[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

[howtoactfereldan]

"You too. Now shh."

He plans to lie awake and think. Difficult to do when Alistair is droning on about cheese. Some droning is fine. But Cullen, though he's a ashamed of it, has his limits.

[bringspeopletogether]

Just be glad he didn't start listing the wares of every cheesemonger in a two-mile radius, ranked alphabetically and then best to worst.

(The vacation is still young. It could happen.)

Soon enough, Alistair falls into a light doze.




Perhaps half an hour later, he twitches hard enough to knee Cullen in the leg. His eyes snap open.

Within moments, he's worked free of Cullen and put a foot of space between them; sitting up, he puts his elbows on his knees and digs his hands into his hair.

[howtoactfereldan]

It's early yet for nightmares. They usually come closer to morning -- coming out of the depths of slumber.

So Cullen doesn't move at all. And doesn't say anything, just yet. If it's different, it -- bears watching, first.

[bringspeopletogether]

He can't breathe. Why can't he --

There's water by the basin, he remembers. (There's a basin. He's -- not somewhere safe, but somewhere with water.)

Alistair pushes himself out of bed, unsteadily. He pours water from the pitcher into one cupped palm, sucking it down like he's spent a week in the Hissing Wastes. Another palmful to splash on his face; another for the back of his neck, up into his hair.

He scrubs his face more than necessary once that's done.

(Cullen didn't move. Maybe Alistair got lucky and didn't wake him up -- ?)

[howtoactfereldan]

It's not that he's sick. That's good.

Now Cullen sits up, shoving the covers down, sitting crosslegged.

Quietly, he says, "Can I help with that?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair flinches; puts his back to the wall without thinking as he whirls toward the voice.

Cullen. Right.

He has to breathe, damn it.

Hoarse: "With what?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"The water." He doesn't move yet. "If you'd like some more."

[bringspeopletogether]

Oh.

All right, that -- that does sound helpful.

Alistair nods, carefully. Other than that, he doesn't move either.

[howtoactfereldan]

"You weren't asleep for very long," Cullen says, edging toward standing. "It's not late. Would you rather come with me to the kitchen? If not, I can bring more water back here."

[bringspeopletogether]

Stay or go, stay or go -- he has to shut his eyes so he can try to focus. To think.

"Kitchen," he decides, after a few too many seconds.

Being left alone sounds like a worse proposition than moving somewhere else. He thinks. Maybe.

[howtoactfereldan]

"All right." He keeps his voice low, and is the first to move to the door. It means turning his back on Alistair; it hasn't escaped Cullen that the first thing Alistair did when Cullen spoke was position himself for defense.

As he pads down the hall: "I could use a nice cup of tea myself."

[bringspeopletogether]

If he follows Cullen down the hallway, he won't be able to see anything behind them. Something could attack in a matter of seconds. There's no escape.

He stands, rooted to the floor, struggling to breathe. When Cullen is nearly to the kitchen, Alistair follows, quickly.

[howtoactfereldan]

First things first: Cullen pours Alistair some water, putting the mug down on the table. He then turns to start the process of making tea: chamomile, he thinks. If Alistair wants some, fine. If not, it won't keep Cullen awake.

Wait a little more, a voice whispers. A little longer.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair hesitates a beat. He pulls out one of the free chairs; forces himself to sit; draws the mug closer, after another beat, to drain its contents.

It tastes -- fine. Not like the brackish water of underground caves. Not like the rotted, algae-coated ponds in the Fade.

He hunches his shoulders, staring down into the cup.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen glances over his shoulder briefly.

And says, still by the hearth:

"Was it a nightmare?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"I don't know."

He scrubs a hand down his face.

"Not quite. Do you ever -- right before you fall asleep. If you're thinking about something too much. It's not exactly a dream, but what you're thinking becomes...you can't quite keep your grip on it anymore, and it becomes more vivid?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"It's... been some time. But yes."

He leans back on the table, half-sitting, arms folded, facing Alistair. "What is it?"

[bringspeopletogether]

He shakes his head, unable to answer right away.

(He's avoided talking about it for so long. Why break the streak now?)





At last, low: "The Calling. That's all."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen exhales very slowly.

After a moment he reaches out, letting his hand curve along Alistair's jaw.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair lifts his head, meeting Cullen's eyes.

His throat bobs; he covers Cullen's hand, seeking out the crooked line of his knuckles.

[howtoactfereldan]

Well. It was a good run.

I wouldn't change anything, he thinks. It feels as though he's wrapped in cotton wool.

Cullen should confirm.

"It's happening again?" His voice is even.

[bringspeopletogether]

"No."

He squeezes Cullen's hand. The question pulls him further out of his own thoughts: quicker, now, he brings Cullen's hand down to clasp between both palms, some of the focus returning to his gaze.

"No," he says again, quiet and firm. "I'm fine. I'm not hearing it. Only thinking about it too much."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen closes his eyes in relief.

"Well." Light, now, but not entirely even. "Could be worse, then."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Much," he agrees, and kisses Cullen's fingertips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

[howtoactfereldan]

Scare isn't quite the right word, but it's also beyond not the time to get into that.

"It's all right," he says softly. "What about it, then? It's been -- on your mind?"