@commendure / commendure.tumblr.com
NOTICE: Hey, guys! I know it has been a while since I've logged on, but I'm afraid I can't devote as much time here anymore. With the semester starting, work and internships, I'm too busy now. I'll try to come back but, at present, I will be on hiatus. Hope to see all you fade-traveling, demon-slaying heroes soon!
Poor Cullen, to stand there looking like the child of burden and misery. A warm laugh rumbled in Dorian’s chest, fire sputtering in his subtle quakes. “It’s fortunate you’re capable in matters of war. You’re terribly hopeless everywhere else.”
He expected to have a moment of peace to himself, maybe to freeze in the snow in seclusion, but he was a fool for thinking that. Dorian laughed beside him and he smirked. "Really? Because I seem to recall you having a losing streak. Or was that someone else?"
Recent, but not recently enough. She supposed the term itself was relatively vague. Recent for her, was hours, for anything less in tracking was worthless. Clear weather, thick forests. On one hand it would be hard for anyone to move lyrium though the forest quickly. On the other, there were a hundred different ways they could have gone.
"In the past day maybe, two, if we are unlucky." She furrowed her brow. There was unease in the air, and Cian’s instinct told her they should press forward. She didn’t want to sit here, for surely they could not hide. Varric, Cassandra, Dorian, Cullen, they were all capable fighters. Slinking through a forest unseen, unheard, though? That much was beyond them.
But there was no forward to press, and this was a matter very time-sensitive. They could not just walk off and hope for the best. The tracks stopped here, clearly someone was cleaning up. Cian glanced at the trees, already searching for one to scale. If there was nothing to find on the forest floor, then perhaps a birds-eye view would help.
"Stay on your guard, I will go up and see if I can see anything. Maybe we can figure out where they’re taking that stuff."
Two days. That gave them a two days head start. Two days to move the red lyrium, two days to infect people, two days to kill. Cullen's jaw tensed swallowing the disappointment, but this was a lead. It was better than nothing.
"I feel it in my bones" Regin replied to him, just as quietly, bowing her head a little.
She had gone out to fight the Elder one, ready to die. For them, she was ready to sacrifice herself— these people that had, without question, accepted an elvhen apostate as their ‘Herald’, had supported and helped her.She had to give all of them a chance, no matter how small it may be. She hadn’t expected to wake up in the snowy cavern, hadn’t expected to be able to find her way to them again.
And he’d saved her, Cullen. Seen her first, carried her back.
Regin bit her lip, quietly. “Then I owe you my life” she said, quietly. “I never would have found my way if those hadn’t been there.” Her eyes moved to his face and she shot him a hesitant smile. She was fond of the Commander— he was a good man. Good Commander. But.. Distant. Very distant.
”.. I’m glad.. Glad that so many DID make it” she sighed. “I wish I could have saved more, done more.” Regin moved, sitting as well and staring at the fire like it held the answers to the world in it. “I think that once we’re fortified and in a better place I will feel better as well.” Her hands shook from fatigue at this point and she shook her head.
"… I never imagined either. I’m glad you saw me— I couldn’t.. I couldn’t have taken another step, at that point" she laughed, weakly. "Saved me twice." She trailed off, awkward. Uncertain. "He.. Wants to be a god. Enter the Fade— physically. He was going to use the mark— the Anchor— to do it.. But well, I ended up with it. Not him."
"We owe you ours," he corrected, firm but comforting. His face betrayed a quiet honesty. "Had you not stayed back, we would all be as good as dead."
It was difficult to accept. All around them, the dying lied and the alive looked on. A young woman was holding onto someone's limp hand, confusing the warmth of her skin for theirs, crying as one by one she felt their pulse fade. She did not scream or wail, because she'd already lost her voice. Someone ran their down hand on her back. Cullen looked away.
The cold mountains gave way to rolling hills and slopping valleys. Cian would not admit it but, she was glad to be near the forest again. It felt familiar and free, in the way that the stone halls of Skyhold still did not. Around them, the trees grew thicker and thicker.
She held a hand up and motioned for the party to stop. She pressed two fingers into the footprint and found the soil loose. Someone had been through here recently, maybe in the past day or two. With any luck, it would be the red lyrium smugglers they were currently hunting.
Standing up, she turned to share the news with her Commander.
The Red Templars were burrowing their way here. Samson--bright, caring, kind--was at the head of their corruption, and the thought of it still burned. The cold winds whipped across his face and he squinted into the horizon. He heard Varric's grunting to his left.
"Well, they sure weren't skipping out on the scenery, that's for sure."
Cullen couldn't smile at that.
Scanning their surroundings, he had a bad feeling about this place, that someone was watching, but his pulse never jumped past 80 a minute. Cian signaled for their stop and he stepped up beside her.
