I shall see the stars chapter 6 preview
Sorry, the holiday season has been super busy. But hey, that break from uni means I am extra motivated to write now that I'm going back
/(ㄒoㄒ)/
Anyways, Ch 6 is about half done (it will cover the content of Chapters 4 and 5, so it's gonna be fairly beefy), so it'll be on it's way soon!
As usual, you can find it here, on my AO3
Excerpt below cut :) - (extra long to make up for my absence!)
He barely takes heed of the noise of Bianca being loaded, or the low thrum of Fenris’s brands flickering to life, so focused is he on removing threat to his newest ally. In fact, he only takes notice of anything other than the slack, terrified look on Cullen’s face when he feels the malevolent whisper of Idunna’s magic come to focus on him, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He whirls back around to face the sodding maleficar – Why did it always have to be blood magic in this Maker-damned place? Why not a normal murderous prostitute? – and pulls Cullen, stumbling, behind him as he swings his staff from its place on his back and pours his whole self into breaking Idunna’s magic, the bright glow of raw, unformed magic spilling from the conduit. He hears the dull impact of what must be him hitting the stone wall, and winces, but pays it no notice until a split second later when the very air of the room shivers, when the blood magic drains from the room, wrested away from Idunna by the force of will of a Templar’s silence. Her sudden shock at being stripped of her power allows Garret to swing the bladed end of his staff in a whistling arc, severing her head clean from her shoulders in a spray, and Fenris to blink in and out of reality then reappear with the bloodied lump of her heart in one hand. There is a wet thud as both her head and heart go falling to the floor. Garret whirls about once again, and makes his way over to where Cullen is leaning against the wall, hand gripping the pommel of his sword so hard that the knuckles were white. He flinches back from Garret’s approach, eyes wild and wide in terror and the sort of panic you see in the eyes of a horse about to bolt. The shivering is absent now, replaced instead by a total lack of movement at odds with the sweat beading on his temple, and the small, high-pitched whine coming from the back of his throat as he slides down to the floor. He’s panicking. Garret summons a shard of ice to his hand, and, kneeling, places it against where his hand had been earlier, drawing a sharp gasp of air from Cullen’s mouth, the shock enough to shake him loose from whatever spiral he was in.
This trick had always worked for Garret when his father had used it to get him out of a funk.
Holding the ice in place, Garret starts rambling on again, talking about Lothering, and how he stole the apples from their neighbour’s tree in the Autumn, and how both Carver and Bethany always used to trail so closely behind him they tripped on his heels. He can feel a low, pleased smile tugging at his face as the templar’s breaths come easier, and as awareness comes back to his eyes.
“You back with us now, Cullen?” he asks, voice quiet with the weight of his concern.
“Hmgh, I-I don’t-can’t,” Cullen groans out, “My apologies, Hawke, forgive me – the use of blood magic in an enclosed space brings back some, hm, unpleasant memories for me. I am fully myself again now.”
“Good.”
It was good, and the vicious, snarling creature in the hollow of his chest stopped howling in discontent. The smile became a full-fledged grin of relief, and Garret stands, wiping the ice-melt off on his trousers. He turns to make some witty comment to Varric, who is approaching the odd pair, only to blink in shock as he levels Bianca square with Cullen’s chest.
“Hey, Birdy, I don’t know if you noticed, but you just used magic in front of Curly here. You know, Curly, the bleeding Knight-Captain of the Gallows. You might as well have signed your own death warrant.”
What in the actual sodding fuck was he on about? Couldn’t he see Cullen’s total lack of reaction to his use of magic? Feel the way the Silence from earlier had rent the magic from Idunna’s grasping hands, but ignored him? If a Knight-Captain of Cullen’s calibre – evident by the blade-edge sharpness with which he had bent his will to purpose – wanted him gone, he’d be clapped in irons and on his way to the Gallows by now.
Before he can snarl or snap back at Varric’s foolish assumption, can make sure that pretty face doesn’t stay all twisted up in fear and panic, a desperate hand latches in the ruff of fur around his waist.
@dreamingofthewild @acreaturevoid @dogot
