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Who: cullen rutherford & you?
What: cullen wakes from being dead. it's an odd sensation.
Where: chez inquisition & the river.
When: 4/25
Warnings: uh. former character death?? will update if needed.

CHEZ INQUISITION ( CLOSED TO CECILY )

[ when he wakes, he doesn't immediately open his eyes. there's a moment where he thinks this can't be real and has to calm himself down. psych himself up to seeing where he is. it's one thing to know hope revives the dead. it's another thing entirely to experience it for oneself. cullen is real. he is breathing. and he is most definitely not at the river bank where he was when he died.

maker.

when he opens his eyes and sits up, the first thing that catches his eye is a bundle of clothing sitting across the room. his clothing. just like that, any thought he may have had as he died of not going back home because of the shame is utterly dashed. on legs as shaky as a newborn foals, he dresses. walks home.

it's the middle of the night. if cecily knows what's good for her (and sometimes she doesn't, but cullen is praying she does this time) she'll be at home in their bed, asleep. andraste, please let her be home and asleep.

she is. cullen silently thanks the maker's bride and lets out a shaky sigh. he closes the door to their bedroom and settles against the wall across from his almost-wife. cullen wraps his arms around his knees and finally allows himself to give into the tremors and the uneasy feelings that have been dogging his steps since he woke up. on the bed, pup slowly wakes, then slides down to the floor to curl around his partner, whining quietly. ]

RIVER BANK ( OPEN )

[ maybe there's something wrong with him.

every time something terrible happens here, he finds himself drifting back to the place that harrowed him. just so he can look at it. stare for a while. tell himself that it's over until he starts to believe it. even just a little. it's something he's been doing since kinloch--since the horror and torture that happened there. he never made it back up to the harrowing chamber, but he'd moved from room to room after they'd been cleaned and he made himself think it was real. it happened. it's over now.

cullen sighs and rubs a hand over his face. at his side, his dog pants and watches him carefully. at least until someone distracts him, and then he barks in greeting, pulling cullen's attention away from his dreary thoughts.

he offers a half-hearted wave of greeting for those he's familiar with, and a nod for those a little less familiar. it's only polite, after all. ]

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[ At first, the sounds are parts of her nightmares. She is a monster, a wendigo, and she's the one who killed Cullen. Her mind screams against it, but the inhuman claws tear through him as easily as through water. He doesn't make a sound, but she's shrieking, releasing a long, unending string of the creature's howls. Then, she's frozen, back in her own, whole body, but alone. Cullen is gone, but she hears his voice, hears him singing and praying and he's underground, she thinks, and immediately tries to dig, claws at the earth until her hands are covered in blood and the ground gives way, but he isn't there (nothing is) and she falls into a void of bright, bright green.

It's the change in pressure that eventually brings her back to the waking world. First, she stirs, muttering, unsettled, stretching out her fingers to curl against him-- but it isn't Cullen, who is actually dead, and the dog who has physically taken his place isn't there, either. She thinks it's part of the dream, that all of her friends will have been taken and replaced with faceless strangers, but when she raises her head a few inches to peer into the darkness, she sees the dog nearby.

With another figure. Before she makes sense of it, she has a dagger in her shaking hand, outstretch toward the stranger. When her eyes adjust and her mind snaps back into her body, it isn't a stranger at all.

She doesn't speak. Instead, Cecily drops the weapon and scrambles out of bed, nearly tumbling to the floor, searching his face with wide eyes. Raising trembling palms to cup his face, but deciding against it, drawing back, just in case. She doesn't touch him, because she remembers what it was like, but she gets as close as she can be without violating that space. ]

Cullen. [ The Inquisitor breathes, emotion rising fast, heart in her throat. ] How-- How long have you been here?

[Liquid moved silently along the river bank admiring the calm view compared to the discord and terror that had been rampaging through the city lately. This seemed a nice change in contrast; no monster chests or people out to kill him. No death. Just water running softly along the bank.

He walked further until he came to a man with a large dog. It looked friendly enough but Liquid was wise enough to know that letting your guard down could be a big mistake, so he kept to himself.]

Hello there. Enjoying the view?

