[pcrseverance]

independent and semi selective CULLEN RUTHERFORD of DRAGON AGE

written by klaus || she / her || 30+ || GMT

CARRD || RULES || ABOUT

[pcrseverance]

|| @thilfonir-lavellan liked for a starter

Cullen knows it needs to be addressed at some point. The Herald is short with him, near scared of him, and whilst he hardly blames the mage for it he still worries that it may lead to mistakes. Unintentional ones, perhaps, but it seems Thilfonir can barely stay in the same room as him for more than a handful of minutes and he'd rather avoid any miscommunications where possible, especially with so much at stake.

He still drags his feet about it. It's not a conversation he particularly wants to have either, and the how of it all gives him pause to. Simply cornering the elf will hardly help anything, and he can't linger past meetings because Thilfonir seems to take his leave strategically with either Joesphine or Leliana.

His chance comes unexpectedly with a war table meeting that Leliana had no intention of attending and Josephine had to excuse herself from. Without the buffer of others their exchanges are even more stilted, and eventually Cullen tires of it enough to stray from the discussion of his soldiers requisition requirements.

"I'm no longer with the Order," he informs him. "I'm not certain just what it is you think I'm going to do to you, but whatever it is it's highly unlikely."

[thilfonir-lavellan]

Cullen's support is the only reason that Thilfonir doesn't immediately fall face-first into the dirt; the movement sending the whole world spinning wildly. His head lulls, vision tunneling, but he manages not to pass out just yet. After taking a moment to let the vertigo pass and to catch his breath, he offers the Commander a small nod.

"M'ready," he advises. The Anchor crackles faintly in Cullen's ear as if in agreement, responding to the fluctuations of the tear in the Veil and the will of its bearer.

Actually getting him close enough to the rift is a painstaking endeavour. The dizziness and the nausea both come in waves, any movement that was too fast or too sudden making it worse or triggering new episodes. He leans more and more on Cullen for support, weakening gradually as the makeshift bandage around his head begins to darken with blood.

He doesn't need to say anything for the Commander to know when they're within range: the Anchor snapping with a sharp burst of energy as an announcement as it flares up abruptly in the presence of the rift. He is slow to pull his arm free of Cullen's grip, mindful of his own balance, and raises his palm to the glowing portal.

The rift sings with an otherworldly tone as it connects to the Anchor with twisting tendrils of sickly green that flow through and around it like a needle sewing thread. It pulls at Thilfonir's hand, but he pulls right back: fingers curling like grasping an unseen rope and then yanking sharply backwards. As he does, the edges of the rift crash together, meeting with a dull boom as the Anchor disconnects. With a final exhale of spirit energy, it disappears before their eyes; leaving no trace of its presence in the air as it seals completely.

Thilfonir doesn't hear the soldiers' cheers of victory over the pounding rush of his blood in his ears, before his strength finally fails him: collapsing backwards as his legs give out and he succumbs to the beckoning dark of unconsciousness.

[pcrseverance]

Cullen can't say he enjoys being so close to the Inquisitor as he uses the mark., The glow and crackle of the magic feels different to the magic he's found himself close to before, and he can feel the push and pull of it as it connects to the mark through Thilfornir. It makes him grit his teeth, stand his ground, and brace for when the connection breaks because he strongly suspects the Inquisitor won't be on his feet for much longer after.

It turns out he's right, the elf crumples and Cullen's grip tightens to catch him. The journey back is easier than the one to the rift, without the demons plaguing them he can carry the Inquisitor back through to camp where he can lay down his burden and get real help.

He stays whilst the healers do what they need, acquiring a chair to sit nearby whilst he scratches out a report, waiting for the Inquisitor to wake and setting aside the papers when he notices him stir.

"You closed the rift successfully," he tells him, in case he can't remember, because he's certain that's what he'd want to know too. "We're back at camp, with the healers."

[pcrseverance]

|| @champion-fem-hawke liked for a starter

Cullen finds Hawke on the battlements, exactly as he expected, and he settles beside her, forearms on the wall overlooking the hold and the movements of life below. He wonders what it looks like to her. To him, sometimes when he looks out the window all he sees are walls, like he's traded one set of grey stone for another even if their purpose is significantly different.

