@themusespace / @wrathofthewild || dance dance revolution
If there were any worse place to fall asleep, this was it. The orchestral music droned on from the other room, lulling him deeper and deeper into a stupor. Orlesian noble parties were all the rage amongst the movers and shakers of the Inquisition’s contacts, which meant Cullen was forced into working security for a few of these now after the debacle at Halamshiral.
Here he was now, at Leliana’s pointed insistence -- in more ways than one. ‘Just look pretty,’ she’d teased blithely during a council meeting as he lamented his fate as the Inquisition’s newest line of noble bait.
Cullen heard his name called out over the din of conversation, calling for his attention. He turned to face the familiar voice before sputtering and immediately diverting his attention away. Was that a dress or a pile of ribbons pretending to be one? “Oh my goodness,” he blurted, cheeks blistering as red as his crimson uniform. Honey brown eyes averted just as instantly, surveying the space above her head rather than... anything below that. “A-Aren’t you cold?”