[ he doesn't look up when he hears her moving. instead, he prays that she falls back asleep and curses in his head when she doesn't. it's hard, knowing she's seeing him like this. which isn't exactly a new feeling. it's hard every time he wakes from a particularly rough nightmare and she's there, staring at him with worried eyes. but this... this is worse. he's not sure if it's because of what happened before he died or if it's because he's so shaken. but whatever the reason, there's a small part of him that just wants to curl up even more and not pay any attention to her.

the larger part of himself is the one cullen listens to. that part is yearning for some kind of contact, for something to ground himself in, and so he reaches for cecily. he pulls her in close and wraps his arms around her tight, face resting against her collar bone.

he doesn't think about the way he can't stop trembling, or how his breath is coming a little too fast, and how he's maybe holding on a little too tight. he can't. because then he'll lose himself to the racing heartbeat and the squirming feeling in his guts and the need to get away because the world is pressing in on him and he can't handle it.

instead, he focuses on the scent of her. on the way pup leans solidly against his side. on the way the fabric of cecily's pajamas catches on the callouses of his palms. and he counts each one of her heartbeats.

he doesn't answer her question. ]

[ What she doesn't say, because she can't read his thoughts, is that she's seen him in other, vulnerable states before. That even in her time, years behind his own, she's seen him in debilitating lyrium withdrawal, in moments of his questioning his position and ability to lead, in the throes of nightmares that have him gasping and panicked. Just as in those times, the Inquisitor is there, dark eyes scanning his face, not touching until he initiates. When he pulls her in tight, she thumbs gently at the back of his head, tracing curls, a solid presence for him for as long as he wants or needs it. She doesn't and wouldn't say a word about how he's nearly crushing her, about how his shaking makes her feel a fiery anger toward the person who dared to hurt him and bring him to this point. Mostly, it's a sharp hatred for the gods who turned them against each other in the first place and who so callously toy with life and death.

Cecily stalked Hope's temple for hours after she found out that Cullen had died. ... No, that he'd been killed. Finding out that he'd been buried underground in an undisclosed location had been difficult enough and she almost hadn't made it in time to free him. On this occasion, he'd been murdered and had been alone. ]

I'm so sorry. [ She whispers, because she hadn't been there to fight at his side. He'd been killed and she knew (she had to believe, at least, with what belief she could summon) that he would return again the same way that she had. She'd left his clothes in Hope's temple and waited to see his body reappear, but it had taken too long. She'd passed through days and nights in an angry haze, usually only with the hound for company and with viciousness in her eyes.

Now, she's soft around the edges. For now. For him. ]

I'm not sure I've ever told you this, but-- [ She speaks with her chin propped on his shoulder, with him still buried against her chest. Her heart flutters a little in opposition to the oddity that is her speaking more sincerely about her feelings, but this is the time for it. ] I wanted to be a templar, but it took me... too long to realize I didn't have the qualities that make for a good one. When I came to the Inquisition, when we met, I... admired you. From the start, I knew you were a man of discipline, who commanded respect, but also gave it graciously, who had faith in the worst times and courage throughout. I could see that back then, things I didn't believe I had in myself, and I've only grown to think more and more of you with every day.

[ The Inquisitor doesn't draw back, not until he wants to, but squeezes him briefly in their embrace. ]

You are a better and stronger man than you have ever given yourself credit for. This may shake you, but nothing could keep you from rising up again. I believe nothing if not that. If not in you.

[ there is no pulling away. how could he, after she's said all that? in fact, if he could hold her tighter, he would. as it is, though, all he does is grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut as a dry sob catches in his throat and shakes his shoulders.

how often has he berated himself for slipping, for not being strong enough, for giving in to the fear after kinloch? here, in hadriel, he'd been cursing himself for how he hadn't been able to stand firm against rage's influence. and yet... how many times has he wished for someone to say those words to him? to acknowledge that even as he's failed (and he has failed) that he's struggled as well. he's pushed through and tried to find his feet again. tried to be a better man and not let his past break him.

she sees. she recognizes it. and even knowing his failures, she still believes in him. cecily is seeing him in a terrible moment and she still loves him, admires him, and is trying to build him up.

cullen presses his face into her chest a little more as a few hot tears escape his lashes. for the first time in a long, long while, he's not ashamed of them. ]

I love you. [ he says quietly, hoarsely, words muffled against her skin. ] I'm sorry. [ for dying. for crying all over her. for losing himself a little. ] Thank you. [ for understanding. for being here. for holding him and hopefully letting him be the little spoon later. ]

Maker, I-- [ what else can he even say? he sniffs quietly and repeats himself. ] I love you.

