#phocahispida writes

[phocahispida]

Untitled 2017

[phocahispida]

But don't you come here and say I didn't warn you about the way your world can alter

The air in Haven was chilly and snow kept falling from the sky. The Herald had been having a heated debate with some Chantry sister near the Gates. They did not get along very well and Cullen had been glancing to their direction as he oversaw recruits. He had no idea what he could do if the Herald decided to blow the sister up or burn her eyebrows but he still monitored the situation.

Mother Giselle was one of the few people in the service of the Chantry the Herald liked. Not without a certain wariness but she had convinced her that they had enough common ground to work together. That alone was a shining testimony of her talents in both diplomacy and being a cleric. The Herald had once said to him that many of the other sisters and clerics irked her so badly she tried to avoid them as much as possible.

At least the Herald and the sister she had been discussing, or yelling, with seemed to finally reach an agreement. The Herald turned to walk further away from the Gates when she noticed Cullen and smiled at him.

"Commander, walk with me?"

She called out and Cullen must have seemed so surprised that it redeemed a laugh from the Inquisitor. Her laughter was something Cullen genuinely liked about her. It was a noisy and joyful sound with more than a hint of mischievousness mixed in its tone.

"Where are we heading?"

Cullen asked and offered his hand for her. The Herald slipped her arm around his and an unusually intense gust made her coppery hair fly to her face. She rarely kept her hair loose and Cullen caught himself wondering how they would feel against his skin.

Her hair was on warriors ponytail most of the time and the sides were shaved. Every single hair was thick, almost like horsehair. When she opened her common hairdo it seemed like she had enough hair for two woman even as her sides were short. She noticed his stare and quickly fastened her hair.

"Damn impractical, this sort of hair, I know... but keeping part of them long must be some sort of sentimental foolishness, a nod to more peaceful days with my family and surrounded by beauty and profusion."

She looked almost embarrassed and Cullen could not remember seeing her like this. He touched a wisp of her hair and she looked flustered.

"We should allow ourselves some vanities and treasures with only sentimental value. Such as your beautiful hair. Otherwise life easily becomes a gloomy race against time and we drown under all the craziness around us."

Cullen said and noticed he did not follow his own advice well. His life might have meaning when it came to achievements or fulfilling his duties but it had very little joy or happiness in it. That he did not wish to share with the Inquisitor though.

They kept on walking and silence between them was not as cold, hard and rugged around edges than before. The constant fear of imminent, violent end to their exchanges was missing and Cullen almost enjoyed her company.

"We received a letter telling the last part of my... I mean Elmans, Kinseys and Iselas group is approaching and I felt like I wanted to welcome them to Haven without all the recruits and ex-templars ogling them. And if something goes awry, you can be my Commander in a shiny armor and show those causing trouble who's who around here."

She said casually, like they had a habit of strolling around the uninhabited parts of Haven together, and fight triumphantly against groups of rebel mages, templars gone crazy or bandits whose numbers and real intentions were unknown.

”We are doing what?"

He grunted. He was still silently happy she had asked him to come along, instead of dragging her accursed templar friend or some of her the newfound mage followers with her. It puzzled him but his self-searching was interrupted when the Herald patted his arm reassuringly.

"We are going to be fine. And now we are there."

"There" seemed to be a small mound next to the road leading to Haven. Standing on it they could see far but not be seen when approaching Haven. Woods standing on both sides of the road provided few convenient trees for them to peak through and yet find cover.

Cullen nodded his silent approval for her choice of location and reminded himself she had survived in the wilderness and in the middle of chaotic fighting between mages and templars for quite some time before becoming the Herald. And worked as a commander of her own force moreover. She had to be both skilled fighter and clever enough to hide and choose her routes carefully in order to do that.

The Herald raised her chin and breathed through her nose.

”There’s a snowstorm coming. Let’s hope the mages will reach us soon.”

They stood in the freezing wind that truly had that special scent of closing winter storm in it. The storm had been on its way for days but now it was almost over them. Cullen shivered and he realized he’d been so distracted by Heralds request to accompany her he had left his usual overcoat lying on a stanchion near the training grounds.

His hands were even colder than usual. Whereas he once had a good resistance for cold, nowadays his fingers and toes had a habit of freezing due to withdrawal his body was going through. He tried to sink his hands into his pockets as his thin gloves did not help too much.

The Herald was wearing only her light blouse and trousers but she was covered with an impossibly warm looking, woolen cloak that was so long it touched her heels. The cloak had a sizable hood and it was embroidered with pictures of mountains, flowers, falcons and grand horses. Its color was deep green with a shade of turquoise. It was still a fine piece of clothing but with closer inspection one could tell it had been worn for years. For what it was worth, its owner had taken good care of it. Cullen suspected it was part of the Heralds personal property Isela had taken care of and given back to Herald when she found out she was still alive.

