Alistair (
bringspeopletogether) wrote2018-06-23 09:32 pm
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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.
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.
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(He doesn’t seem to notice the we and our.)
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(He notices. It's -- good to hear it. Another small indication that Cullen's settling in, bit by bit, to the idea of having a family again.)
"Though I've a feeling she'd appreciate just being Ivette around them most of the time."
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Cullen slips his other arm around Alistair.
“That one’s for my use only.”
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"I've no objection." Soft, and warm.
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Low: “At your order, ser.”
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The next best thing:
"I know I should get the letter over with," he murmurs, "but all I want this instant is to go catch up on the lie-in we didn't get this morning. Can we?"
Just for a little bit. And then back to business.
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“We can — if you’re the one to leave the note for Ivette to let her know we’ve gone caboodling and she shouldn’t wait up.”
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Muffled, but amused: "If you're humoring me to the point of willingly calling it caboodling, I must be very bad off indeed."
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"If we're leaving her to her own devices so soon after all that, I'd at least try not to be obnoxious about it."
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Cullen runs the pad of his thumb over Alistar’s lower lip.
“The one time I try to instigate mischief. See if I ever do it again.”
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"I taught you so well and now I can't even reap the reward of all your hard work," he murmurs. "We'll have to save it for another time."
A quiet sigh.
"All right. We'll give Ivette a few hours. Take a few for ourselves." Gently, he starts to disengage from Cullen. "I'll -- find some paper. For a note."
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With Cullen's penchant for math treatises and Alistair's penchant for doodling, a quill and a scrap of paper are never hard to find. Going back to bed, he writes, and hesitates. Some quip about this being the sort of morning that requires returning to bed well before midday is...it feels like he should include it, but he can't shape the joke properly.
Thank you for your help, he writes instead. Steal all the snacks from the larder that you'd like.
He leaves it in prominent view on the kitchen table and slumps toward the bedroom.
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Geoffrey sits — lounges — atop Alistair’s pillow as though he owns the place.
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Slowly dissolving into laughter, he sinks next to his husband and lets his head list onto his shoulder.
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“You’ll have to move him,” he murmurs. “I’m terrified of his wrath, you know.”
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He can't say why Geoffrey sitting there on his pillow is the funniest thing in the world to him right now. He's just -- it's been a long couple of weeks, planning all this, thinking of few things but the Calling, then being around Fiona (even if she wasn't awful) and learning there's a chance he might survive beyond the next few years after all --
It's been a lot. And Cullen loves him enough to do silly things like buy him a stuffed golem and claim he's terrified of it. Right after the living reminder of Alistair being abandoned as a child gets up, bids them all good day, and heads out the door.
It's a lot, and he's so relieved, beyond articulation, to be here in this room with Cullen.
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With his free hand he points to where said boots are neatly lined up together.
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He wraps an arm around Cullen's middle. (Clinging a bit, in contrast to the laughter.)
"I'm sure Geoffrey's very proud of himself for striking such fear in your heart."
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