lovingvambrace | For pavus

For pavus_redemit Kirkwall

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.

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"I'll be glad to show you what accounts we have in our reports archives. It's not sensitive material. Not all of the knights making their reports will ever win any prizes at writing. The information is solid and accurate. There are maps, too. One of the ruins is at Sundermount." Not that he suspects Dorian is in any hurry to want to return there soon.

The sound of running water is getting louder. Aveline's voice comes from up ahead, sharp but not alarmed. "Hold!"

Cullen cuts a glance at Dorian then steps forward in the column to see what the problem is. When he reaches her it's all too obvious. There's a sheer drop-off into blackness with no obvious path or way down. The closest mage bends to pick up a rock, lights it with a soft glow, and hands it over to be tossed down. Cullen does so. It sails down, and down, and down until it's suddenly swallowed in a plop that takes a second or two to reach them.

"I don't think we're going to be able to get down there today," Cullen says.

Aveline shakes her head. "Then it's the other plan. We block the opening with rubble."

He nods. They don't have much other choice. "Back the way we've come. Keep looking sharp. We don't know where some of those spider tunnels lead. More could have come in behind us." The rear guard also determines to stay sharp in case anything comes up from the deeper cavern.

Dorian is not afraid of heights when it comes to towers and spires of buildings but the edge of the cliff and the sheer drop off make him incredibly nervous. He steps back after he sees the rock fall.

"We have enough mages to bring down enough rocks to block the entrance," he says when everyone backs away from the edge. "Give us some time to place the proper wards to crack the stone and make it fall you'll have your plugged entrance."

Once again the mages looked pleased someone was sticking up for them and their usefulness. A few of them even spoke up and offered suggestions about how to break the rocks and where. Dorian's very proud of them standing up for themselves.

"Yes, we'll do that, better than a barricade more easily removed." No one seems to think it's a bad idea. Getting out of the cave is accomplished more quickly than going in. Everyone seems to feel better about covering known territory. Luckily no more spiders emerge to plague them.

Cullen is happy to be back out in sunlight. The fog has thoroughly burned away to leave them with another fine, warm day. He makes sure all of his people are well away from where the mages are set to work. Aveline does the same with hers. When they finish up here, they'll be free to signal for the ferry and return. It's not as depressing of a thought as it would be had things not gone badly. He'll be glad of the chance to regroup.

It's a simple matter to crack stone. The mages more familiar with ice magic force ice in to every crack they can find in the stone ceiling of the cave and a few feet back. Dorian helps with the fire runes that get laid over the ice.

"If everyone could get back, please, this is going to be quite loud and dangerous," Dorian makes shooing motions to the guards and Templars, the only mage brave enough to order them around. Luckily he has enough respect to manage it. Dorian turns back to the mages with a smile. "Let's show them all it's done, shall we?"

The mages take up position and Dorian and the fire mages cast their runes, melting the ice in the rocks to create water. The ice mages follow up almost instantly to freeze the water again. It expands rapidly among the stones and cracks it immediately. The avalanche falls seconds later, completely covering the entrance to the cave.

It's satisfying to watch a well implemented plan come to fruition. The guards and knights send up a cheer when the rubble settles and the dust begins to clear. "That is the benefit of cooperation," Cullen says cheerfully.

"Now, who's ready to get off this blasted strand and back to some waiting, well-deserved ale?"

There's more cheering. They gather up all of their things and the waiting wounded and start the march back toward the beach where they're to be picked up. It will take two ferry trips as it did the first time. The guards will return first since they were the first arrivals.

"Ale?" Dorian makes a show of wrinkling his nose. "Don't you people know wine is vastly superior?"

He made a show of huffing and puffing about horrible drinks while they pack things up. The mages seem amused but the City Guard after a time, does not. Dorian pays their grumbling no mind.

Besides, Dorian has to distract himself from the inevitable sea sickness somehow. He hates these ferry rides.

"Much harder to get right now." Cullen smirks and claps him on the back on his way toward the front of the column. He and Aveline chat for the rest of the way. He hasn't forgotten their losses. It's just pointless to dwell, especially when morale is so important.

Once they're at the head of the trail down, an archer sends up a red flaming arrow. By the time they reach the strand, the ferry is there to pick up the guards. Cullen picks a good leaning spot at the foot of the cliff in the shade and relaxes such as he can in uniform. He watches the flat boat get smaller across deep blue sparkling waves. Thank the Maker the weather stayed on their side.