"It looks recent," he said, a cut above a whisper. He looked from the footprint to her. "Do you think they were here?"
Her movements were smooth and careful, gaining her balance just as the Commander turned. She practically jumped on top of him shield first, using his own body weight to pull them to the ground. For a single, brief moment it seemed like she couldn’t get up, but she recovered and pushed herself off of his chest - finding her footing as she backed away, crouched and battle ready with a feline grace. Her hair had fallen from it’s tie and loose strands had fallen across her eyes, but she remained intent on her current objective.
“Ready to continue, Commander?”
Her tone could almost be considered a laugh, and she slowly began to circle him again, gaze never leaving his own. Far gone was the gentle inquisitor, this was the woman who had slain dragons and stepped from a rift unscathed, she was a warrior, a leader - and right now she had her sword angled toward him.
“Or are you done already?”
She jumped on him like an apparition and, instantly, he lost his footing. Falling backwards, he saw something in her eyes, the way her teeth were barred and how her jawline was tense, sharp. The sudden crash kicked the air out of him and every bone in his body trembled. She finally pushed herself off. Slowly, he brought himself to his feet.
He knew what he saw in her eyes. Proud determination.
"I wouldn't say that just yet."
Before his heart finished a pulse, Cullen dashed forward and made several strikes of his sword. His blows were heavier and relentless, but there was a pattern--he hoped she bought into it. Then, suddenly, before he could make another stab, he jerked to a stop and whipped around counter clockwise until the heels of his shoes scarred the ground.
He was going to strike from her blind side.
Embers burn in the palm of his hand - subdued and tame, warm and pleasant - a small comfort in the whirl of freezing cold that'd gripped Thedas. Dorian let the fire crackle and spark, hovering beside the Commander with a grievous sigh. "You must plan on falling ill. Not one of your brightest plans, I admit."
The snow was light but he knew by the blackness of the clouds that it would only get heavier. He wished he had a blanket around him to hide the trembling in his numb fingers, and he tasted blood when his lips cracked. Looking over his work, a sudden fire ignited behind him. His eyes flew open.
"You must plan on falling ill. Not one of your brightest plans, I must admit."
Dorian.
Cullen sighed but appreciated the warmth regardless. He could finally feel his blood run again.
"I have dealt with far worse, believe me," he said, oblivious to the miserable look on his face and his pink nose. "The sooner that blasted hole is taken care of, the better."
Dizziness swamped her, but she stayed steady, watching the Commander quietly, expression sad. She’d failed them— hadn’t protected them from the blasted Elder One, even though as their ‘Herald’, that was her job, her duty. She searched the human’s expression, uneasy. Did he see it that way? Probably. She did, after all.
She really should not be up and about, but if she laid there anymore listening to the grief and pain she’d scream.
"We will. We’ll find somewhere." Regin said, ducking her head and staring at the snow.
He was being evasive, she realized. Avoiding conversation on himself. But wasn’t she doing the same exact thing? The blonde fisted her hand in her hair, frustration mounting in her. She wanted to.. She wanted to kill something. Corypheus, preferably.
"We’ll find a place. We’ll keep moving." Regin said, quietly. "But in all liklihood, he thinks me dead and buried by that avalanche. That might give us time." Her gaze rose once more, back to Cullen’s face. "… I don’t know. I fell.. Through a hole. Into a cavern." A pause— it was hazy. "There was a despair demon, but then I was in the snow, and… Campfires. Left in the snow.." Regin hesitated. ".. Did you allow those to be left?" And then another pause. “I am glad you’re alive, Cullen. I am glad so many of ours have survived.” "But.. Are you alright?"
"I pray you're right." He sounded too quiet to himself.
When the avalanche collapsed, in that one second, the world stopped. They thought for sure in the core of their bones that she died--the Herald of Andraste perished, and with her, the world. His heart must have plunged into his stomach at that moment. And when he found her, knee-deep in snow and eyes rolling to the back of her head, it sunk again. Cullen remembered her weight in his arms.
The mage nodded along — the words sounded like platitudes, as if he had little faith that she would be of any assistance. But even still, it was unlikely that the Inquisition would suffer for having one more body behind them. A somewhat anonymous body, if she were lucky.
"The last I’d heard from any of the other Wardens was months ago, now," It had been an unusually short missive from a kindly older man, a Senior Warden who had offered to investigate a lead for her. His message had informed her of it leading only to a dead end, and then she had not heard from him again. It was worrying.
But a Grey Warden, here? She was sure that they had already wrung him dry of more immediately useful information, but perhaps he might help her put words to whatever foreboding feeling plagued her.
At the least, she might find in him a sympathetic mind.
She almost missed the commander’s pause, as lost as she had been in her thoughts; she took a step further and stopped, listening. With every word, the urge to turn on her heel and run grew stronger — but she stayed rooted in place, feeling for all the world like a child awaiting her scolding.
