will byers stan first human second
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
wallacepolsom
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Origami Around
⁂
if i look back, i am lost
izzy's playlists!
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Jules of Nature
Monterey Bay Aquarium
★
trying on a metaphor
taylor price
pixel skylines
noise dept.
h
macklin celebrini has autism
#extradirty
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@cullavellanheaven
Lost and insecure You found me, you found me Lying on the floor Surrounded, surrounded Why’d you have to wait? Where were you, where were you? Just a little late You found me, you found me
You found me ~The Fray
Happy Valentines o/ Bonus page for this comic because… well XD I can’t get enough of them. Long time I didn’t draw them btw.
comission kofi
For DWC: "I'm cold. Come closer." For character(s) of your choice :)
Thank you for the prompt for @dadrunkwriting! Since I obviously need more Cullavellan in my life, have some more Cullen and Enansal.
Fluffy Prompts
Since the Inquisition had arrived at Skyhold, the fortress itself had been unseasonably warm despite being buried deep in the snow-covered Frostbacks. Even though Ferelden was in the throes of early winter, Skyhold seemed to be in a perpetual state of mid-autumn. Solas had given the Inquisitor the impression that it could attributed to residual magical energies throughout the fortress that gave it the illusion of being frozen in one season. Enansal actually rather enjoyed the semi-permanent autumn. Her only complaint was that some nights could become bitingly cold.
Even buried under several layers of furs and a fire roaring in the fireplace, the Inquisitor still felt cold at her desk. While she had promised herself to get through all of the reports that were currently piled atop her desk, the mental image of retiring early with a bed warmer under her mattress kept distracting her from her work. She sighed a little and returned her quill to its holder; she doubted she would be able to get anything else done for the night.
Just as she pushed herself to her feet, she heard heavy footsteps on the stairs leading up to her chambers. She turned towards the sound, a smile spreading across her face as she saw her Commander cresting the top.
He glanced her way, and paused on the top stair. Pink dusted his cheeks as he cleared his throat in embarrassment. “A-ah, Inquisitor. I thought you were meeting with Josephine to discuss your trip to the tailor next week.”
“We finished earlier than anticipated,” she explained, but then fixed him with an amused expression. “Yet you still came to my room, even while under the impression that I would not be present. Now, why is that?” she teased.
Cullen cleared his throat once more. “Well, I, er…” He sighed, and held up a brown paper package. “I wanted to leave these here as a surprise.”
She crossed the room to his side, taking the package from his hands; she tore through the paper to reveal a pair of supple leather gloves. The pale cream color reminded her of halla, and the green stitching around the cuffs could not be mistaken for anything but Dalish craftsmanship.
The Inquisitor let out a soft gasp and looked up at the Commander. “Oh, Cullen, you didn’t have to…”
“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to,” he said, sounding simultaneously amused and embarrassed. “Do you truly like them?” he then added, brow creasing a little in worry.
“Oh, I love them.” She smiled and pulled them on to emphasize her point. She then wrapped her arms around him, adding, “Thank you.”
He returned the embrace. “Of course, love.”
She sighed a little and snuggled a little against his chest. For once, he was dressed quite simply, with no armor pieces in sight. As such, she could feel the warmth radiating off of his person, and she much preferred this heat source to the piles of furs she had abandoned at the desk. After a few moments, Cullen began to pull away, and Enansal let out something of a whine.
“No, wait, I’m freezing. You should come closer.”
At that, he chuckled a little. “I thought you specialized in frost magic, my dear.”
“Just because I wield the element does not mean I enjoy the accompanying change in temperature.”
Cullen laughed again. “As my lady commands. Give me just a moment.” He finally left her embrace, and moved to drag the loveseat across the floor to place it in front of the fireplace. He then recovered the furs from Enansal’s chair and piled them up on the cushions. “Here. Perhaps we should sit here together for a while.”
Enansal smiled faintly, and joined him. Once they were seated and wrapped up in some of the furs, the Inquisitor leaned against his shoulder. “This is nice…”
“Yes, it is.”
“I love you.”
“And I you.”
Hey, I just wondered if there was another cullavellan x-mas exchange this year, and you seemed like the right one to ask :)
I don’t think so, unfortunately :/ If followers of this blog wish to organize one they’re more than welcome to, but as it stands, probably not.
