[ It's daunting not truly knowing what lies within Neria's mind. But the secrets she holds, no matter what weight they hold, he fears about them not. Cullen wishes to believe his judge of her character has followed through these many years, even if she had willingly exiled herself. But Neria puts a burden upon herself openly, and it is admirable she does so. To know that this is being set aside to forge something new between them is an honor to him. With his gaze meeting hers once more, he leans forward to press an affectionate kiss to her forehead. ]
I am.
[ It is a pact they have made in secrecy, and Cullen is certain the both of them prefer to keep such matters private. So he revels in the gesture he is able to make away from the crowds, prepared to hold back for the long journey ahead. ]
[ But he is just as satisfied to know that they are going to Skyhold, home. And life rages on amidst the remaining chaos that the Inquisition fights. Cullen keeps to himself what they have spoken of, waiting for less exciting times to approach Neria in the passing weeks that follow since their return to Skyhold. There are whispers, and Cullen does not miss the overly approving gazes he receives from certain people. Yet he does not indulge them. What happens between him and Neria is their business only. ]
[ While there may have been a brief spring in his step, however, it is in those passing weeks that the worst of his lyrium withdrawal catches up with him. Despite what comfort he finds in Neria's company, he has managed to go days without sleep. It shows, the color in his face that had once glowed and thrived at the chance to train his troops has paled and lost substance. Tensions return when a recruit takes notice and asks if the Commander has taken ill. Cullen's concerns come to a boil when he snaps, regards the recruit as accusatory of him not being able to handle his position. And it is then that he approaches Cassandra to ask for a replacement. ]
[ Which comes to absolutely no result. Cassandra refuses, leaving Cullen in a position he begins to deem only fit for him. ]
[ He storms through the battlements, dizzy and unwell. His stomach churns and his face feels cold while the flesh beneath it is hot to the touch. How is he to command their army under such conditions? When he has abandoned the cause he cared so much for after all these years? ]
[ Arriving to his office finds no comfort, especially in knowing he has kept a supply of lyrium in a nearby drawer. In a private fit of rage, he has broken the box, tore the drawer off its hinges and scattered papers along the floor. Climbing up the ladder to take rest is impossible, when the first step causes a dizzy spell that nearly makes him fall over. It's frustrating, degrading, and he kicks a small vile of the glowing liquid across the room. ]
[ By the time he is finished, his head is pounding. Cullen finds himself leaning against a wall, head pressed to the cold stone where he only finds some relief. There is silence, though his mind berates him for what he has decided, gaze falling upon the vile on the floor so many times it is burned in his eyes when he closes them. ]
[ Their journey back to Skyhold is uneventful, a relief she indulges. It is difficult to maintain distance from Cullen but their demeanor continues to be professional in the presence of others and she does her best to not take overmuch of his time. But they had been close far before their decision to pursue something and so it is difficult to stop those meetings altogether. And they work closely enough that it isn't as if she does not see him often.
But the weeks of their return begin to sour as Cullen seems to take ill. He pales, seems to tire much more easily, his temper biting. Neria takes it for what it is, as she knows the secret few others do. She leaves him potions and tonics and finds them mostly unused, and she does not take offense. It has been difficult for him since the beginning and she is there to support him.
He disappears one day during drills and Neria picks up the slack, though where he's gone, she hasn't the slightest idea. It is only later that Cassandra approaches her to gently ask for her to go to him, to convince him that he does not need a replacement...
It turns her stomach to know he is asking for one. And a little after the sun sets, she goes to his tower, where the door is closed. She slips inside and is shocked to find the room in disarray, a small vile of lyrium knocked clear into a corner on the opposite end of where she spies Cullen. She leaves it where it is and closes the door behind her so that he might have his privacy, and she goes to his side.
To see him so pale, to see him look so weary, makes her heart turn in her chest. ]
[ 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.