"Of course. Is there something on your mind?"
He could tell from a single bat of her eyes and the curl of her fingers that she wasn't comfortable around him. He could not blame her and he wouldn't try.
"The last I'd heard from any of the other Wardens was months ago now," she said.
"You and Blackwall both."
She listens with a polite smile before picking a flute of white wine from a servant’s tray. She takes a small sip, wrinkles her nose, and sets the glass on the windowsill behind her in one fluid motion. Though not as lavish as the masquerade at the Winter Palace, there is still a certain decorum to be observed.
She gently waves away every hopeful dancer, feeding them quiet excuses. When she and the Commander are afforded a moment’s peace, she tilts her head toward him in an effort to keep their conversation private.
“Will you think less of me if I confess that I’m one of those people?” She gives him a conspirator’s smile. “You can always decline these invitations, you know. I promise I won’t take offense.”
"There'd be no point," he says, half amused but mostly depressed. "Had it not been you, Josephine would have dragged me along. Something about 'keeping appearance.' I told her I wouldn't attend once," he says, catching her smile. "She found a way."
"Everyone! Attention! Attention!"
commendure
[[ “Sooo… You’re one of the Inquisitor’s advisers, right?
Would you be the guy to talk to about joining this Inquisition or…?” ]]
"If you'd like to recruit, take it up to Lieutenant Allerd." Cullen only looked up from his papers when, from a group of soldiers, one stepped up with a report. He noticed her shadow was still there and finally acknowledged her. "What skills do you have?"
It was strange to see him in a position of authority — the image she held, even after many years, was of a young man, bright eyed and kind, who had practically tripped over himself to follow the Knight-Commander’s word.
It truly had been a long time.
She followed him in, ignoring the feeling in her gut that screamed for her to turn on her heel and flee. It would be just her luck that, of anyone, he would be the first person of rank that she encountered.
And he already wanted her gone, if his words were anything to go by — but of course he would. After the Tower, she doesn’t need to question why.
For a long moment, she remained silent as she walked - to gather her wits, and to decide how to best retreat from him and find Leliana. The thought itself made her feel childish.
"The disappearance of the Grey Wardens," she began, straightening; spine straight, shoulders back, chin up. Varel would have been pleased. "Leliana sent word. I thought I might have some use in the investigation, at least."
She doesn’t mention the song.
"So I've heard."
Of course she's here for that.
Both Leliana and the Inquisitor were talking about it, questioning whether the Grey Warden's disappearance had anything to do with Justinia's death. Even he wondered about it. But more than that, for hours his head ached and pulsed trying to figure out not just why, but where. And then her sudden reappearance... Around them, people's heads turned to watch her walk.
"Where would we be if I did?"
She stepped forward and crouched just slightly, beginning to circle him, licking her lips like a cat watching it’s prey. She didn’t spare the gathered soldiers a glance, eyes trained on Cullen with such intensity that she could hear her own breathing below the men making bets on their two leaders. Lion or lioness? Soldier or Herald? Him or her?
"Or you make good on yours, Commander"
The final word had hardly passed her lips when she leapt forward. The end of her practice sword sought his chest, making an unhelpful but not entirely disappointing first move.
She sprinted forward and experience taught Cullen to react instantly. In a flash, the soles of his shoes dug into the dirt and his hands, numb from holding too tightly, tossed his shield up, blocking off her attack. She did the same exact move before. She knew he'd deflect it.
What are you planning?
He couldn't buy her any time. His heart stilled and quick as a heartbeat Cullen whirled around once with his shield in an attempt to throw her down. But as soon as finished, something was wrong: she wasn't in front of him. He spun around quick, readied his sword, and saw her coming like a blur.
commendure's 100+ followers!
Thank you, everyone, for this milestone. I never thought I'd reach this point so quickly and I never imagined I'd meet such an encouraging, accepting and talented group of people (or fleet of griffons!) as I have with the Dragon Age community. You've all been too kind to me and I can only hope that I can do the same for you. This is only a handful of people, but you're all awesome. And, of course, thanks to fadecloaked for the screencap! To those who have always been there:
necromanciies • ladyambassador • fadecloaked • arielshepard • theghostofthespire
To my fellow commanders:
gladiusknight • lionofhonnleath • redemptior • abirxto • ofrutherford • ferrumleones • battlehxrdened • leonicor
To my new friends:
herherald • ameamin • hallawhite • stabbystabseeker • inquisitorevelyn • heraldofdoubt • prophetry • nightingalia • threewordsandaglove
To those I look up to and/or need to write with:
butilikemyhats • vigiilance • trevelxan • tethrs • alphaqunari • ride-the-bull • valoroun • seekerofbreeches • wardenshonor • tooelfyforyou • pavusarcanus • ofwalks • theharellan • herorecipe
The air was so heavy around the encampment, that she was surprised she wasn’t choking on it.