"What do you think of Skyhold?" he asks after a moment, glancing over at her. "How does it compare to wherever you've been hiding out since Kirkwall?"

[pcrseverance]

|| @reigniite asked for a starter for Clare

He'd seen her at Adamant, in passing. And even if he hadn't he would have known her presence by the whisperings and talk that flew round those gathered. Time hadn't allowed Cullen to seek her out, although he wasn't sure what he'd have said if he had. What do you say to someone who saved your life and witnessed you begging for the slaughter of others that survived?

He gets another chance when he discovers she's followed after Erimond, and whilst he's not lying in wait he does happen to find himself some free time when she concludes one of her talks with the Inquisitor and falls into step beside her.

"Warden-Commander," he greets. "I don't- do you have a moment? I never had the chance to, ah, thank you."

[pcrseverance]

|| @valorcorrupt liked for a starter

Cullen's face is still tight and swollen, it makes his words slur and lisp on occasion and if he tries to bark his orders too loudly and open his mouth too wide it pulls painfully. But his face is the least of his worries, at least that can be pulled together with a few stitches- Kirkwall isn't so simple.

The loss of the Grand Cleric isn't even a concern- he's sure it will be eventually, but that's hardly anything he has a say in. Nor does he think he wants to, he's busy enough with what he can help in. The mages, circle and apostate alike, are both swarming and fleeing and the wreckage- He's not naive enough to think there's anyone left to be saved. Removing the rubble of the chantry will now result in retrieving bodies, not rescuing people.

Hawke seems to have vanished completely, and he's not sure if he's surprised or not but the Warden-

"Inara," he greets, too worn for any of the titles he usually uses, too worn for any of the fluster and stuttering that her presence usually provokes. "What brings you back here? Was life too simple elsewhere?"

[selfishisuppose]

A vaguely plotted starter for @pcrseverance and @inevitableking (in that order, it'll make sense)

How long had the King of Ferelden stayed at Skyhold after his talk with the Inquisitor? Long enough to connect with Cullen, he'd seen them have plenty of talks. Well, at least those in the garden, not that he'd been close enough to listen in. He'd partially been jealous, he had been certain there was something between himself and the Commander, but maybe he had been too slow, maybe he had missed his chance.

Yet Cullen still looked at him like that, in that way that made him feel so completely safe, so seen in a way no one else managed to. So what was all of this? Not to mention that he'd also had several good chats with King Alistair, and he could swear that there was something magical and beautiful as well between the two of them. But no one acted, they all stayed awkwardly polite at whatever mess this was going to be if someone stepped outside the mutual yearning gazes that seemed to go in two directions for all three of them, which had led to all three trying to avoid being in the same room altogether, maybe in fear of ruining what the other two might be on the brink of having. And he couldn't have that.

Maybe it was stupid, but he'd invited them both to a game of cards, pretended there would be more than the three of them, and made sure that not even Leliana was on her perch above the library as he laid out the table, cards, wine, and a bit of bread, sausage and cheese in case someone hadn't had dinner, or just felt like an evening snack. The game was ready, and there was only three chairs and a vague plan, and his own far too quickly beating heart at the idea of trying to not only enamour two men, but hoping those two men saw his vision and wanted each other as well. Maybe he should have gotten something stronger than wine for his nerves at least, but he was as ready as could be, several candles making sure the library would be lit for hours even when it soon got darker outside.

There were steps on the stairs behind him, and while he figured Cullen would take the walkway across it was clear that there was more than one pair of feet coming up, so the two of them were joining him together. From below. Had they been in the hall? Not that it mattered, Dorian greeted them both with a smile. "There you are, I was worried I'd just have to sit here for myself," and while there were solo card games, that wasn't what he had envisioned for the night. "I hope you've practised since the last game," he said to Cullen, and gestured for them both to come sit at the table that was on one end pushed against the wall.

In truth he hoped Cullen hadn't practised, and he doubted he'd had the time, it had been a glorious vision the last time they played. Dorian seated himself when everyone was seated, and started to mix the cards before sharing them between the three of them until each had a full hand for wicked grace.