[ if this were one of cassandra's romance novels, this would be the part where he would say something like 'you make me a better man.' that's only partially true, though. knowing cecily and having her support have made him better, but she is not the only reason for it. for what may be the first time, cullen is okay with the fact that he's determined to be better for himself first and everyone else last. and he is so very, very grateful for cecily and everything she is to him. ]

[ This is new. It's one of the experiences that she, in his time, in her future, may have had, but which hasn't happened for her until now. She feels the tears trail from his skin to hers and her eyes widen in surprise. It isn't because of his reaction, because... he's been shaken to his core with grief and crying is a perfectly reasonable reaction. The surprise comes from the realization that they've both opened up a little, that her painful honest drew forth a painful honesty from him, too, in another form from her own. Never mind that she's never seen him exactly like this, having suffered so greatly in one instance. Her hand curls against the nape of his neck. The anchor offers one, brief sputter of green. ]

I love you, too. [ She soothes quietly. ] And you know you shouldn't be apologizing.

[ If anyone's to blame, it's--... well, in this case, Rage. Certainly not Cullen himself, and not even the person who took his life, though she can't help the prickles of protective indignence that flare up inside of her despite that knowledge. ]

I meant it, Cullen. [ Cecily says. Their breathing is sometimes in sync, then it falls to alternating again. Their hearts beat in steady rhythms, both trying to make up for time lost to death. ] And I know for a fact that I'm not the only one who thought that way about you. You inspired those people when they didn't have anything. You helped to build the Inquisition from nothing into something amazing. You gave more of yourself to that cause than most people will ever give to anything.

[ The Inquisitor presses a kiss to the side of his head, hovering, taking in the scent and the feel of him, alive and warm. ]

You're an incredible person. You deserve to know that.

[ he has no response for her. not even an argument from the part of him that is self-loathing. all he has is ragged breaths and fingers spasming against her back as he roots himself in the feel of her against him. a swirl of fear, and shame, and relief roars within him. but with each passing second, with each heartbeat he feels in her chest, it subsides.

the tension in his shoulders slowly eases until he's slumping against her, still holding her close to him, but looser now. more lax with exhaustion. cullen nuzzles her collarbone slightly. winces at the tacky feeling of dried tears on her skin. there are still jitters in his chest, an echo of twitches and trembles in his muscles that won't leave him for hours yet, but the worst of the storm passes.

he sighs. ]

You're so good to me. [ that's more of an awed observation than a complaint. ] Thank you. For the clothes and-- [ everything else.

he presses a soft, chaste kiss to the join of her neck and shoulder, then pulls back enough to scrub his face. the breath he lets out as his head falls back against the wall is shaky. but his hands aren't as they find a place resting on her hips. ]

Fuck.

[ it's really the only word that can encompass all this. ]

[ She merely strokes the back of his head, muttering little nothings as she quivers slightly against her, relieved when he seems to, eventually, calm. She hasn't forgotten how it felt to die and be brought back and everything he'd done for her, so to be able to do the same for him is... a welcome change. ]

You're welcome. You never need to ask; I'll always be here for you. [ When things are good and they're both happy and when things are awful and they need each other's support more than ever. He draws back and she offers him a little smile, even scoffing, amused, at the curse. ]

Hear, hear. [ She murmurs, thumbing idly at his hand. ] So, can I entice you with a bath? I speak from experience when I say that it helps.

[ Warmth and water, particularly from the strange fixtures of their home, are always welcome aids. After dying... well, it'd felt immensely comforting. ]

Are you hungry at all? [ Cecily searches his face, looking for any physical signs of injury or hurt, but it's all within him. It hurts her, too, and she has to remind herself that her anger is misplaced when the desire to seek out his attacker flares up. ]

[ he thinks it over for a minute before nodding. a bath sounds heavenly right now, actually. being clean, and warm, and keeping cecily close all sound like things he wants more than he think he can articulate. ]

I'm not hungry. [ he doesn't think, anyway. his mind is still in the jittery, post-panic state and somehow that's also making him feel exhausted at the same time. how that works, he doesn't know. it just does. ] But a bath sounds nice.

Join me? [ because, honestly, it's the having her close bit that he likes the best of those three things. ]

All right. [ Cecily slowly disentangles herself from him, though she takes his hands in her own to gently lead him upward along with her. Once they're standing, she rises to kiss his forehead, then lowers again to begin the little trek to the bathroom. Pup comes along for the trip, padding behind them, forever concerning himself with the well-being of his master.

The Inquisitor makes a mental note to reward the dog for all his good behavior as soon as she can without Cullen seeing. ]

In you get. [ She says, releasing his hands to busy herself with running the water. After she switches on the knobs, she glances back to him with a little, encouraging smile. I'm not going anywhere. ] Let me know when it's warm enough for you.

[ what a sight they must make, a strange little train heading to the bathroom in the dead of night. once they're safely ensconced in the room, pup lays down right in the doorway and watches as cullen strips and tests the water with his foot. it takes a little while for it to be warm enough--the fact that he likes it hot probably doesn't help matters--but once it is, he sinks into the tub with a sigh and waits for it to fill. ]

Thank you for this, [ he murmurs, catching cecily's hand so he can press a kiss to her knuckles. ] I know I said it earlier, but... thank you.

