For pavus_redemit Kirkwall

[lovingvambrace]

The taste of ash lies thick in the air. For once something manages to overpower the foundry stench and blacken the perpetual orange of Kirkwall's night sky. Rubble lies massed in the streets, flung from the highest point to almost the lowest. Insanity and sudden chaos in the wink of an eye, a fateful explosion that has Cullen still blinking back blue lines, negative light impressions burned onto retinas.

Knight-Commander Meredith has left the Champion with an ultimatum that she not surprisingly doesn't take, murder her companion and choose their side, or the mages will all face the consequences. Hawke has vowed to fight to the bitter end to protect the mages of the Circle from the Right. Cullen privately hopes that she'll keep that word whether he agrees with her sparing of the abomination or not. This is all moving too fast with blame falling in the wrong quarter. The right answer isn't more blood. Meredith is implacable with all of them drawn along in her wake of righteous fury.

Cullen doesn't stay silent, arguing about the Champion. Surely arrest will be enough. Kirkwall's nobility won't stand for one of their grudging own being murdered by the arm of the Chantry. It isn't their place, Viscount or no Viscount in office. To his surprise, he earns concession on that front.

Then there is no more room for talking. They come upon their first wave of demons and abominations slaughtering unfortunates. The night turns red and black, a mist of blood and ichor. Cullen bashes his way through wave after wave of evil torn straight through the Veil, called by violence and horror. His sword arm burns. His shield feels as though it gains twenty pounds of its own volition, all of that before they reach the Docks District.

He hears a sound up toward the boarded up Qunari compound, more fighting. He peels away from the main force following Meredith, promising to catch up shortly, and runs up the steep steps. Breathless at the top, he sees flashes of fire past the barrier. He throws his weight behind his shield and bashes it in enough to gain entrance. A lone figure stands in the long abandoned plaza battling demons with magic and not an abomination himself. Without further thought, Cullen charges into the fray. "Aid behind you!" he shouts. He doesn't want to be mistaken for another enemy in the fight.

Comments

[pavus_redemit]

"They... well, a lope is a good word for it. They're predators and move differently than prey like horses but a well trained one is very comfortable but if you're not ready for the spring you'll get tossed right out of the saddle." He doesn't comment on the physical games. He would have enjoyed them and hated them at the same time.

"I had one as a young boy. Victus." He smiles fondly at the memories. "Fouled tempered beast to anyone but myself. Bit the stable hand once. After that I had to tack him myself."

[lovingvambrace]

"Perhaps I'll ride one some day." He's not sure when or if that will ever happen, stuck as he is here with no end to it in sight. He doesn't have the time or the resources to go gallivanting off riding odd creatures. It's a nice enough thought to entertain.

"You had all the most interesting pets. We had dogs and draft horses. Not that the horses were pets." Or that they were easy to ride with their broad backs and impossible heights. It didn't stop him and his siblings from trying. As before when speaking of his past and family, there's a faint wistful quality to it, likely something he's not fully aware of.

[pavus_redemit]

"I would be absolutely stunned to see one this far south. They don't really like cold weather." It would make him more homesick to see, though. Little things were tolerable but something that is so much his home and his childhood would cut deep.

"A Ferelden owned a dog. I'm shocked," he drawls with a bit of a smirk. "I do not understand the obsession, honestly, but it's better than Tevinter and blood magic." He would not point out how wistful Cullen sounded. Things were rough enough for him. No need to make him sad.

[lovingvambrace]

"Something you have in common," he says, the tone faintly teasing. In increments some of his better humor from before is starting to return. He's still feeling more cautious and wary than before, something he wants to bridge and isn't certain how.

"Of course you don't. You're not Fereldan." He shakes his head. No, he'd never expect a foreigner, any foreigner, truly to understand the deep bond his countrymen have with their dogs or what they mean to them. More than almost any other strange affectation of the Marchers, the realization that they didn't view dogs the same way, that no one else did, had been the biggest culture shock of all.

"You have changed my view. At least of some Tevinters. It's encouraging to know that there are some quarters that see blood magic much the way we do down here."