[ When he acknowledges her, Neria immediately seeks his arm, touching it gently with her hand. For a time, she says nothing, assessing him first and foremost. His guilt is a symptom of a very dangerous and physical ailment, the withdrawal wracking his body. She is more concerned that he might get worse, that this is the beginning of a steeper decline, and she fears greatly for him. Her grip is gentle as she squeezes his arm, hoping to provide some kind of relief in the moment. He sounds awful, tired, his voice cracking. ]
There's nothing to forgive. You've done nothing wrong. You haven't failed anyone.
[ The Inquisition is run by vagabonds, outcasts, apostates, nobles, and oddities. They each, in turn, have had their difficulties and trials. Cullen is too hard on himself. She has known this for some time, with every apology he has offered for angry sentiments he expressed in his darkest hour. She never needed to forgive him for what she would have done, too, if they had been in opposite places. ]
You're hurting. The withdrawal...
[ Some nagging voice insists it would be better for him to take a little, to detox slowly. But would it, really, be better? Would he feel any better or would it drive him to take more? He has suffered enough to his esteem and pride in this moment; to suggest he give up would break him.
Instead, she simply remains beside him, and she reaches for his hand with her other one. ]
[ He shakes his head, eyes closed still even when she touches him. There is nothing to forgive because he does not deserve forgiveness. While Cullen takes her hand and holds it tightly, there is pain in his voice and the gaze that finally meets her. ]
I've abandoned my vows, my dedication to years of service and this is my punishment. I deserve no pity, nor do I deserve your kind words. The things I've done, I--
[ When he tries to move from the wall, he nearly stumbles over. The dizziness overcomes him, and an arm reaches for balance against the stone window as his hand holds firmly to hers. ]
I want nothing to do with The Order anymore... To keep myself bound by their chains means I support every corrupted move they have made. But it is in my selfish decision to break away that I discover I've made a mistake.
[ Glassy, bloodshot eyes manage to at least stay with Neria's. But his focus is off, shaken. Staring at her too long causes her appearance to distort, where he fears he might find something horrifying if he doesn't look away. ]
How can I truly give myself to the Inquisition if I cannot remain loyal to the Chantry? What sort of man does it make me that I run away at the sight of disagreement and fear?
[ He looks to the vial in the distance, swallowing thickly. ]
I should be taking it.
[ Once more, he tries to move. Cullen doesn't let go of Neria even when he tries so hard to make his way to that vial. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't... But should he? ]
[ Maker, looking at him is painful. His eyes are bloodshot and he doesn't seem able to maintain focus on her for long. Neria tries her damnedest not to let so much of her concern bubble over, not even as he seems so entirely focused on getting to the bottle he has kicked away. Her hand remains in his, providing whatever comfort and support she can muster. But this... This is something she feared the moment he'd told her he had stopped taking lyrium. ]
You didn't make a mistake. Cullen, you're standing by your convictions.
[ Convictions she supports wholeheartedly. He's crumbling under an incredible weight, both on his conscience and his body, and she is helpless to really aid him. As much as she hates to admit it, this isn't something she can fix.
Her grip over his hand tightens. ]
It takes a very brave man to walk away from something corrupt, something that has destroyed his comrades. You are loyal to those who matter-- Your brethren, the people you support. You want something better for the Templars and the Chantry has proven to care little for you and yours. You're providing an example that there can be freedom from the Chantry, from the lyrium.
You do not need to remain loyal to the Chantry to be loyal to people. You haven't run away. You're taking a stand.
[ Her eyes follow his gaze to the vial in the corner. She bites down on her lip. ]
You can do this without lyrium. I have faith in you.
[ It hurts, everything hurts and he's afraid that one of these days he will not make it out of this. That he will die for a cause that has cared little for him and his comrades. All Cullen wanted to do was serve, to help people, and for what? To be held by a tight leash for an Order that sees fit to off the innocent and their sympathizers? Neria has always been a symbol of all of that, even a beacon. ]
[ She is right. He knows in his heart that she is right that he does this for a greater cause. But to know that he might affect the Inquisition in a negative manner hurts him far more than the pains that wrack him. Yet it isn't just Neria that has faith in him, as Kaia has said much the same. They all support his decision, do not believe that he is causing problems within the cause and he trembles in belief that he does not deserve such valuable friends. When Cullen looks upon Neria and sees such concern and passion in her eyes, he thinks to himself that he hardly deserves her companionship either. ]
[ But she stops him from moving towards the vial, brings him to find balance against the wall again where their hands entangle and latch as they always have. Still, there is hurt in his eyes, and doubt causes him to shake his head. ]
What worth do I have of the Maker to bring you back? I care for you so much, yet I feel I do not deserve your faith and support.