[ what would he do without her? ]

I've just said you're not to thank me for things like this. [ She tuts, raising a sort of judgmental eyebrow at him. ] Andraste's ass, Cullen, I love you and I want you to be-- safe. Happy.

[ A lot of other things, too, but those two words will suffice for now.

Once there's enough water, she stops the faucet and slips out of the thin layer that she's wearing before joining him. They fit well enough in the tub, having done this before, and she half-heartedly splashes him while studying his expression. ]

I was so afraid you wouldn't come back. [ She says finally, raising her eyes to meet his. ] I hate that I wasn't there; maybe I could have stopped this from happening altogether.

[ i know, he thinks, because he was in her shoes only a short time ago. he spent the nights without her sick with worry, praying without any real hope that she would come back to him and cursing himself for not being there. for not being able to help her.

i'm glad you weren't there, he doesn't say. and suddenly he feels like he may understand her feelings towards everything that happened to her a lot better.

cullen gives her a wan smile and leans his head back against the tile. ] You're here now. That's what's important. [ this is where he needs her. now is when he wants her close. ]

[ The smallest of blessings in this scenario had been that he hadn't... been changed, before his death. He'd still been Cullen and had (she imagines, though she doesn't know) fought to stay alive. The thought of him becoming the kind of creature she had been chills her, even in the hot water, and Cecily shifts to lean against him, draping her bare legs across his, nestling her head in the crook of his neck.

No. That wouldn't ever happen to him. It wouldn't happen to him, or Dorian, or Thom, or Arya, or Sharon, or any of the people she cares about. She would see to it. ]

I'm here now. [ The Inquisitor repeats in a mutter, after a longer pause than might have been natural. ] And I'm not going anywhere.

[ Not if there's anything she can do within her power to keep it from happening. As a small reassurance, she presses a little kiss to his collarbone before settling back against him. ]

Do you ever think-- [ She begins, abruptly, though there's another lapse as she searches for the words. ] ... "How in the world did I get here?"

[ it's not a promise she can keep. the door could steal her away one day without any notice. the gods and spirits and monsters in this place could do all sorts of things to them. and will. but even as cullen knows this--and knows that similar promises he has made to himself and to her are promises he can't truly keep--it reassures him. makes him feel safe. with her against him, the storm in his head and in his heart quiets.

he wraps his arms around her and huffs quietly at her question. it's more than an exhale but less than a laugh. ]

I've been asking myself that question for years. [ kirkwall does that to people. as does the inquisition. ] But moreso these days.

[ kirkwall's got nothing on hadriel. ]

Well, of course you would, that was a silly question on my part. [ If almost anyone in the Inquisition's ranks is prone to philosophizing about the what-ifs, it's Cullen. ... Solas, too, probably, but she tries not to think too much about the elf who got away. ]

It's just, [ She continues, pulling dampened hair from behind her to around and over her shoulder, ] to be here, with the kinds of things that are in Hadriel-- And I don't even mean the monsters, those are less of a surprise, considering. [ They see hordes of demons and monsters and ancient god-magisters all the time. No, it isn't that. ] I mean... well, this, for one.

[ And she gestures vaguely across the bath. The technology, she means, though it's obviously more than that. It's also the people, people from so many worlds with so many differences from their own that it boggles her mind more often than not. It's all very This Shit is Weird: the Inquisitor Trevelyan Story in action. ]

Varric's missing a lot of good story material, anyhow.

I'm still not sure how that thing in the kitchen--the microwave? How it works.

[ which is to say, yes. yes, it's all still bewildering after six months. the fact that most of the people here seem to be used to it in one form or another is even more baffling. what is it that makes thedas so different from these other places that it hasn't got technology like this? ]

Please don't give whatever power is behind the Door any ideas. [ varric in hadriel would be a supremely bad idea. not the least because-- ] I sincerely hope he never writes about me again. Ever.

[ cullen wasn't the nicest guy in kirkwall and while he and varric eventually did become friends, the way he's portrayed in the tale of the champion isn't always great. which is a bit of truth amongst all the fiction and exaggeration that made it into that book. he shudders to think about how varric's rather interesting prose would describe him now.

with a quiet sigh, he rests his chin on cecily's shoulder and lets himself start to relax a little. ]

Though I suppose if anyone else is going to show up, he's not the worst choice.