PSC - Dragon Age: Inquisition - Cullen & Inquisitor Lavellan
Commission info
What the Future Holds
Cullavellan Week Day 7 – 1256 words
Summary: While on a hike, Cullen and Aylwen reflect on the recent past and discuss the future.
A/N: Wait wait wait! Cullavellan Week can’t end until I post this thing I literally spent all day working on D:
(Okay, but, seriously, huge thank you to everyone who ran the event this year. I had fun. I hope you all had fun. I hope it’s still okay to submit this. Can’t think. Too tired. Good night.)
Cullen paused to wait for Aylwen on the steep uphill trail. Wary, he watched her pick her way over rocks and tree roots toward him. He stood ready, prepared to run and catch her if she stumbled or fell.
But there was no need. Occasionally she overbalanced, forgetting, as she often did, about her missing arm, but she managed to catch herself each time, grabbing on to nearby tree branches or wildly waving her stump to restore her center of gravity.
The sight filled Cullen with a confusing mixture of grief and pride. When they’d climbed this hill two years before, Aylwen had been so agile. The terrain here was rough, steep enough to require simple rock climbing in some spots, but she’d raced ahead of him, practically jumping from boulder to boulder in her rush to the peak. He’d had to remind her to slow down so he could keep up. Now, it was he who had to slow down for her.
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Thank You
I'd like to give my sincerest thanks to @ma-sulevin @4vrafangirl @thecommandersinquisitor @kaoruyogi and @commander-cullen for your help in hosting Cullavellan Week this year :) I know I wouldn't have been able to do it alone with the way life has been lately, and I just wanna give a big shout out and all the hugs and love to you wonderful peeps for your help ❤️
Also, a big thank you from the bottom of my heart to those who participated!! I hope you had fun creating things, I know for a fact that everyone who saw your works enjoyed them immensely! The Cullavellan peeps have some mighty talented people ^^
Here's to next year!
-Adi
Cullavellan Day7-What the future holds
As much as Jojo loves Cullen, they love the aspect of adventure more. And although I think Cullen would be tempted to follow, I think ultimately he would feel tied to protecting his homeland and simply have to stay behind to watch Jojo leave on the open sea.
I am by your side. ( Cullen x Lavellan ) for Cullavellan Week @cullavellanheaven Day 6 I think that the problem of Lyrium can be alleviated by touching a lover. ( 2017.9.16 )
Cullavellan Day 6- Support
Jojo knows only one way to get through a tough time, beach trip!
Dressing up ( Cullen x Lavellan ) for Cullavellan Week @cullavellanheaven Day 5 I drawing Formal Attire Cullen for the first time :) ( 2017.9.15 )
Will there be a giveaway? I'm kinda disappointed I didn't win anything for Cullen appreciation week lol
Unfortunately there probably won’t be. We’ve had a giveaway in the past and it was a collaboration of creators offering prizes, but the admin for this blog isn’t in the frame of mind to organize anything like that in the near future.
Helpless
Cullavellan Week Day 6: Support – 327 words
Summary: Angst. When Cullen has nightmares, Aylwen feels helpless.
A/N: I’ve wanted for ages to write a story about Aylwen supporting Cullen (since I’ve written plenty of the reverse) so there was no way I was going to skip today’s topic. Fingers crossed that it turned out okay.
“No… please… please.”
Aylwen woke to the all too familiar sound of Cullen whimpering in his sleep beside her. Instantly wide awake, she turned toward him. He was curled on his side at the edge of the mattress, arms across his chest as if protecting himself. He whimpered again.
“Leave me… leave me be.”
“Cullen…”
She laid her hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently.
“Why… just leave me alone.”
“Cullen, you’re safe.” She rubbed his shoulder. “You’re safe here.”
As always, her words had no effect. She kept her hand on his shoulder, watching his face crease in pain and terror. She hated this, watching him suffer while she was helpless to do anything. Headaches, chills, and stomach pains could be treated, but there was nothing to be done for this sort of pain. Nothing to do but wait.
After several moments that felt like hours to Aylwen, he gasped and woke with a violent jerk upright. He shrugged her off, breathing hard, eyes wide in panic and confusion. She reached out to rub his shoulder again and waited for his breathing to slow.
At last, he calmed. With a sigh, he closed and opened his eyes, then turned his head to look at her.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Did I frighten you?”
She shook her head, reaching out to trace from his cheek to his jawline. His eyes were wet, rimmed with red.