[ Again, he reminds himself that she is right. He does this to make a point, to set an example to others who may feel the same as he has. It is not lost on him that he has found faith in a Mage, but Neria has always been a special woman among others. ]
[ He doesn't need to bring her back or beg for her to stay. Even if she should leave Skyhold, she will always find him again; she will always come back to his side. But this can't be about her. Cullen, for once in his life, needs to understand that his safety and his decisions matter. Kaia cannot support a commander who is dead; Cassandra cannot stand behind someone who is losing his sanity to lyrium addiction. Cullen has been happier, freer, off of the lyrium...even if he is in a great deal more pain now.
Neria twines their fingers together, tries to keep him rooted in the moment. He does not need it. ]
Cassandra believes in you. Your troops have faith in you, even if they do not know what you are going through. Kaia puts her absolute trust in you. You deserve that trust. I will tell you this now, I will tell you this tomorrow, I will tell it to you for the rest of my life if I must. You are important...and you have not let any of us down, least of all me.
[ Carefully, she stands in front of him, still holding his hand. She hopes to block his view of the vial for just a short time so he can look at her and her alone. ]
Stop thinking about us. What do you want, Cullen? Your wishes matter.
Tell me what you want to do, not what you're supposed to do.
[ I'm not going anywhere. Those words hit him deeply, echo in his mind and stay there and it puts his mind at ease. Any kind of relief is held onto and so are each and every word that falls from her lips. His surroundings seem so... Distant, untouchable, yet he finds some form of support and realness in Neria's touch. Eventually, he finds himself able to focus on her and only her, where Cullen allows himself to get lost in her gaze and her kind words. ]
[ The Inquisition depends on him, the Inquisitor depends on him and there are so many that carry faith in him. Their trust means the world to him, and it pains him to think he could even partially let them down. But Neria speaks otherwise, and Cullen has always held her opinion as high as his arms could possibly reach. ]
[ If he turns back to lyrium, he backs down on everything he stands for. He shows those around him that he can't follow through with his own goals, and that is not an option. No matter how much pain he is in, no matter how horrible the nightmares and the hallucinations have been, he has a point to make. And he wishes to be as far away from the things The Order has done as humanly possible. ]
[ For a moment, Cullen is silent, just taking time to look directly at Neria. The pain in his gaze is still there, but overtime it strengthens. Cullen's brow furrows, serious painting his features as he squeezes her hands. ]
I want to keep going.
[ To do otherwise would be to do him and everyone else a disservice. ]
I will persevere until these binds have truly been broken.
[ If he were to decide to return to lyrium, even if it pained her, she would try to support his decision and try to convince him to taper off with his doses. And Neria certainly steels herself for him to insist that he still should be taking it, or for him to ask for her to make a decision for him...and she is wholly glad that he is able to verbalize what it is he wants. Cullen's opinion matters greatly to her and she wants to give him every ounce of freedom he deserves but will not take for himself.
Neria gives his hands a gentle squeeze. ]
Then continue fighting. You don't need the lyrium. You have us, you have the Inquisition. Let us help you fight this. You aren't alone.
[ She releases him only long enough to go and collect the vial, holding it tightly in her hand. The impulse to crush it or set it alight is strong, terribly so, but for her to so brazenly use magic... No, not here. Instead, she turns back to Cullen and reaches for his hand again. ]
[ The loss of her hands are immediately lamented, but give freedom to his where he takes a moment to rub at his forehead. Cullen takes refuge against the wall once more, and his eyes meet with the vial that Neria takes from the floor. Even with him voicing what he wants, the way his mouth seems to dry even more at the sight of the lyrium so close makes him wish he'd decided otherwise. But he will stand his ground, and with Neria and his friends by his side? It's a reachable goal. ]
[ He quickly looks away before he changes his mind, waving dismissively at it. The other is taken by Neria, where he instinctively squeezes it as the realization of ridding himself completely hits him. ]
There are soldiers here who have left a life as a Templar behind that might need it. We have a reserve of lyrium for them.
