[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]

Cullen doesn't move.





"C'n sleep here," he offers. "Might do it anyway."

[bringspeopletogether]

"You'll wake up with a hangover and a crick in your neck," says Alistair. "That won't do."

His hand keeps moving.

"Do you..." Hesitant. "Want me to join you, when you go to bed?"

(The one potential advantage of Cullen being drunk: maybe he won't deflect with a do as you'd like. Alistair can hope.)

[howtoactfereldan]

Now Cullen shrugs roughly.

"Ask yourself that. Not me."

[bringspeopletogether]

Well. It was worth a try.






"I'm sorry, Cullen."

Barely audible. His hand's gone still.

[howtoactfereldan]

Now Cullen stiffens.

"Gonna pretend I didn't hear that." Truculent.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair huffs a breath. Tiredly: "All right."

Should have gone with his first instinct, then.

"Let's get you to bed before you fall asleep here?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen sits up halfway and scowls.

"Not if you're getting all penitent. Had enough of that for one day." Alistair gets a beady glare. "I want to fight."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair drops his hand as Cullen sits up. He props his head against his fingers, eyeing Cullen right back.

Only a little acerbic: "Well, now I wish I hadn't gone and taken a walk, if I'd known you would've been fine with me punching you."

[howtoactfereldan]

His jaw sets.

"Go ahead."

[bringspeopletogether]

A short, sharp gesture, like he's flicking the words away. "Too late. We both missed our chance."

He picks up his mug. Draining its contents, Alistair stands.

[howtoactfereldan]

"I said go ahead." So does Cullen. The chair makes an ugly noise as the legs scrape the ground.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair rounds on him.

"I left so I wouldn't. I don't want to punch you, you're a -- a -- " He gestures at Cullen. "You would've just been convenient. And I'm not going to pick fights with you when you're drunk, for Andraste's sake."

He slams the mug into the wash basin.

[howtoactfereldan]

"What's changing between now and the -- when it's light out?" Cullen demands. "He's still in the prison, Lavellan's still in command, I'm still serving her, and you're still hung up on all the duties you abandoned while you begrudge everybody else theirs!"




In vino, veritas.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair stills.

He's drunk, he reminds himself. You are not going to take the bait. You're not.

Without a word, he turns on his heel and walks out of the kitchen.

[howtoactfereldan]

"You're not sorry!" Cullen shouts after him, and throws himself back down in the chair.

How nice that the kitchen fire is stoked! It'll be a nice, warm place to sleep.

[bringspeopletogether]

When he reaches their bedroom, Alistair finds himself looking over their packs. Calculating, quietly, how much he could carry on his own and how much he could load onto a horse for a solo trek to Skyhold.

Burden. Coward. Deserter. Cullen's made it clear time and time again what he really thinks of Alistair. Alistair just kept making the mistake of only listening to the good bits, and making up excuse after excuse for the bad.

The smart thing to do would be to sleep on this. (Not that he's expecting to get any sleep.) He can prepare, though: stiffly, he bends to unfasten the clasps on his pack, and begins to gather his things.

[howtoactfereldan]

...there is a chaise out there.

Cullen does recognize that it would be a better option than the kitchen table. Alistair's moved down the hall, he knows that much. Means it's safe to shuffle out there and pull off his boots.

[bringspeopletogether]

Twelve years a Warden plus nine years a templar-recruit means he's got everything packed within five minutes.

So. Less time dithering in the morning, if that's what he decides.

Alistair goes through the motions of his evening routine; crawls into one side of the bed, bunching up the quilt so he can hug it to his chest. At least he won't have to worry about Cullen complaining he stole all the covers again.

In lieu of sleep, he runs the numbers through his head. How many rations will he have to pick up before he leaves -- if he leaves? (Already, he's balking.) Does he want to go back to Skyhold, or turn for Ferelden? He has a vague notion of Cousland's last known location -- maybe he could go toward her, instead.

What am I going to do? he thinks, and isn't prepared for how despairing the thought sounds.

[howtoactfereldan]

Softly, staring at what he can see of the night sky through the window, he sings:

"Ayez pitié, je vous en prie
De la charmante Rosalie
Prenez garde à ce trou
Qu'est devant vous, qu'est devant vous
N'allez pas chez l'marchand d'vin..."

[bringspeopletogether]

It's quiet enough for Alistair to hear the tune, and recognize the lilt as something Orlesian.

He shuts his eyes tight and hugs the quilt harder.

Someone tell me what to do.







Eventually, well past midnight, he sleeps.

[howtoactfereldan]

It's much longer before Cullen does the same. When the grey light of dawn steals into the room, Cullen is snoring, the sound thin.

[bringspeopletogether]

If he were going to leave, it'd be easiest to do it now, before Cullen wakes up.

Alistair doesn't move.




When he finally does, it's to reach for his pack -- but only so he can find a shirt before shuffling toward the kitchen. He won't make this decision on an empty stomach.

(Perhaps the fact that he keeps making up excuses means he's already made his decision.)

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's eyes blink open slowly at the sound of footsteps.

He marks Alistair's passing, but doesn't say anything.

At least I've had worse headaches, he thinks blackly.

[bringspeopletogether]

Not long after, crackling sounds drift from the kitchen as Alistair re-stokes the fire. The clunk of a hanging kettle follows.

Then: sizzling, as the smell of toast, eggs, and some rashers begin to build.

[howtoactfereldan]

For a few minutes Cullen isn't sure if he wants to throw up or go challenge Alistair to a duel for his breakfast.





Leaning toward the latter, he decides. Good. When Alistair's done, Cullen will do for himself. Or go out and get someone else to do it for him.