate a decent backrub with an ambush.

Another few moments of silence while Cullen works. Then: "Any other spots I should get?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Maybe..."

He untucks one hand long enough to gesture to the right side of his neck.

"A little more along there?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen moves his hand where Alistair points. His touch is a little lighter, now: it would be helpful if Alistair could still turn his head in the morning.

His other hand he settles on Alistair's other shoulder, with a gentle squeeze.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Perfect," he sighs. His hand drifts to one of the pillows. "Thank you."

The knots in his neck take longer to ease than the ones in his back, but gradually, they give way, becoming pliant under Cullen's touch.

[howtoactfereldan]

"We don't have anywhere to be." Softly. "Rest, Alistair. It's all right."

[bringspeopletogether]

A soft, wry laugh.

"I'm trying," he says; it has a faint air of apology to it. Not like the tension he carries is Cullen's doing -- rather the opposite.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I know."

He brushes a hand over Alistair's hair.

"Anywhere else?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"No," he murmurs. "I think I'm good."

A beat; a twitch of a smile.

"I could make up a spot or two if you want to keep your hands on me."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Mm... no," Cullen decides; he's smirking faintly. Instead, he moves down the bed just a little -- enough to comfortably pillow himself on Alistair's back, as though Alistair were a particularly strange bedroll. "Making up spots won't be necessary."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair chuckles. "Oh good. That does make things easier."

After a bit of careful maneuvering, he reaches back in search of Cullen's hand.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen decides to help the process, even as he informs Alistair, "You're lumpy."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Too many pastries?"

He twines his fingers with Cullen's.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Too much cheese."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Pfft. No such thing." Loftily. "...Nothing that can't be fixed with a few good laps around town, anyway."

[howtoactfereldan]

"And a purgative," Cullen mutters in his ear.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair swats Cullen's shoulder, dissolving into laughter.

"You're horrid," he says, in a way that sounds a lot more like I love you.