[ Closing her hand around the vial, she slips it into her belt, out of sight. Neria doesn't want to leave him, but getting this away from Cullen will be best for the moment. He looks weary, more fatigued than she's ever seen him. How often has he slept? She knows he has been skipping a few meals and that, of course, will not help him in any capacity. But what else can he truly do when the withdrawal is ravaging his mind and body from the inside out?
He is very, very brave to her. Neria has nothing but admiration for what he's done, tinged with worry. Whatever she can do for him, she will. ]
I'm going to take care of this...and then I will return. Do you want to sit for a time? Can I get you anything while I'm out?
[ Truly, he values what he has with Neria. It has been an absolute challenge to make face among the Inquisition and their troops, and he regrets the slip-ups he has had since. It's why he's begged Cassandra to find a replacement, but such a resolution apparently is unreachable. There is shame in that, guilt in knowing that he is certain he will falter in some way if this is to get worse. Can it get worse? Surely, the voices in his head getting louder and the tremors that wrack him at inopportune times could be considered the absolute worst in his progression. ]
[ At the very least, he has Neria, who seems to admire his efforts rather than outright pity him in the process. It's easier to let his walls down, to show weakness despite the continuing effort not to. ]
[ He makes his way to his desk, leaning against it with his hands pressed to the surface. Cullen looks down to what little papers are left upon it and shakes his head. ]
I'll be alright.
[ There's still much to do and little time to do it. Cullen has full intentions on picking up after himself and going back to work as soon as she leaves, and he knows better than to tell her in this state. ]
Thank you, my lady. Words cannot express what your support means to me.
[ He will be alright going forward, perhaps, but for now... She still worries and it shows in the way her eyes follow him as he moves towards his desk. He does not seek to sit and she fears he will not truly rest when he should. He's as stubborn as she is, an admirable but frustrating quality. She starts to protest that he should at least make an attempt to sit and rest his head, or to try to sleep, but thinks better of it. If anything, Neria's voice should not take up criticism against him, not now. Whatever his choice, she wants to support it.
...That does not mean, of course, that she won't do her damnedest to sway him otherwise. At least when it comes to his health.
Crossing to him once more, she rests a hand briefly on his shoulder. ]
I'm here for you, no matter what.
[ She gives him a small smile as she goes to the door and slips out, bottle safely tucked away where no one will see. Neria is quick to dispose of it without any fanfare, and then she makes a point of stopping by the kitchens for a few things. It takes half an hour but she does, at last, return with a tray, and she is hardly surprised to see that almost all of Cullen's disarray has been picked up and fixed, even as she takes the tray to his desk. ]
Maker's breath-- Cullen, you could use some rest, you know.
[ He expected that, anticipated to be at least partially berated by someone for continuously working despite his condition. It isn't the first, nor the last time anyone will ever insist that he take a break. But how can he sleep? Knowing that there is so much to do and so little time, that the Inquisition depends on him, there is no way that he could even attempt to relax enough to catch a few hours. Especially not with the nightmares that he knows will follow. ]
[ His eyes meet with the tray first, the smell of food gracing his nose and his stomach grumbles. Partly from hunger and partly for the nausea that follows it. But the gesture does not go unnoticed by Cullen, and he at least manages a brief, weak smile to know that Neria is continuing to be so thoughtful and doting. But it is quick to fade when she speaks. ]
You know I can't do that, Neria.
[ He stands up straight, managing to do so without wobbling back and forth, which is a feat. ]
If Cassandra refuses to find me a replacement, what else am I to do? Just allow this work to go undone? My decision will not interfere with our progress, I refuse.