“Was it very bad?” she said.
He didn’t reply, only shut his eyes. His brow furrowed, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he nodded.
“Oh.” There was pain in her voice. “My darling.”
She moved nearer and he reached for her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in her lap. His body shook even as she pulled him closer.
I’m sorry, she wanted to say. She stroked his curls, kissed the top of his head, anything to calm him. I’m sorry I can’t make it stop.
Lyrium Fever
Day 6 of Cullavellan week is Support. I wanted to write two short pieces–him helping her, and her helping him–but the first one got away from me.
Here’s a short piece from after Halamshiral but before Adamant where Cullen suffers from a bout of withdrawal that literally knocks him flat. Jo is there to help.
He can feel his pulse behind his eyes. Each breath sends a searing pain through him–although maybe the pain is just there and his breath makes no difference other than the movement his body needs to take to allow his chest to expand.
His mouth is too dry. There’s water waiting for him in the pitcher on the other side of the room, clean and cold and refreshing, but… so far away.
He shifts his body enough to put one foot on the floor before his energy abandons him in another wash of pain. This one shoots down his spine and stiffens his shoulders, a groan of displeasure spilling past his lips before he can stop it.
If he can just get on his feet, he can splash water on his face and maybe find some spare elfroot to brew into a tea to help ease this headache before it makes him blind and ill for the rest of the day.
Distantly, he hears a door latch closed. Light footsteps cross the room toward him, then a small hand touches his forehead. He tries to open his eyes, but the light is too bright and he squeezes them shut with another groan.
The person beside him sighs, the hand disappears, and a light kiss is pressed to his forehead. “Stay here.” She disappears, then, and so does the comfort brought by her presence. Another door clicks open and closed, and Cullen is left in blessed silence.
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Nu'vhenan
Day 6 - Support for @cullavellanheaven’s Cullavellan Week 2017!
It was late by the time Drysia Lavellan made it to her private quarters. She had returned from her latest excursion to the Hinterlands and only had an hour to bathe and eat before Josephine dragged her to meet with visiting nobles all night.
Exhausted is good, she reminded herself, maybe I’ll finally get some sleep.
Drysia knew her hope was futile. It was hard to sleep in Skyhold, even with the windows wide open. The brick walls a constant reminder that she wasn’t home.
She had made a habit of hiding in the northern tower, a secluded part of Skyhold, to practice the Orlesian lute she’d purchased in Val Royeux. It gave her something to fill the empty hours of the early morning when she couldn’t sleep.
Home or not, even in the darkness she could tell that there was something on her bed. Drysia made a small motion with her hand and fire bloomed out of nothing in the fireplace, illuminating the room.
She stared at the boxes that sat in the middle of the furs on her bed – two boxes identically wrapped in red paper and tied with white ribbon.
This was odd. Her birthday was months ago and she thought she knew all of the human holidays. The Inquisitor didn’t know why someone would get her a present. Finally she spotted an envelope that had fallen behind the packages.
Fingers clumsy with excitement, she tore the letter as she pulled it from its envelope.
Inquisitor– You neglected to inform us of your birthday in advance, so I was unable to produce a suitable gift in a timely fashion.
Many apologies for the tardiness of the gift. I thought to wait until Satinalia to gift this, but I felt it would be unfair to make you wait.
It is my hope you enjoy it. But I will not be offended if it is not to your tastes. – C.
Eager to see what sort of present Cullen would give, she quickly grabbed her letter opener and cut the ribbon of the largest package.
Tearing through the paper a whirlwind of thoughts tore through her head. Why would Cullen care about my birthday? What on Thedas does a man like Cullen get as gifts– a new set of leather boots?
The paper gave way to a sheaf of paper bundled in the same white ribbon.
Sheet music. Pages upon pages of sheet music. Drysia leafed through the pages and was surprised at the lack of Chantry hymns. These were from composers from all over Thedas, she recognized names from Antiva, Rivain and Orzammar. Each song written for the particular style of Orlesian lute she had.
Cullen must have noticed the lute standing by her desk during their last meeting. Unless…
Drysia’s face went hot. Of course, she thought to herself, him and every other soldier on the battlements must know that I play.
She shook her head, realizing how naive it was to think that he hadn’t heard her.
