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There is no great showing of generosity. She knows the Commander doesn't appreciate pomp and circumstance. And so she leaves a small, unassuming box atop his desk in his tower. Within is an assortment of sculpted marzapan lions and lionesses roaring and sleeping and stalking prey. On the box is a note: "Sweet lions for a sweet lion. -E"

He sighed as the walkway to his tower opened up, allowing him into the dimly lit interiors of his quarters. The faint scent of crystal grace blossoming at the first morning of winter still lingers in the air around him. He knew it was her. His eyes then fell at the breadth of his desk, a small plainly looking box in sight. And here I thought I made it clear I didn’t want anything…

His lips echoed the message, reading it a few more times. "Sweet lions for a sweet lion…" He tried to convince himself by prying his eyes more open to wake up on this unbelievably sweet dream only to find that he was already wide awake. Did she just call him a sweet lion? And when did it occur as common knowledge that he has a penchant for simple sugary confections? He was certain he did not make it as clear as day. Or did he? No, it was not him—Josephine. He may have to tell her a few words later.Shaking his head to dismiss the thought, he now eyed at the family of lions and lionesses that scattered around the tiny wooden enclosure. Each were crafted very intricately, tiny masterpieces that looked as if they were real. In silence, he observed them in awe, taking note of the skilled artisan behind such beautiful crafts. Do they make puppies out of this, too, he wondered. With extreme caution, he picked up the one at the middle, the one showing its teeth as it roared, the one that wore a thicker and darker mane, the undeniably leader of its pack. He stared at it, its sweetness whiffed through his nostrils.It was too beautiful to consume.

#prophetry #answered.#wintersend.#[ Evelyn this was really sweet and now Cullen feels bad #cause he got you seeds instead of a puppy asdefr ]#[ Maybe one day-- ]

The wine bottle winked faintly in the wash of sunlight, garnished with a ribbon and bow that coiled up along its base. It sat untouched beside the Commander's stack of papers (too many, of course), with a small card slipped underneath. Dorian's writing inked the back: Busy, I take it? When aren't you. Do us all a favor, and take just a second for yourself. Enjoy it with wine, and perhaps even company. I'd be insulted if I wasn't invited--I'm quite the pleasure. Happy Wintersend -- D. Pavus.

The moment he stepped inside his office, he already knew something was off as he was blinded by the shine somewhere at his desk. He didn’t remember his desk being shiny. As far as he could recall, it was as cluttered as he preferred it to be— not shiny. If anything, his desk was an utter mess, decorated by stacks of documents and emptied bottles of generic liquor. The kind his throat and his taste buds were accustomed to. Intrigued and slightly puzzled footsteps marched onward. The more he approached, the more it made itself clear. It was without a doubt an expensive bottle of wine just by looking at how the text on its label swirled and curved stylishly. The way the ribbon adorned elaborately around its base only accentuated its elegance further. Josephine? Vivienne? Or—He then pulled out the card, the penmanship echoing the message clearly in his thoughts as he read it, a grin touching his lips. Without even finishing the flow of text, he already knew who it was from— Dorian. Of course, who else?

Perhaps he’d save it for later and possibly share it with someone as they play the game of chess or perhaps… He glanced back at the slender body of the glass bottle, succumbing to its call as he opened it and poured some of the rose liquid into his cup.And not a single paperwork was finished that day.

#necromanciies #answered.#wintersend.#[ !!!#Thank you Dorian u w u #now Cullen can enjoy a fab wine ]

"A list for Wintersend? You make such lists for Wintersend?" "Uh-- Yes, Ser. It may contain things such as asking a person to smile or um, toasts and jellied ham." "So a list for odd requests? This sounds ridiculous." "Yes, I mean, no, Commander. I'm sure you'll come up with something. Lady Josephine would need them by tomorrow." "Well tell her I refuse." "By tomorrow, Commander." After the doors had closed behind Carol, one of the couriers, Cullen sat alone in his desk, obscured by the sunlight that reflected against his armor. He glanced down at the spread of polished oak, and his vision quickly lost their focus under a sea of papers and half-opened scrolls. Clearing his throat, he picked up a pen and a sheet of paper. He stared at it for a long while, his mind swimming in thoughts between asking a person to smile and toasts and jellied ham...

For Cassandra to partake in the morning drills. Please stop asking. Craft more shields as part of Iron Bull's training exercises. We can't afford to lose any for our men's use. Reminders posted that says not to jump over the wall walks, addressed to the Inquisitor. Josephine, the coat was fine and I liked it. You may now stop sending one of Leliana's spies to take my measurements. Thicker armor, cold resistant preferably, for all our soldiers. Boar stew and butter cookies for everyone to share. A brigade of Griffons.