She saw him glancing her cloak and smiled a knowing but otherwise unreadable smile. Then she opened the brooch that kept the cloak closed. It was made of serpentstone and shaped to resemble a horse head. The Herald handed the cloak over to him. Cullen stepped back and made rejecting gestures with his hands.

”I can’t take your cloak, you’ll freeze!”

He tried to oppose but the Herald stepped next to him and continued her motion until she was behind him. She rose on her tiptoes and set the cloak on his shoulders and turned him carefully around to fasten the cloak with her horse-head brooch.

”Well here we stand, the most hardy Free Marcher on this side of the Waking Sea and a Ferelden who is unnaturally vulnerable to cold if not buried under a pile of blankets.”

She teased and viewed him like she had wanted to see how he looked in the cloak that he assumed to be something she associated with her family. Then she cupped his larger hands into hers, like it was the most natural thing to do. Cullen stared at her as she spoke. Heat was spreading all over him, from both the cloak she had warmed with her body and her unnaturally warm hands into his palms and fingers.

”Can you hear them singing? The wind carries their voices. They are both afraid and full of hope. Maybe the fighting will finally stop? Will world will be whole again? Could it help if hey can show their worth to the world and take part in shaping the history? One day they could have children and raise them like everybody else does, without prisons and no-one treating them like filth. These last ones to arrive are the grandmothers, mothers and children, those who nurture and create the future. Can you hear them chanting as they march, can we give them hope?”

She asked and let his hands go. The Herald pulled the cloak around his hands and climbed down from the mound and walked to the direction she had pointed out. And yes, mages were approaching them, small, black insects in the wast landscape, trying to outmatch the falling night and rising storm.

Cullen rose the hood to protect his head from the wind and suddenly the scent was all around him.

It was both exotic and familiar. Fruity-sweet blend like some dessert or foreign drink you could end up having in your glass when attending grand parties. It had top notes of common rhubarb and pink pepper which you could find in most kitchens. Some fruits he had barely tasted added edgy odor to it, the fresh but not acrid scent might have been from something like a kiwi.

The aroma was so stunning it caught him off the guard. Like especially delicious food in the middle of dire circumstances, heartbreakingly beautiful song starting to play in the midst of sorrow or sudden, striking scenery when the road had been long and journey felt pointless.

The Herald was so far away she could not see him clearly and so he pressed his nose against the hood and inhaled the fragrance.

When it got deeper he could smell garden flowers blooming between those sharper notes. They smelled like summer day: sitting under cyclamen and jasmine, eating watermelon when the sun was high in the sky and birds were chirping in harmony. Cullen closed his eyes and could almost see The Herald in the Marches, playing in the garden with his siblings, his golden brown skin shimmering in the sunlight and her heart full of joy.

The perfume wasn’t screaming clichéd feminine features, but neither was its user. Its combination was creative and different, almost experimental like the free-spirited woman wearing it.

He drew the scent in like he wanted to get intoxicated. The base of musky odor, sandalwood and some citrus woods found him, like a forest or orchard was growing nearby and letting its earthy whiff mix with more distinct odours. Their combination was seductive and intriguing and he had to pull the hood away in order to clear his head.

He squinted and saw the mages had almost reached The Herald and their encounter was joyful. Many of the mages hugged the Herald. Even from this far away he could tell this was a reunion these mages had not expected to happen any more than those who came before them. They took their time to embrace each other before they started to climb upwards.

When they approached him he felt stupid in his borrowed cloak, though he was at least as resistant of leaving the warmth inside it. The Herald did not ask for her cloak back, only offered her arm as they escorted the mages up to Haven. Her smile was radiant and she looked over her shoulder every other second, shouting questions and answers to those who had come back to her. Most of her words were swallowed by the howling wind and finally she gave up.

The storm was upon them and when they managed to reach the training grounds blizzard raged all around them. It turned out the Herald had snatched his coat on her way to the Haven Chantry, probably to secure it from being buried under piles of snow. Cullen noticed it only when they had finally housed all the mages. He was about to comment their trip and point out it could be seen as a timely rescue and considered to be another of the Heralds miracles.

But he forgot all the smart remarks of coincidences or wonders altogether when he saw a familiar piece of clothing hanging on her shoulder. An almost guilty smirk lit her face. Cullen couldn’t help but smile back; She had been burying her nose into the fabric and sniffing it before he caught her in the act.

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