The Orlesian lute was a poor subtitle for the lute she’d left with her clan, the Dalish songs never sounded quite right. It was too tall, had too many strings. The songs of the people sounded alien. Some nights it made her homesickness that much worse.
Her stomach tightened, and curiosity began to get the better of Drysia. She carelessly dropped the music and moved onto the second box. Glad there was no one to witness her haste, she tore into the wrapping and tossed the box’s lid onto the ground.
The light spruce of a Dalish style lute gleamed in the firelight. The design of the rosette was intricately carved, bordered by a blue and yellow painted pattern of simplified aravels. She began to examine the instrument more closely; there were some obvious signs of wear that signified that the lute was not brand new, but had at least been taken care of.
Drysia plucked one of the strings, and then another. A melody took form of a song of she’d heard all her life. For the first time since she’d become Inquisitor she sang along:
“Lath araval ena arla ven tu vir mahvir melana ‘nehn enasal ir sa lethalin.”
A smile played across her lips when she was done. Home – it meant something different to the Dalish. Something felt more than someplace concrete.
Her desire to thank him outweighed her body’s desire for sleep. Lute pulled tightly against her chest, Drysia made her way to the northern tower.
She didn’t know where Cullen would be at this hour, but she knew how to call him to her.
First Fete
Cullavellan Week Day 5: Formal Night – 481 words
Summary: Pre-relationship. Aylwen takes a break from the Inquisition’s first ball and runs into Cullen.
A/N: This didn’t quite turn out how I wanted, but it’s already a day late and I’m tired of working on it ^^;
Aylwen stepped into the Skyhold garden, closed the door behind her, and sighed in relief. The chilly, grass scented air filled her lungs, such a difference from the stuffiness of the great hall. She just needed a few moments away from the fete, away from the stares and awkward questions, and then she would go back inside.
“Inquisitor?”
She turned, and her heart leapt embarrassingly high when she saw it was Cullen who had spoken. Cullen looking dashing in his dress uniform, smiling awkwardly as he strode over.
“Commander,” she said. “I… haven’t seen you all evening. You’re not at the party?”
“No,” he said, coming to a stop in front of her. “I needed some air.”
“Oh,” she said. “Me too.”
She blushed, looked away, then looked back again. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“You look, um.” He coughed. “You look very nice.”
His cheeks immediately turned red. Her own blush deepened, but she smiled and swished her skirts a bit self-consciously. She was dressed in a sleeveless gown of pale blue, her favorite color.
“Do you think so?” she said. “I was worried it was—I haven’t worn many gowns.”
In truth, it was her first gown. Prior to that evening she’d been excited to wear it, to really belong at the event. But then she’d seen the way her noble patrons looked at her. The way their eyes lingered on her ears and vallaslin even as they spoke to her through smiles. It doesn’t look quite right when they dress up, she’d heard a woman whisper.
“You shouldn’t worry,” Cullen said. “It suits you.”
She looked at him again, surprised. His gaze was kind, the complete opposite of the nobles’. Warmth gathered in her stomach. For what had to be the hundredth time, she wondered how he’d react if she walked closer. She thought of the low backline of her dress, of his fingers tracing her spine. What would it feeling like to have her body pressed against his in such a sheer, silky dress?
But then he looked quickly away, and the moment was gone. She bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed.
“I should go,” she said, gathering her skirts and moving back toward the door. “They’ll be missing me.”
“Of course,” he said. Did he look disappointed?
“I hope you have a good evening.”
She paused in the doorway, smiled at him.
“I hope you have a good evening.”
He smiled back.
“You as well.”
Then she fumbled the door open and was swallowed up once more by the noise of the party.
She didn’t run across Cullen again that evening, what with the endless nobles to greet, but whenever someone gave her an odd look or an open stare, whenever she heard a quick, whispered comment as she passed by, his words rang in her head like a protective charm.
You shouldn’t worry. It suits you.
little nightmares
Day 6 for Cullavellan week at @cullavellanheaven
I’m only posting this because @motherofgriffins spent her precious time helping me and I respect the hell out of that.
When Cullen opened the door to the Inquisitor’s apartment suite at the Winter Palace he was hit with the smell of sickness and decay and the sound of a faint moan. Immediately worried, he rushed inside, a bouquet of forget-me-nots forgotten at the table near the entrance. Thoughts filled his head with images of assassins, dead qunari and something much, much worse, something that made his blood freeze in his veins as his mind went back to the nightmares of his youth, filled with rotting abominations.