[pcrseverance]

"Dorian," Cullen greets the other with a smile when he comes into view, following a step behind Alistair, ushering the other up the stairs first with a hand at the middle of his back, hovering without touching. He feels he's been doing that a lot of that lately. "Are we late? Or- ah, perhaps we're early..." he corrects as he sees the mage is alone.

Completely alone, it seems. He looks about for the familiar faces that usually frequent the space. They didn't pass Solas, but that meant little with the time he'd been spending with the Inquisitor as of late. It was the lack of even the more diligent of scholars around the library that stood out.

He pulls out the chair for Alistair, more out of habit than it being Alistair, and sits down himself, looking suspiciously at what Dorian has set out.

"I was just telling Alistair about my last attempt at cards... but there were just a few more people to rob me of everything then. You've only put out three chairs."

@inevitableking // @selfishisuppose

[pcrseverance]

|| @samahla liked for a starter

"And so you allied with them?" the question is somewhat incredulous, given what he's just heard. The recount of the events from Redcliffe doesn't inspire trust in those the Inquisitor has brought with her, who's to say they still won't fall to such disaster?

"Were there conditions to this allying or are they simply... coming in unchecked?" he asks, already trying to figure out the technicalities. The best ways to distribute the templars until the new additions could prove trust worthy, any way to check for rogue Venatori hiding amongst them.

[pcrseverance]

|| @dwnstone liked for a starter

It's difficult not to stare. The anchor on the mans hand flickers and sparks, green lightning captured in the palm of a hand and so start and unusual it catches his attention each time the Herald's hand moves. So it might be difficult not to stare, but Cullen's managed to endure many difficult things and he keeps his eyes politely averted each time. He suspects Cathal has had enough of staring.

It doesn't stop the concern, though, or the curiosity. He bites his tongue and keeps it bitten for weeks, not wanting to be another adding to the crowd around the Herald but there's a lull in both the crowd and his own judgement after Leliana and Josephine leave their most recent meeting and he allows himself to enquire.

"I hope you don't think this rude, but the mark- does it cause you any issues with the sword you wield?" he asks when the others are out of earshot. "Ah. Not to say there's anything amiss with your sword work, but I know the discomforts of trying to fight with an injured hand."

[dalishflame]

They almost leave then and there, with parting instructions for exactly where to stick those snide remarks. They feel like a child, scolded by their Keeper for imagined slights. She was good at those, putting them in the shoes of someone older, wiser, better and then chastising them for tripping. They were allowed to be upset then, they're allowed to be upset now, and yet Cullen's gaze stirs that same shame in their belly, the knowledge that they've been judged and found wanting again.

"You could have tried to know me." They snap, but it's the weary bite of a beast too worn for much more than a token effort. "You could have approached me at any time to clear the air, instead of leaving me to find out on my own."

Just like Cullen before them, they visibly flinch, his words landing sharp and precise. Arms wrapped tightly around themself, they take in a shuddering breath, that anger and hurt choking them. "Yeah? Well I had nightmares from the age of six about being ripped away from my family." Finally, they turn from the window, but still, they are not quite able to meet his eye. "I'm sorry I locked the door, alright? It was stupid, but you don't get to condescend to me about why I'm upset."

This whole thing has been stupid, and fucking pointless at that. What had they really expected, that they would come barging in and Cullen would demur and apologise? Fat chance of that. Elves don't get apologies, and mages get even less. Frankly, they're lucky to have this level of civility. They're gloomy, fatalistic thoughts, but Cullen doesn't live in Atreion's head. The apology doesn't even register at first, and when it does, all Atreion can do is blink. One, two, three times. Until finally, they laugh, surprised and more than a little bitter.

"Yes. It was. And yes, I do. I want you to fucking talk to me. You, Cullen, not the goddamn Commander." The words come in a trickle at first, but once it starts there's no stopping it. "Cause I am fucking scared, alright? I'm stuck with you. When you came here, you had familiar faces, men under your command, people who trust you. I don't. I have no home, no true allies, and no way of escape. If I didn't have this damn Mark it would be all too easy to decide I'm too much trouble and just–" They draw a thumb across their throat with a mirthless laugh. "Do you know how that feels? Like you're trapped, at the mercy of those far more powerful than you are?"

