[ Silence falls over them so quickly, lasting the better half of an eternity. Cullen cannot find enough comfort in that, and he is content to simply get lost in her gaze until he draws his final breath. What has been forged between them and what is to come is unknown, unsaid. But it is in Neria's gaze and the way she touches his face so fondly that he can only assume that this doesn't end here. No matter what goes on outside of this room and what is to occur in their near future, there is confidence in this. In what is before them, even as unnamed as it may be. ]
[ Cullen finds himself holding on to her arm, a gentle grasp where his thumb caresses soft skin. Such a contrast to the hardened figure that she maintains, that has seen so much battle and bloodshed. He could only see her as an angel, truly, even with the darkness that follows her and often shrouds her in guilt and despair. What he would do to wash all of that away for her, to give her another chance she so rightfully deserves. Even if she doesn't think so. ]
[ His eyes fall upon her lips, where they remain for some time. What should he do? Should he act upon feelings that have bottled up for so long? Or should he maintain the propriety that he should expect to be held as they are partners in command? It's clear that it is only he who feels this way, judging by the constant prying his fellow advisors and leader have maintained since her arrival. But before he can even act or say another word, Neria lets go and turns back to their work. ]
[ Right. There are more important matters to attend to first. Cullen breaks away, hand immediately retreating to the back of his neck to nurse a nervous tick. ]
Yes. You're right.
[ Letting go of her hand is nearly painful, as if he is tearing his own limb. But they can continue this discussion at a later, unknown date. ]
Alright.
[ The rest of the evening is left for planning and arranging the proper forms of contact needed. They send for messenger birds, ones who will arrive with the plans necessary before their return to Skyhold. The journey itself takes some time, crossing from Crestwood back to the Frostbacks where they will immediately take leave for Halamshiral. It is a slow process, an agonizing journey where tensions are high among all of them. There is no telling as to whether or not Corypheus will truly be there, or what his followers have in store. ]
[ The matter at hand is particularly in regards to Duke Gaspard and Briala, where the tensions of civil war have made taking sides both all too simple and dangerous amongst the other advisors. There are talks, debates on the way to the palace, but they are silenced quickly once they are to pass through the gates. From then on, it is all about playing the Game and playing it right, to which Cullen absolutely dreads. ]
[ He is provided a post, just as the rest of them. With Cullen and Neria having arranged their proper groups just outside of the palace walls. His post is within the ballroom, where he attempts to remain both quiet and appear to be interested in the party. Upon delegation and discussion with the Inquisitor, he awaits both information and command she sees fit to provide. ]
[ Time will move slowly, just as it tends to do in times of stress and eagerness. What feels like hours are merely a few minutes, though it is shocking to see how quickly a crowd of people have decided to circle around him. He feels alone in a sea of strangers, blood boiling as they fawn over him like a caged creature. ]
Good evening. [ He forces a smile and bow to a gentleman approaching him, one out of many. While Cullen can't see behind the shining mask that covers him, he certainly can feel the shit-eating grin that radiates behind it. ]
It certainly is, Commander. [ The gentleman gives a bow, almost too eagerly. ] Now that I have gotten myself both acquainted with the Inquisition and the fine festivities-- You stand out so gallantly in such a marvelous shade of crimson. Far finer than even the décor surrounding us.
[ Cullen shifts his glance away, clearing his throat. ]
I, er--
Thank... You?
[ The gentleman laughs. ] Modest? Surely, you hear compliments such as that often.
[ Cullen can't press against the wall hard enough, especially when a couple gaggling women adjacent to him have to agree. And passionately. ]
I have heard... Enough remarks similar. Mostly just tonight.
no subject
[ Cullen finds himself holding on to her arm, a gentle grasp where his thumb caresses soft skin. Such a contrast to the hardened figure that she maintains, that has seen so much battle and bloodshed. He could only see her as an angel, truly, even with the darkness that follows her and often shrouds her in guilt and despair. What he would do to wash all of that away for her, to give her another chance she so rightfully deserves. Even if she doesn't think so. ]
[ His eyes fall upon her lips, where they remain for some time. What should he do? Should he act upon feelings that have bottled up for so long? Or should he maintain the propriety that he should expect to be held as they are partners in command? It's clear that it is only he who feels this way, judging by the constant prying his fellow advisors and leader have maintained since her arrival. But before he can even act or say another word, Neria lets go and turns back to their work. ]
[ Right. There are more important matters to attend to first. Cullen breaks away, hand immediately retreating to the back of his neck to nurse a nervous tick. ]
Yes. You're right.
[ Letting go of her hand is nearly painful, as if he is tearing his own limb. But they can continue this discussion at a later, unknown date. ]
Alright.
[ The rest of the evening is left for planning and arranging the proper forms of contact needed. They send for messenger birds, ones who will arrive with the plans necessary before their return to Skyhold. The journey itself takes some time, crossing from Crestwood back to the Frostbacks where they will immediately take leave for Halamshiral. It is a slow process, an agonizing journey where tensions are high among all of them. There is no telling as to whether or not Corypheus will truly be there, or what his followers have in store. ]
[ The matter at hand is particularly in regards to Duke Gaspard and Briala, where the tensions of civil war have made taking sides both all too simple and dangerous amongst the other advisors. There are talks, debates on the way to the palace, but they are silenced quickly once they are to pass through the gates. From then on, it is all about playing the Game and playing it right, to which Cullen absolutely dreads. ]
[ He is provided a post, just as the rest of them. With Cullen and Neria having arranged their proper groups just outside of the palace walls. His post is within the ballroom, where he attempts to remain both quiet and appear to be interested in the party. Upon delegation and discussion with the Inquisitor, he awaits both information and command she sees fit to provide. ]
[ Time will move slowly, just as it tends to do in times of stress and eagerness. What feels like hours are merely a few minutes, though it is shocking to see how quickly a crowd of people have decided to circle around him. He feels alone in a sea of strangers, blood boiling as they fawn over him like a caged creature. ]
Good evening. [ He forces a smile and bow to a gentleman approaching him, one out of many. While Cullen can't see behind the shining mask that covers him, he certainly can feel the shit-eating grin that radiates behind it. ]
It certainly is, Commander. [ The gentleman gives a bow, almost too eagerly. ] Now that I have gotten myself both acquainted with the Inquisition and the fine festivities-- You stand out so gallantly in such a marvelous shade of crimson. Far finer than even the décor surrounding us.
[ Cullen shifts his glance away, clearing his throat. ]
I, er--
Thank... You?
[ The gentleman laughs. ] Modest? Surely, you hear compliments such as that often.
[ Cullen can't press against the wall hard enough, especially when a couple gaggling women adjacent to him have to agree. And passionately. ]
I have heard... Enough remarks similar. Mostly just tonight.
[ This party needs to end. Now. ]