The war council parted with Mornemyr barely an hour ago after they had decided on their next action. She seemed more tired after her last travel and the blasted thing on her hand were acting up again but he trusted her when she assured him it was under control, and he believed it like a love blinded fool. He even left her alone to arrange for a dinner and find flowers. Now he was practically shaking as he kicked open the door to her bedroom drawing his trusty sword in one swift motion.
The view that greeted him was nothing he had expected and that made everything even worse somehow. The smell was even stronger here but the only person he could see was his soon to be wife. He felt the sword falling from his weakened palm as his eyes followed the familiar and yet completely different curve of the body in the middle of disheveled bed. Myr has always been slim. It didn’t matter to him then. But now he could clearly see ribs poking over her hollow stomach, he could see the hip bone trying to rip through through the tight skin and her bare ankles so thin it terrified him. The center of all of it however was her hand with veins so dark green, they were almost black. The skin itself was inflamed, puffy and sickly pink with the open wound in the middle of the palm. The sudden flare of bright green light woke Cullen from the stupor and he rushed to the bed.
He carefully checked Myr’s pulse first, shivering when his fingers touched the cold damp skin of her wrist. Her heart was beating steady but twice as fast. The closer look revealed dark grey circles under her eyes and unhealthy flush on her sharp cheekbones. A few drops of sweat found their way on her forehead and temples. Every sign pointed to a fever. He should have called for a healer right away but he couldn’t leave her like this.
Myr mumbled something when Cullen reached to wipe a stray hair from her face, something elven judging by the sound of it. She was having a bad dream which reassured him in his decision to never leave her. She weighed nothing when he carefully lift her in his hands and moved away from the sweat filled blanket. Thankfully the bed was huge and Orleasians kept a supply of fresh bedding in every room so he covered her tightly and after some fiddling with the armor he laid down next to her, holding his love close.
***
I’m running but the grey tail I’m chasing keeps getting away from me. It feels like I’ve been running for years now, forest around me had gone dead silent in the meantime as if my ear drums had been broken miles ago. I can only hear my heavy breathing as my paws hit the moss floor. The wolf in front of me mocks me with his presence, he seems close enough to touch but every time I take a leap to catch him he’s suddenly far away; his toothy grin and red glowing eyes are full of laughter. I’m desperate to the point my body aches and hot angry tears stream down my face when I choke, unable to take another breath.
I know something bad will happen if I don’t catch him but I’m useless and I’m very tired of running. My paws stumble over each other when the glowy red fills my vision, and a high pitched laugh explodes in the middle of my head as I fall down on the ground. I can’t get up anymore.
I have to. But I can’t. I’m weak.
So.
Very.
Weak.
***
“No, wait!!” Mornemyr twitched violently in his hands and woke up with the words clearly coming from her dream. She was breathing heavily trying to catch some air and his heart broke again seeing her huge blue eyes wide open, pupils moving fast, scanning the surroundings.
“Mor,” Cullen called after her quietly, but even like this his voice scared her, made her jump in surprise. He let go, afraid to hurt her more. Heavy gaze focused on him, less scared and foggy now when her eyes registered familiar face.
“Vhenan?” her voice was low and raspy and she had to cough to make it sound normal again. “Where are we?”
“Winter Palace,” the relief of her recognizing him washed over his body, leaving Cullen a little light headed. He reached to cup her cheek and she closed her eyes again. A tired sigh escaped from her lips as she turned to her side slowly and tucked herself to commander’s chest. He pulled her closer, careful not to disturb the wounded hand, and automatically kissed the top of her had, the way he’d done it every night until they came to this place.
“How long?” Cullen couldn’t handle the heavy silence between them right now, not when he was worried to death because he could count every rib under his palm as he let his hand run up and down Myr’s back. She didn’t answer for some time and he thought she fell back asleep when she swallowed and shifted a little.
“Half a year”, came a muffled response and Cullen couldn’t help but pull her closer and shut his eyes tight. He could lose her any minute, and over what? What was the reason for not telling him something this important? He thought she trusted him enough for her to share her life with him. When did he fail this trust? Where did he do wrong?
“Mor”, he started, but was interrupted by a stifled cry as she clenched her hand on his side.