The guards go on their way first and Dorian watches them with a sick sense of dread. He makes a face at the ocean before he turns away. He spots Cullen leaning against a cliff and goes over to him.

"Do me a favor, knock me unconscious for the ride over," he says with a groan. "I do not want to deal with the waves."

Honestly, he would rather face the spiders again.

"I truly never thought I'd meet anyone who gets more seasick than I," he says. He's not unsympathetic. It's a wretched feeling, the queasy up and down, never able to find an equilibrium point. The sliding nausea.

"No tips or tricks ever offered me have worked, or I'd share one now." He tips his head slightly as he considers something, biting his lower lip uncertainly.

"There is one thing I can do. It would have you largely insensate for the voyage. I'm just not sure how you'll take it, and I'm doubly not sure what the other mages will think. You'd have to tell them you requested it of me."

"If it involves taking away my magic I want nothing to do with it," Dorian says immediately and firmly. He will take his rolling stomach and possibly throwing up over the side of the boat over the loss of something so vital to him. "I appreciate the thought but I simply need some ginger and sparkling water when we return."

There would be no wine for him tonight if his stomach had any say about it. Dorian sighs. "You should try it. Ginger is well known to help the stomach in Tevinter. Or is it rare around here?"

Cullen nods first, then shakes his head afterward. "I'm afraid we don't have any of that at the Gallows. You'd be hard pressed to get it in Kirkwall these days at all. We do have mint. It's not bad for stomach troubles, either, especially when taken as a tea." Or they could talk one of the mages into helping him later. They're not completely devoid of healers.

He's relieved in a way that he turned down the offer. He wouldn't be comfortable seeing him reeling from a cleanse. He's not sure how the other templars would have taken it, either. It would have been some rather unconventional justification for what is usually a combat technique.

"Of course not," Dorian sighs. The luxuries he's used to are in very short supply. It isn't like he has the money to pay for them right now either. He longs for the days of easy money if not the suffering of Tevinter society.

He glances over at Cullen, considering him for a moment. "Join me for a cup of tea once we get back?"

"All right," he says without having to take much time to consider it at all. He enjoyed their conversation the night before. The thought of some quiet down time with him back at the Gallows is far from onerous.

"My treat. I have some very decent mint tea. I think you'll enjoy it." It's one of his few indulgences he allows himself to splurge on when he gets the chance. He has a few other herbal teas, too. The mint is some of his favorite.

"We can take it in my antechamber." He almost never uses the sitting room in front of his bedroom. It's well appointed, and he knows they're unlikely to be disturbed.

Apparently, Cullen's not worried about what people will thing. His ease in accepting is nice to hear. Dorian ducks his head and hides his brief short smile.

"You have an antechamber?" He scowls at him like he's jealous. "I'm still sharing quarters with other mages and you have an antechamber. I see how fair the treatment is here."

Dorian huffs for show. A great deal of the mage part of the gallows was destroyed in the fight. It's lucky they have the space they do.

"One of the very few perks of this job," Cullen says, snorting a quiet laugh. "It's a nice one. Very comfortable. Pity I almost never have occasion to use it."

Meredith's old quarters were even nicer. He hasn't been able to bring himself to set foot there since an initial foray to search for documents and anything relevant to the running of the Gallows. It's too depressing and disconcerting. At times he contemplates sealing the rooms off altogether.

"You'll be the first guest I've had in..." How long? Since before Thrask's murder, easily. "Let's hope I recall how to play host."

"There's something comfortable in the Gallows? I'm shocked. I thought the design scheme was depression and chains."

Perhaps it was a bit unfair to Kirkwall but honestly the place was a shit hole. Yet, there were hints of Tevinter architecture everywhere and they made Dorian homesick when he picked them out.

"I'm sure you're manners will be charmingly rustic," he drawls giving Cullen a sympathetic look. "If you make a mistake I'll politely correct you."

He puts on a mock expression of pique. There's a certain set to his mouth that gives him away. He's not as good at bluffing when he's fighting amusement. "I'll try my best not to stir my tea with a serving fork."

He folds his arms in a soft clank of mail and tips his head back against the warm rock face. It's going to be a bit of a wait for the ferry. The sand is too shifty for him to want to try to sit down here. It's also just damp enough it could seep into seams or joints of his armor. Better to stand.

"I think you could say that of the whole city," he says, returning to an earlier point. "It was a major port for slave trade, after all. I'm sure you saw the statues coming into the harbor."

