[ The entirety of the day seems to drag slower than usual, where Cullen finds himself almost having too much time rather than the usual too little. But even in the abundance of time he has found himself, little has been done. He manages as much as he had promised: a room with clean clothing and linens, a meal prepared and a healer to visit her once she is settled. Anything else beyond that is barely touched, and when he tries he finds himself distracted by thoughts of her. Of the young charge he had ten years ago. ]
[ Cullen hasn't necessarily met his past with peace. There are still many regrets that haunt him in the night, the nightmares of battles he had been in that still plague him and may never cease. But in the passing time, he had found at least a way to deal with them. Now? It seems harder. With the pure symbol of the worst of his deeds standing before him, remembering him better than anyone else here... Will it help? Or will it make things worse. He couldn't say. But what he is certain of is that he is grateful she is alive and well, and just as grateful to work beside her again. ]
[ Even with his inability to get any work done, he still tries, still sits at his desk staring at the dozens of papers scattered before him. The words make little sense at this hour, and the words blur together where he is rendered illiterate and it gives him a headache. Sometimes they fizzle into a language that makes no sense, or appear as puddles of ink on the paper. Other times they all form into her name or shape themselves into a drawing of the Harrowing Chamber door he was imprisoned before. Cullen is left with his face in his hand, elbow at the table keeping him from faceplanting into it. ]
[ It's then that he hears a soft knocking at his door, and Cullen straightens himself. For a moment, he stares at it, not quite registering that someone is there but then finding stress in who it might be when he does. ]
no subject
[ Cullen hasn't necessarily met his past with peace. There are still many regrets that haunt him in the night, the nightmares of battles he had been in that still plague him and may never cease. But in the passing time, he had found at least a way to deal with them. Now? It seems harder. With the pure symbol of the worst of his deeds standing before him, remembering him better than anyone else here... Will it help? Or will it make things worse. He couldn't say. But what he is certain of is that he is grateful she is alive and well, and just as grateful to work beside her again. ]
[ Even with his inability to get any work done, he still tries, still sits at his desk staring at the dozens of papers scattered before him. The words make little sense at this hour, and the words blur together where he is rendered illiterate and it gives him a headache. Sometimes they fizzle into a language that makes no sense, or appear as puddles of ink on the paper. Other times they all form into her name or shape themselves into a drawing of the Harrowing Chamber door he was imprisoned before. Cullen is left with his face in his hand, elbow at the table keeping him from faceplanting into it. ]
[ It's then that he hears a soft knocking at his door, and Cullen straightens himself. For a moment, he stares at it, not quite registering that someone is there but then finding stress in who it might be when he does. ]
Yes?
[ He eventually speaks for his guest to enter. ]