“I’m sorry”, still muffled by his chest, words were now pouring out of Myr in an endless stream, interrupted only by a seldom hiccup. “I’m sorry, I thought I was handling it. You weren’t supposed to see me like this, I didn’t want you to worry, I thought I could deal with everything, I thought I could fix it. But I can’t, I’m so weak, vhenan, I’m so tired. I’m so sorry…”
“You’re the strongest person I know,” Cullen felt how he now was choking with tears too, his heart was about to explode from both worry and love for this woman he was holding in his hands. “But I thought you knew by now you don’t have to deal with it alone.”
“I know. I was just…,” the grip on his side weakened when Myr sobbed loudly, way too tired to keep herself together.
“Worried about all of us”, he finished the sentence for her, painfully aware of how truthful it was. She nodded in the agreement. “You should rest now. I’ll call for the healer in the morning”, Cullen tucked an extra warm blanket around them so she would be warm in case the fever returns.
“I’m leaving to find about the gaatlock tomorrow as we decided”, he didn’t know where all this stubbornness was coming from when she barely had any body left.
“No, you aren’t”, and seeing how Myr was about to argue, he kissed her quickly on the lips and then looked right into her eyes. “And I don’t care if half of Thedas blows up.”
Mornemyr only huffed in response, and it was obvious she didn’t have any strength to talk more about it no matter how much she wanted to. He pulled her closer again, fully intend to not let go of her until he’s sure there’s no immediate danger to her life.
***
He should have known better. He should have called for the healer right away. But it was morning, and his soon-to-be wife was absent from his hands. There was a note on a pillow instead saying she has to finish it.
Finish it his ass. Cullen jumped from the bed, picked up his mantle and stormed out of the Inquisitor’s apartment suit at the Winter Palace. He was going after her, and Maker help the poor soul who tried to stop him.
Climbing Routes and Courage
Written for Day 6 of @cullavellanheaven‘s Cullavellan Week. All about supporting each other. Cullen and Mara support each other through a lot, but I wanted to go a more fluffy route and give them some supporting each other while doing some climbing. It helped I’ve been feeling nostalgic for my favorite climbing spot too. 2400 words of cuteness and rock climbing.
Also on AO3.
The windows were down and the canyon breeze whipped through the car while the music played. Mara was behind the wheel, coaxing the car along the narrow and winding road. It was still early, and Cullen could smell the dew that was still evaporating from the trees that passed by in a blur. The backseat and trunk of Mara’s car was packed full of gear and water, and Cullen was a little surprised at just how much equipment was required for climbing outdoors.
It was his first time climbing outside, and while he’d been climbing with Mara indoors quite often in the last few months, he was still not sure exactly what to expect. Mara had a gleam in her eye, a sense of adventure in her step. She’d hardly touched her coffee, and that’s when Cullen realized she was actually thrilled to be up as early as they were.
The car slowed and Mara flipped around before parking on the wide dirt shoulder. A small dust cloud rose up in response, and Mara grinned as she pulled the keys from the ignition.
“You ready?” she asked.
Cullen gave her a nod. “Sure.”
Then Mara was out of the car, trunk open and pulling gear out. Most of it he recognized, but there were a few things he didn’t quite understand what they might be for. Mara was pulling on a huge black foam pad like a backpack. It was comically too large for her, the pad itself stretching nearly a foot over her head.
“What is that?” Cullen asked.
Mara adjusted the straps over her shoulders. “Crash pad. In case we want to do some bouldering or just have someplace soft to sit. I’ll get the rope bag if you can get the other two backpacks, it’s not far.”
“Somehow the presence of a crash pad is not making me feel reassured,” he replied as he grabbed the other two backpacks and shut the trunk.
Mara was already approaching a narrow path between the trees. “Oh come on Rutherford, don’t tell me you’re nervous.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe a little.”
Mara’s green eyes were kind. “I promise the worst part is the approach, just follow me.”
The approach was a rock wash, steep and difficult to get an even footing on. The rocks clinked and clanked clear and bright as Chantry bells beneath their careful steps. Mara moved quickly up the wash despite the giant foam square she carried on her back. Cullen did better than he expected, finding himself at the top of the wash just in time to begin feeling the strain in his legs.
There were sheer cliffs that rose up ahead of them, deep grays contrasting with lighter parts of the stone. Up higher, beyond the shade of the trees the lighter parts of the rock sparkled in the rising sun. The rock itself was rough, looking like seaweed or something had been pressed against the rock millions of years ago.
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