It-- [ Wait, she'd asked for an explanation on that one, once, and Cecily shuts her eyes tight in trying to recall the answer. ] ... It makes the, ah-- [ She inflates, then puffs out her cheeks in a loud, exasperated noise. ] The particles of whatever you're heating vibrate so much that they warm up. Using... micro-waves, which is where the name comes from.

[ SHARON ARE YOU PROUD OF HER YET ]

Are you worried he'll write about our game of Wicked Grace? [ She asks lightly, turning her head and offering him a little, teasing smile. ] ... I'm sure he could leave you out if you ask, but then the Inquisition's story won't have an explanation of how the armies were managed so well and the soldiers trained so completely.

[ Raising her arms from the water, she mimes holding a sword and shield. Gesticulating with the sword hand, she lowers her voice in a mock of his: ]

"There's a shield in your hand, block with it!" [ Again, she grins, though this time it's a little more cheeky. ] ... I think that was it.

[ that... is more explanation than he ever thought he'd get. especially because he meant that he doesn't really know what buttons to push to make it work, and it's just easier to warm things up on the stove. you know. on the rare occasions that they have leftovers to warm up. ]

He better not write about that game. [ he grumps, but any thoughts of continuing that thread of conversation leave as she mocks him a little more.

cullen snorts. actually, honest to god snorts. ]

Your form is terrible. [ with gentle hands, he reaches out and wraps his hand around her wrist, turning it and positioning it for her. ] Like this. Your wrist will hate you otherwise.

[ those are the words of experience, though it's been many, many years since he was first learning (sometimes the hard way) how to properly hold a sword and how it was different than a dagger grip. ]

[ Cecily also usually chooses the stove over the "modern" alternative, but Sharon has been trying to bring her up to speed on some things (the Inquisitor is still early waiting for her lesson on guns). ]

I'm sure he will. You know Varric: he likes the juicy bits.

[ Which is why, she imagines, a lot of his retelling of the events at Kirkwall were more fantasy than anything... though she also isn't about to ask Cullen for the truth. ]

Well, if you'd teach me to use a sword, it wouldn't be so awful! [ Maybe she's a little wounded, but the only weapon she's ever been any good at is a bow, and it had only been out of spite that she'd learned the skill. ] And I've got no energy to expend worrying about my wrist when I've got a damn menace on my hand.

[ In case you'd forgotten what the real nuisance is (looking at you, disgruntled palm fireworks!!). ]

Is this better? [ She asks dryly, extending her arm exactly how he'd left it. ] Do I stand a chance now, Commander?

[ he hums and rests his chin on her shoulder, eyeing her hand and wrist. ] A chance. But not much more than that, I'm afraid.

[ and for a moment, inexplicably, he is very afraid for her. they have both died once already and they have been here less than a year. what else will the gods and that blighted door throw at them? is there anyway at all they can be more prepared?

his arm tightens around her. ] I could teach you. If you want. How to use a blade.

[ sword or daggers or--whatever she wishes. whatever would help her and give her another advantage against the dangers of this place. ]

[ She can sense the shift in his silence and tilts her head to press lingering kisses to his jaw, to the side of his face. The chance that they have to out-do the gods is not a great one, she knows. Despite her angry ranting against their captors and her insistence that there is a way for them to come out on top, it's far from realistic. All the time there are more of the so-called deities, and though some are obviously worse than others, she has it stone-set in her mind that they're all playing for the same side.

Is there anything they can learn or do to truly protect themselves from something as raw as emotion? ]

I do want that. [ The Inquisitor confirms, settling back against him, inviting him to again place his chin at her shoulder. ] You could train some of the others, too: people who have no experience with weapons. Better that they learn than pick up a sword and hurt themselves with it.

[ They certainly wouldn't be hurting the gods. ]

But not now. [ Cecily speaks softly, as if there was a chance of the training happening at that moment. ] Tonight, you need only to rest and recover.

[ To be here, with her, where she can make sure he's as safe as she can promise. ]

[ he nods slowly, thinking. ] I should put out another call for students. With so many coming and going through the Door, I'm sure there are those who are going to need training. [ and he's lost a few of the students he did have before, right after they got the armory from rage.

but cecily is right. tonight is a time to rest and recover. possibly tomorrow as well, since he knows he won't be getting much sleep this night. all thoughts of planning and training are forcefully pushed out of his head as cullen focuses on the now. the feel of cecily's skin against his. the warmth of the water around them. the hard porcelain at his back. the steady th-thump, th-thump of his heart.

he lets conversation drift for the moment, content to simply hold his wife in his arms and rest against her. if there's anything she wants to say, he is sure she'll say it. but for now, cullen intends to bask in the quiet peace.]

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