"Kirkwall was originally Emerius, after the Magister who founded it. It supplied jet stone to the Imperium for years before elected the heart of the slave trade after a slave revolt that almost killed Archon Vanarius Issar. Ironically, the city was a major backer for the Imperial Highway which helped Andraste march right in during the revolt."

He pauses and glances over at Cullen with a very small smirk. He doesn't need a reminder of Kirkwall's history. He knows it all. Admittedly only because it's a former Imperial city.

"In the end the city fell in a slave revolt. What is know Hightown was sacked and almost all the signs of Tevinter were destroyed except for those statues. Mostly because of their importance to opening the sea gates. Should I lecture you more? I can even tell you about how it became part of the Free Marches."

"I'm sorry. Were you saying something? Your mouth was moving, and I just drifted off somewhere. We barbarians hate learning things." It's as dry as dry can be. He recalls his history lessons from his days as a recruit. He might not have always managed to be the best student. It wasn't from lack of desire to learn.

His lips purse very slightly, a remnant of amusement. When was the last time he felt so inclined to tease or let his more playful side emerge? It's not something he has felt free to share with those now under his command, and he's quite certain the other mages would either be terrified or annoyed with the thought that perhaps they were expected to laugh.

It's an odd position to be in and somehow, now that he has started down that road, he's not at all inclined to shut it off or redirect it again.

"I was like that in school, actually," Dorian says with a little fond smile. "It drove my teachers mad. So bright and so not dedicated to everything."

He had also been whoring his way through like at that point but he didn't talk about that. He carried enough shame as it was. No need to share that with the world.

"However, your sarcasm is not appreciated."

"Sarcasm? I'm quite certain I'm not sophisticated enough for that, Altass Pavus." He quickly looks off to the side to avoid cracking a smile. It's there, just waiting to emerge in the set of his lips. He's glad no one seems to be paying much attention to them, or he'd be less inclined toward this game at all.

"What was your favorite subject, aside from the different magic disciplines, I mean? Was it history?"

"Maker give me strength not to choke you for your deliberate mispronunciations." Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a slow, soft breath. He's being toyed with and he knows it. He shouldn't get upset. It still irks him.

"History and languages. I speak Orlesian, Antivan and Dwarven along with common," he says when he decides Cullen is worth speaking to again. "I have a mind for those, I suppose. Another thing that drove my teachers mad. I'd be reading one thing in a class on another subject."

It's not often that he's the one getting to someone else. One side of his mouth ticks up. His eyes light with enjoyment. However, he also knows when enough is enough and doesn't keep prodding. There can be a fine line between good natured teasing and outright bullying or browbeating. He doesn't want to cross that line. He likes the man far too much for that.

"I'm impressed. I speak a smattering of Elvish, mostly what I picked up in the Tower from the few Dalish we had there." He doesn't speak enough of it to have a fluent conversation. He merely knows a few words and common phrases.

"We'd never have gotten away with that as recruits." Failure to be disciplined was a one way ticket to home and shame.

"Oh, I didn't get away with it." But that is all he's going to say on his past within Tevinter's circle schools. He does not want to pick at that particular wound today. It's almost pleasant except for the looming boat ride. "It's why I'm not in the military, you see, no discipline, to free thinking, rebellious. Oh, and nobility."

He would make a horrible soldier. Knight-Enchanters were incredibly powerful mages but strict and rather regimented in their thinking. Dorian was quite happy being his rebellious, free thinking self.

"And the armor is horrendous. Look at you, no sense of design and beauty in the armor at all. Just bits of plate struck together."

"Nobility, yes. Don't remind me, or I'll start thinking wretched things." His opinion of most nobles is about as low as his opinion of Orlesians. In his experience they're self-important, mostly useless, and cause more problems than they solve with a very few exceptions. In that respect, Dorian differs. He has been very useful and shown he's not afraid to get his hands dirty.

"Oh, it's much more than that. These bits of plate are custom fit to every templar, minimizing openings for weapons, maximizing mobility. The design is tried and true for what it's meant to do. We're not here to look pretty. We're here to do a job. Our mail keeps us alive for it, and is readily recognizable. That's all it needs to be." For all that he sometimes wishes he didn't have so much weight on him nearly every waking moment, he appreciates his armor. It has saved his life on many occasions, such as with the most recent spider attack. It's hard for him to imagine wandering unarmored. He has been in it for longer than he was without it in his life.

For pavus_redemit Kirkwall

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