[ He doesn't move when the door opens, though his gaze shifts to the side. Cullen would quickly turn to defend the mess, but he is far too weary to even attempt such a quick movement. He is dizzy, his head pounding and he hasn't been able to hold down a meal in days. There is an ache in his bones, and when faced with using potions the bitter taste makes him immediately vomit whatever contents lie in his gut. ]

[ He knew the potions and tonics were from Neria, and he appreciated them. Cullen still feels the guilt of not having fully utilized them, for fear she might start to believe he doesn't trust her. But he does, despite the voices that have told him otherwise-- ]

[ Yes, the voices. The voices that have gotten progressively louder during the passage of time. When the little lyrium living within him cries for more and tells him he has failed both the Inquisition and The Order. The very same voices that taunt him for forging a romance with a Mage and tell him he will soon regret this. Cullen has used what little energy he has to fight those thoughts, but they have fought back with plaguing his mind full of nightmares. They remind him of the torture he sat through, and he finds himself thinking more and more about Ferelden's Circle and Kirkwall than he ever has in years. ]

[ There is, however, a slight touch of relief when he hears her comforting voice call his name. But Cullen is far too ashamed to face her, because he is fully aware that she has taken notice of his falling behind in his duties. ]

[ He reaches up to cover his eyes when a cloud leaves the sun, light penetrating the small window he stands before and it burns. ]

Forgive me...

[ Cullen's voice cracks, and he realizes just how parched he is. ]

I'm afraid I can't do this anymore, Neria. I've failed you and the Inquisition, I never meant for this to interfere.