[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

The letter he finally sends is maybe a little more impolitic than it ought to be, but if he doesn't send something now, he'll still be writing when his Calling arrives.



Fiona,

Ivette Cousland is looking for you. The name might ring a bell. Hero of Ferelden? Slayed the Archdemon some years ago?

Anyway. She's not having any luck, so I thought I'd try my hand at getting in touch.

Cousland's been searching for a cure for the Calling these past five years or so; she even retired as Warden-Commander of Vigil's Keep so she could pursue her research better. She knows your leaving the Wardens wasn't like mine. You didn't just walk away from Weisshaupt: you managed to un-Join somehow, with no ill effects. You're our last, best lead on the matter, so you can understand why she's rather eager to speak to you. It's very likely she doesn't have much time left, what with it being almost a decade and a half since her Joining and living through a Blight.

Frankly, I don't expect I have much time left, either.

Cullen and I are in South Reach these days. I'll always know where to find Cousland, if you'd rather speak with her directly. For all our sakes, I hope you'll be in touch.

--Alistair





Two weeks later, a raven knocks its beak against their window frame.

This is a matter best discussed in person, says the note attached to its leg. I can be to South Reach by the end of the month.

It's signed only with the letter F. Alistair spends the next few hours talking up a nervous storm, hands digging in his hair, half anxious, half furious. (This is exactly what he didn't want: for her to read this as an overture. For her to think she could have any claim to Alistair's time, Alistair's space, outside of giving him and Cousland the information they needed.)

Then he writes a letter to Cousland and sends the raven on its way.

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

"Boots," he says, softly, and stands back just enough that he won't kick Alistair in the shins in trying to shuffle them off.

[bringspeopletogether]

A quiet, faintly sheepish laugh. "Yes, that would help, wouldn't it."

He keeps hold of Cullen to give him some extra leverage in getting his boots off. Once they are, he lets Cullen's trousers fall the rest of the way.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen steps out of them, shaking them off to the side with one foot.

With a quiet laugh: "Everything you hoped, Theirin?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Always," he murmurs, warm.

He smooths his hands along Cullen's sides, just for the simple pleasure of it, and steals another kiss.

"Shall I fetch the soap?"

[howtoactfereldan]

Hard to steal what's freely given. Cullen then tucks his head in the crook of Alistair's neck -- just for a moment; just to get away with a moment -- and nods.

[bringspeopletogether]

No objections from Alistair. Briefly, he circles his arms around Cullen again; gives him a small squeeze before letting go.

It's a modest house; he doesn't have to go far to find the soap and a clean rag. Which is good. It's...not exactly like he doesn't want to let Cullen out of his sight, but straying too far right now just -- makes his stomach want to do flips. That's all.

[howtoactfereldan]

The water is just on the right side of scalding.

Cullen exhales and steps into the tub, sits down, pulls his knees to his chest.

Nothing's urgent. There's no point in doing anything about it tonight. But if Fiona is coming -- and Alistair has every right to be rattled by that -- along with the Hero of Ferelden...

Cullen doesn't especially want to see anyone else who was at Kinloch. Alistair, Leliana, Morrigan -- they all saw, and forgave him. But Alistair --

He loved her. Didn't he? And now Cullen's the second choice, and near well ruined over the impending Calling when... well. He's got no right, really. None at all.

Cullen tightens his hold on his knees. The water temperature may be just right, but he doesn't have to try to relax until Alistair comes back.

[bringspeopletogether]

And soon enough, Alistair returns. He kneels by the side of the tub, dunking the rag into the water.

Lightly, with a small smile, he asks, "Want me to scrub your back?"

Or would that be too much fussing? is the underlying question.

[howtoactfereldan]

Let's weigh this, he thinks.

On the one hand, Cullen is feeling -- vulnerable.

On the other, Alistair has picked up every distraction Cullen's thrown at him today, with alacrity.

"Long as you promise not to peel me any grapes," he replies, equally light.

[bringspeopletogether]

A soft laugh. "You have my word," he promises.

Lathering up the cloth, he starts at Cullen's shoulders, sweeping slow, gentle circles over his skin. There's -- more tension there than he expected, felt rather than seen; he leans a bit more weight into it to help break up the knots.

(Maybe the distractions Cullen's throwing at him aren't all for Alistair's benefit.)

For now, he doesn't comment. Just runs the cloth over his back, with the same gentle hedonism as earlier, wiping off the sweat of a day's work.

[howtoactfereldan]

After a moment, Cullen lets out a long sigh, letting his head droop.

Mumbled: "Feels good."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Good," he whispers.

He shifts the cloth to one hand long enough to run his damp fingers through Cullen's hair, working a small streak of grime loose.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen wrinkles his nose a little, not expecting the tug, but doesn't protest.

"Need that bigger tub."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Now I know what I'm getting you for your birthday."

He dunks the cloth again and resumes scrubbing Cullen's back.

"Should I ever learn when that is."

[howtoactfereldan]

"You could just make one up." Still mumbled. "Or give me presents all the time."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Or both," Alistair muses. "Presents all the time and then an extra-big present on your made-up birthday."

[howtoactfereldan]

"Both is good." With a small smile. "I look forward to both."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Then I'm happy to oblige, my love."

With another chuckle, he kisses the top of Cullen's head.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen wrinkles his nose again. "Don't you want to wait until I've washed it?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Why do you think I already scrubbed it a bit?" Amused. "It's clean enough to kiss."

He presents Cullen with the bar of soap.

"If you want to clean it more, however, by all means."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen takes the soap and makes a face at Alistair.

"I'll finish up while you fix one of those presents you're talking about."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair beams, serenely.

"As you wish," he says, and gives Cullen a peck on the cheek. "Love you."

It's been a while since Alistair had the opportunity to draw some nug caricatures. No time like the present!

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen catches Alistair's wrist before he can get up, and pulls him in for a long, lingering kiss.

(No time like the present.)

[bringspeopletogether]

Indeed.

Alistair sinks into the kiss, gladly, his free hand rising to cup Cullen's cheek. When it breaks, he has to take a moment to catch his breath, eyes still closed.

Once he regains his bearings, he traces his thumb along Cullen's scar, his smile softer, brighter. "Handsome man," he murmurs fondly. "Call if you need me."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen is bright pink, now, in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature of the water.

"Shan't be long." No louder. "Thank you. For -- fussing."