time had certainly not been kind.
or, perhaps, it isn’t time the one to blame, as much as it is the way of the world: the bloody war, the breaches. it seems as if all was a continuous painful cycle: peace regained only to be broken anew and the same tale unfold before her eyes. the world at great peril, whereas the rich and the mighty can seem to care only for themselves. where are diplomacy, solidarity, understanding ? nowhere to be found when all seem to think of their survival alone.
tamara walks into skyhold proud as if she were the queen herself. given the many years of work within the court of denerim, perhaps she could be, but she knows only too well such is not the fate of a mage woman. mage women are demons from birth, are they not? pretty faces awaiting to lull their next foolish victim. oh, maker! if only it hurt less! but, this is no time to think of her personal injury suffered at the hands of the chantry. she has come to speak to the so-called herald of andraste, who has become a force to be considered. this force could be the world’s assurance for life as well as a force to turn the tide between the mages and the templars. and there is no way tamara spears can set aside the grand opportunity to bring the herald to understand the power they hold.
her proud head is turned and, for a moment, her characteristic stern expression begins to wear off, as if a mask were falling to reveal her true face, the gentle one, which she has not shown to many. it seems to her she has seen the face of the man upon whom her glance has been laid, stirring memories so painful to her. perhaps the maker has a sense of irony. perhaps she’s mistaken…
“i take you’re in charge around here?” she asks instead of greeting, her icy glance seeking his own. a confident woman always looks another in the eye, even if within the eyes her unbearable past is reflected, memories she cannot cast aside despite countless failed attempts to do so. “that would be a relief,” she sighs, “it would mean there is, at last, a competent person i can speak to.” her tone is stern, but a smile is spread on her lips. “i am tamara spears, representative of the crown.” the woman offers a polite gesture of her head. “and i come with urgent business. would you be so kind to tell me where can i find the herald of andraste?”
but rigidity follows suit, and he is the PINNACLE of command once more. the lion feels her gaze and this time, does not falter. even when her eyes catch his, even when he does not expect to feel challenged ── instead, a light hand rests upon the pommel of his sword and a second atop those steel-covered knuckles. she is a diplomat; nobility, perhaps? purpose guides her here, whatever it may be, for she is not the frightful come to seek sanctuary. ah, but her stride is lambent, he notices. she bares PRIDE, hubris cloudlike above her head. it almost makes him grimace, were he not in better control of his own expressions, because it is him she approaches. cullen FEELS his hair stand on end, not because of this woman, but because of the familiarity.
it comes as no surprise that she would slight the people under the inquisition banner with underhanded insults, then follow it with a display of manners. representative to the crown? cullen holds his chin only a little high. “ i am in charge of our forces, yes. ” but he is humble, and would not overshadow his fellow advisors, much less the herald. “ the inquisitor, ” he declares, “ is not present at skyhold. you are not the first to seek their aid with urgent business. ” and will not be the last. rifts and demons and red lyrium abound ── everyone, everyone, was otherwise occupied. a wonder it is that cullen would be granted this temporary freedom of walking skyhold’s grounds midst his training soldiers. for a moment, though short, he does look away towards skyhold’s gatehouse. “ but you are a guest, and will be granted the necessities of such during your stay. i cannot provide you with when the inquisitor will return, only assure you that they will. ”
he lingers like this, wanting, wanting to say more; KNOW more. who are you, his tamed stare wanders over the woman’s face, leliana would tell me. “ i am cullen, ” he presses under a guise of politeness (hunting for a NAME), “ commander of the inquisition’s army. you’ll forgive me if i find your presence here somewhat ODD; it is not often representatives of the crown visit skyhold. king alistair usually sends letters. ” if not poorly worded ones, but he would keep those thoughts for himself. he did respect the king, after all, and would not slander him. but there is a hint of doubt in the validity of her words. either this matter is truly severe or this is a front managed to snake past their spymaster’s people. the latter was terribly unlikely, but forgive him he cannot trust something so easily. perhaps that is the uneasiness he feels, cullen surmises, that it is not familiarity but UNEASE.
romaincrisis
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
