[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]

"...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."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen closes his eyes and arches his neck with a soft sigh.

"Not untouched, surely," he murmurs.

[bringspeopletogether]

He slips a hand inside Cullen's robe, splaying his fingers over his chest.

With more badly-stifled laughter, "Is that what you were doing in your cot at the Chantry, then."

[howtoactfereldan]

A hand clamps on Alistair's wrist.

Mildly:

"Not endearing, Alistair."

[bringspeopletogether]

He sobers immediately, making no move to fight Cullen's grip. Quieter, more contrite: "Right. Sorry."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen lets go and curls in on himself, a little. Away from Alistair -- but not too far.

After a moment:

"It's still... close to the surface. Everything from back then." More stiffly. "Best avoided."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Of course." Soft, still. "No more of that from me. You have my word."

He doesn't reach for Cullen, nor make any move to pull him closer. (Let him come back in his own time.)

"...We've established most of my jokes are too terrible to bear anyway."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen aims one slightly baleful eye over his shoulder.

"Tell me that's not about Storvacker."

[bringspeopletogether]

"I swear it's not." He holds up a hand. "You have my word on that as well."

There's a time and a place for Storvacker jokes, and this definitely isn't it.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen harrumphs and resettles.






"I suppose that isn't... unbearable."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Occasionally my jokes are just the right amount of bearable," he agrees, with a slight smile.

Cautiously, he rests a hand on Cullen's side.