The people crying, each sob tore at her, as she limped through the people, the little alleys between tents. Regin wasn’t even quite sure where she was going— she just.. She couldn’t lay there while her people— yes, her people— mourned and suffered. But she couldn’t help them either, and that.. That made it worse, somehow. So much worse.
The commander was ahead, and staring at the flames. She faltered a little, looking down. A frown lit her features.
Her memories of wandering in the snow were hazy.. But hadn’t he…? He was the first to see me, wasn’t he?…
The voice of the human male made her jump, pulled from her thoughts, and she blinked, before moving to his side, shuddering at the warmth. She felt like she’d be cold for the rest of her life.
"I’m far better than I was," the elf said, evasively. "What of you, Commander?"
They felt vulnerable and weak. Cullen felt vulnerable and weak. He hated the helplessness. He hated hearing everyone mourn, weep and curse Andraste while all he could do was stand in the snow counting their used up blessings. He had to stay strong. Exhaustion gripped at his bones and refused to let go.
"We have to rebuild, relocate to a new stronghold."
He knew he didn't answer her question on how he felt. But right now, how he felt was the least of his concern. Cullen wanted a map to look at. He had none.
"If we are to have any hope of survival, we need to move forward. Corypheus' army doesn't know where we are but it will not stay that way." A mother wailed behind them. He heard her weight crumple into the snow like a withered leaf and he stopped himself. "When we heard the avalanche, we thought we'd lost you. I don't know how you managed to escape... but I'm glad you did. We all are."
She hadn’t anticipated the fuss her presence would cause, especially not so immediately — but it did happen to - belatedly - occur to her that the whole situation might have gone more smoothly if she’d thought to send someone ahead of her to alert Leliana of her approach, rather than barrelling (rather rudely) through the front gate.
The crowd that had gathered wasn’t quite the uproarious mass of Denerim, with too much loud cursing and too little personal space, but it was still somewhat… overwhelming.
Which only worsened when very suddenly she was faced with that templar.
Of course, logically she knew there was a long period of time between then and now, during which (she had been informed) he had altered his beliefs greatly — even going so far as to leave the Order completely; but even so, her last encounter with one Ser Cullen had gone very sour, and it was very hard to ignore the way her stomach dropped at the sight of him.
She decided to count herself lucky if she didn’t burst into tears and humiliate herself in front of the entire Inquisition.
Recovering slightly, she smiled (as genuinely as she could with her face half-frozen and her nerves in a snit) and offered a bow of her head.
"Commander."
Everyone was still there. Their breaths pushed against the back of his neck and he steeled himself.
"I said back to your duties."
Nobody left. He tried again, louder.
"Now!"
Finally, they started to scramble away.
What was she doing here? Where was she this whole time? She looked the same as all those years before. A little older now: he found the faint lines hiding at the corner of her lips, saw a wiser, more careful look in her eyes. But still too young, maybe still lost in her own thoughts and maybe she still daydreamed at night. He couldn't help but to remember the Circle, how he hurt her. Cullen shoved aside the memories and led her inside Skyhold.
"Why are you--? I mean--Is there something you needed?" he asked, getting straight to business. He was still sorting himself out. "If you're looking for the Inquisitor, she only just left. I would try again at a later time..."
There was so much he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to say. He couldn't put them to words.
She met each and every one of his accusations with a straight back and clear eyes. Burnham was not wrong. She meant to listen to everything he had to say. Once his anger had run its course, then she would make the necessary amends.
If Cian’s temper did not rise, Cullen’s did. She felt it too late, was too flooded by Burnham’s anger that she did grab Cullen in time to tell him no. He shot her only a look, she almost wanted to say there was no need but. A curt command. Cian fell back, walked to the office to wait.
Six minutes filled with shouting felt like an eternity to Cian. But Cullen returned, as he always did. She was waiting without realizing it.
"Cullen, it is okay, you did not need to…" she rubbed her nose. The thought that Cullen, the Commander, had intervened in a small fight on her behalf… It filled her with guilt. He had better things to do. But. But there was a lingering sense of—- She couldn’t put a word to it. Glee? Happiness? Gratitude? Something bright, small and bright, and warm.
"What he said was mostly true anyways. I did steal from the kitchens and I am an elf." The last statement she punctuated with a small grin, lopsided and trailing a little to the left.
The early dawn finally arrived and the morning sun shined its face through his window. Cullen found himself wishing it were warmer in here, that he could hover his hand over a fire and sit back with something hot to drink. He blamed the cold on the hole in his ceiling.
"Maybe not. But he would have been dealt with sooner or later," he said, finally feeling the side effects of a poor sleep. "If we allow him to run his mouth, he'd gladly do so. Burnham will stop at nothing at what he wants."
