[ Cullen's brow raises, and so does a touch of red to his cheeks and above his nose. That wink may as well be an arrow to his chest, and Cullen clears his throat when he feels the impact of it. ]
You, ah--
[ You do, he wants to say. But there is a distraction in her standing up to close the door. Cullen knows what that means, as far as where their conversation had left off. He finds comfort in that distraction, because his nerves may have threatened to turn ablaze if not for it. ]
[ He is certainly aware of what the Wardens are obligated to accomplish in their lives. To fight, to prevent a Blight from taking their lands as it had so many years ago. It is not unlike what a Templar is employed for, though their cause is not really planted with such a bold expiration date. One could argue that Wardens have it far worse, and Cullen would be inclined to agree. ]
Maker...
[ It doesn't sound like a cheerful existence. Cullen certainly feels gratitude should be given to those who serve the cause, who fight so valiantly. Even if the Grey Wardens have lost their way, he couldn't find himself to further chastise them for having been misled. It is much like the Chantry, and Cullen frowns when he hears of what the Calling truly feels like. ]
That... While I cannot measure the gravity of your suffering, I understand it.
[ This certainly spikes his concern again, and it shows. Cullen has long since lost shame in reaching for Neria's hand, as it has become a gesture they often provide to one another. It is an affection only the two of them share, though the definitions of it have never truly been discussed, and Cullen wouldn't force that they do. Not now, and certainly not when they are at war. ]
Much of the same occurs to one addicted to lyrium who has ceased their dosage. Nightmares, voices, hallucinations that have the potential to taint one's mind for good.
[ Knowing the similarities makes him sick. To know that Neria could be going through it at any moment, even now... Cullen's hand tightens around hers. ]
no subject
You, ah--
[ You do, he wants to say. But there is a distraction in her standing up to close the door. Cullen knows what that means, as far as where their conversation had left off. He finds comfort in that distraction, because his nerves may have threatened to turn ablaze if not for it. ]
[ He is certainly aware of what the Wardens are obligated to accomplish in their lives. To fight, to prevent a Blight from taking their lands as it had so many years ago. It is not unlike what a Templar is employed for, though their cause is not really planted with such a bold expiration date. One could argue that Wardens have it far worse, and Cullen would be inclined to agree. ]
Maker...
[ It doesn't sound like a cheerful existence. Cullen certainly feels gratitude should be given to those who serve the cause, who fight so valiantly. Even if the Grey Wardens have lost their way, he couldn't find himself to further chastise them for having been misled. It is much like the Chantry, and Cullen frowns when he hears of what the Calling truly feels like. ]
That... While I cannot measure the gravity of your suffering, I understand it.
[ This certainly spikes his concern again, and it shows. Cullen has long since lost shame in reaching for Neria's hand, as it has become a gesture they often provide to one another. It is an affection only the two of them share, though the definitions of it have never truly been discussed, and Cullen wouldn't force that they do. Not now, and certainly not when they are at war. ]
Much of the same occurs to one addicted to lyrium who has ceased their dosage. Nightmares, voices, hallucinations that have the potential to taint one's mind for good.
[ Knowing the similarities makes him sick. To know that Neria could be going through it at any moment, even now... Cullen's hand tightens around hers. ]
I'm sorry. For you and for your men.