[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]

Deadpan: "You would look very fetching with a braid or two."

He continues fiddling with Cullen's hair, though -- for now -- no braids ensue.

"I could help you cut it. If you'd like."

[howtoactfereldan]

"It was the fashion when we were young." Cullen sounds a little surprised by the memory. (Only a little.) "I prefer not to revisit it. And I really prefer not to get out of bed."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Not after we finally made it here," agrees Alistair with a chuckle. "No, any fun hairstyling events will have to wait for later."

Beat.

"Or possibly never."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Never."

Cullen prods Alistair in the chest.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair squirms, laughing, and catches Cullen's hand so he can kiss his knuckles.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's smile broadens for a moment before his eyes fall closed.

Murmured: "Are we sleeping? Resting up?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Perhaps," he murmurs against Cullen's hair. "If that's how you're so inclined. Anything begun on the chaise can be continued later."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen cracks open an eye.

"Sounds like you're... not so inclined."

[bringspeopletogether]

Dignified:

"All I'm saying is, you did mention something about ink earlier." Beat; then, more seriously, "But I don't mind if you'd rather sleep. Truly."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen lifts his head, rests his chin on Alistair's chest.

"If we're going to need another change of the linens, it damn well isn't going to be on account of ink."

Pause.

"Besides which, the marks won't really show for a couple of hours yet. Do you really want to risk having the picture change literally out from under you?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"...I suppose not."

He's starting to smile.

"Could start out as an enormous dragon and turn into a snoufleur by morning. Hardly the impression I'm going for."

[howtoactfereldan]

"On the other hand," Cullen muses, "a snoufleur might suit you. Let me just go get the ink -- "

[bringspeopletogether]

In reply, Alistair tightens his arm around Cullen, brings his other one around to match, and traps him in a snug embrace.

Whispered low in his ear, half-laughing: "Absolutely not."

[howtoactfereldan]

"The one time I show any interest in art."

This appears to be the entirety of Cullen's protest, as he's showing no inclination to break free of Alistair's hold.

[bringspeopletogether]

"I feel terrible for crushing your fledgling interest." Solemn. "Just terrible."

And then he struggles to hide a grin.

"At least I'm not suggesting where you could draw the snout?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"I can think of a few places," Cullen mutters.

[bringspeopletogether]

"My elbow."

Straight-faced.

"That's what you were going to say, right?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen squirms a little. (As inconveniently as possible.)

"Now you'll never know, will you."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair shivers faintly. He sneaks one leg around Cullen's to better hold him in place.

"I'm willing to be corrected."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen presses back against him. "But what if you don't enjoy it?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Oh, I've a feeling I would."

He wriggles a little; presses his lips to Cullen's shoulder.

[howtoactfereldan]

"Theirin -- " Cullen is laughing a little. Not entirely evenly. "Do you mean to imply you have designs on my virtue?"

[bringspeopletogether]

With feigned surprise -- and laughing a little as well --

"You have virtue left for me to make designs on?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Of course not." With great dignity. "But you're supposed to pretend, otherwise you'll hurt my feelings."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Oh, yes, of course, my mistake."

Another kiss on the shoulder; he grazes his teeth along Cullen's bare skin, lightly.

"I am absolutely making designs on your virtue, then. Your sparkling, flawless, untouched virtue."