[pcrseverance]

"You're going to need to find another question because I can't change my answer," he tells them. "I didn't approach you to tell you because I didn't know you'd want to know. I can't change that, nor find another answer."

Although he doubts that will settle that matter. Atreion seems particularly perturbed by that matter, for all Cullen still can't change his answer nor the outcome.

His hand drops away from his hair to cushion his chin instead as he leans on the table, listening, trying to pick out the bits he needs to respond to and which are simply Atreion getting things off their chest, things that have been on their mind with no chance to voice until they had the audience Cullen now provides.

The corner of his mouth twitches into a frown, one which he bites back with teeth in the soft flesh of his cheek, trying to maintain his impassive expression.

"The first circle I was posted at was Kinloch Hold," he tells them, almost surprising himself with the words. But Atreion wanted Cullen, and apparently these are Cullen's words, delivered neatly, a report. "During the Blight it became overrun with blood mages and demons. Some managed to flee before the mages put the barriers in place, the others were used for their blood, or became abominations. I was told it took three weeks before the Warden came. I was also told I was the only one who survived, although I've never known why. So I've had some experience, fleeting as it was."

[inevitableking]

There's something flattering and warm about Cullen's admission, though Alistair is quick to swallow the grin that erupts because of it. "Well," he starts, eager to cover his surprise emotions bubbling, "That's either very sweet or deeply concerning for the both of us."

He slows, shifting on his feet, and he's suddenly aware of how close they're standing. "Though I suppose if we're going to waste our time, there's no better way than together. At least then we can blame each other when everybody demands to know what we've been doing. 'Oh, the Commander was going over his training regiment,' I can say. Or 'I was consulting the King on matters of state.' All very official."

The mirth remains, but Alistair's voice drops to something more genuine. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here, Cullen. Truly." A hand reaches out to pat the Commander's shoulder gently before Alistair tucks it back away, uncertain. "I can't think of better company to shirk my duties with. Even if you do insist on looking absolutely scandalous while doing it."

[pcrseverance]

"Perhaps it could be both," he considers, "you can be endeared whilst being deeply concerned, can't you? You're a man of depth."

Cullen has no such qualms with hiding his amusement, the grin coming easily in Alistair's presence as it always does. His presence eases him, something loosens in his chest and the burdens he bears don't feel quite as burdensome.

"You're also a man who's implying he doesn't have much more in the way of hobbies, if I'm to be the excuse whenever you're away from your duties," he points out. His smile softens into something horribly fond he didn't think himself capable of as Alistair offers equally as unusual sincerity. The touch to his shoulder is over far too soon, and he suspects he imagines the warmth he felt through his jacket.

"I'm glad it's you too," he returns, unwilling to leave Alistair alone in his vulnerability. "Here, I mean. There's no one else I would rather scandalise with the base of my throat. You do seem quite fixated on it."

[pcrseverance]

i ended up in waiting mode because i've got a work course next week and it's making me nervey but then Second Waiting mode kicked in because i'm going to download festival alone the month after and i guess double waiting mode cancelled each other out? idk. either way, added a couple more things to the queue. might go rogue and just post things as a reply to them. the surprises never end.

[pcrseverance]

if i queued some starters over a month ago and promptly forgot about them should i just let them roll and surprise people or-?

[pcrseverance]

apologies, idk why but this entire month so far has made me Weary, im not even doing anything to make me tired, the heckie

[pcrseverance]

returned to work, immediately caught a cold, spent a week being snotty, recovered, mentally tapped out for a bit, now back to adding things to the queue

[pcrseverance]

after 8 weeks i am now entirely free of bandages, i have been back to work, can drive again, and life is now resuming.

gonna remain off dash and discord for a bit whilst i fill up the queue because the muse is willing but the attention span is weak.

hope everyone is having a good weekend!

[pcrseverance]

tragically i am in waiting mode which means i cannot function and i'll barely be doing anything until saturday

apologies for the delay and the general silence on discord.

[pcrseverance]

wires are now out! and im back at work!! so general silence during 2x 14hr night shifts (maybe, probably, we'll see how busy it is, but im getting back into the swing of things)