[ Cullen sighs, and he holds his hand out to affectionately brush Neria's arm. ]
[ Simple broth from the kitchen and bread to start, especially if he isn't feeling well. But she's brought some of her herbs, cold and hot water both, which she immediately sets to work on making him tea. It's no potion or tonic, but there's enough there to probably help some of the inevitable headache. ]
I do think that, given the circumstances, Cassandra would be understanding of you taking a few hours to gather yourself. And I'm just as capable of writing reports. I work with your men too. I could take the helm for a few hours.
[ She gives him a crooked smile, worn at the edges with concern. She can't force him to sleep and there's no guarantee that he'll be so blessed to find some. That, she knows. But even a small bit of help can't hurt, not when he's been run as ragged as he has.
Neria reaches up to cover his hand with hers. ]
Or you can sit here with me and we can do it together.
[ It's high time she take on more of the brunt work. She cannot solely be a commander in the field; if she is to be a part of this Inquisition, she should be taking her fair share of the weight. ]
[ She's right. Maker knows she's right, but he can't pinpoint a time in his life where he has truly taken a break. His comrades are constantly trying to pry him away from work. Whether it be for a game of Wicked Grace or a simple walk in the gardens, or just time for dinner, Cullen knows he is constantly urging others that he has a thousand things to do. But it's different now, especially with what little lyrium remaining inside of him is practically sucking the life out of him. There's an internal struggle going on inside of him where the lyrium is trying so hard to remain, and it's taking everything in his power to persevere. ]
[ But... Neria is right. Cassandra sees no reason to replace him, but she's also one of the many to suggest he take some time to himself. And Cassandra is just as much of a workaholic as he. ]
[ Cullen sighs, his gaze falling upon her hand that delicately drapes over his own. He gently squeezes her arm, thumb rolling in a lazy circle against it affectionately. He hates to make her worry, and he can see the concern in her gaze and hear it in her voice. While Cullen isn't eager to take any sort of time off, knowing that it will ease Neria's mind makes it seem... Necessary. ]
[ It makes sense that they are to share their work. Cullen has been perfectly happy handling the bulk of it, but Neria's expertise is just as valuable as his. ]
Alright.
[ For her, he caves. If only a little. ]
While I'm not completely bowing out, I suppose I see no problem in us sharing the work. You are just as much the rightful Commander as I am.
[ His free hand reaches up to slide fingers through his hair, feeling a piece coming over his brow that he works to move away. ]
I'll... Take a few minutes first. It couldn't hurt.
[ It's difficult to see him so worn. It takes her back to another time, another place, when he told her of the horrors he had seen while trapped in his bewitched prison. He is infinitely safer here among friends and allies, people who look up to him and respect him. The pressure is immense, that she cannot deny, but she has every hope that he also takes confidence from those who have faith in him.
She smiles slightly at his admission, letting go only so she can find a chair for herself. She's spent enough time up here with him that there's one in the far corner for her to procure and bring back to the desk, though she also hesitates to rush him.
Instead, she focuses on what she's brought. ]
There's tea, some broth from the kitchen, and bread. I brought some herbs for the tea, something that should relieve your headache for a time.
[ No magic, not unless he allows. She pours herself a cup of tea, not wanting Cullen to feel uncomfortable eating or drinking alone. Maker knows she'd feel on the spot if it were her. Neria sits, giving him a long glance over. ]
[ Cullen has since brought chairs into his office, given that he and Neria often have had nightly meetings that last quite some time. While he isn't one to sit while he accomplishes all of his work, standing for hours on end makes the muscles tense and cramp. During times like this, it is especially worse, and at the very least, he takes a seat. ]
[ It's with great reluctance that he accepts the broth, tea, and bread. But it is for Neria's sake that he does so, not wanting to reject such a kind gesture from her and risk insulting. Truthfully, holding down food has been as much of a challenge as sleeping, where it is painful and difficult enough that it flat out hasn't happened in days. He's truly in a concerning state, weakened without food or rest. When Cullen sinks into his chair, he's certain he won't be able to get out of it for some time. But there is ease on his bones when he gives in. ]
Thank you...
[ Staring at the food is... Daunting. He's afraid to eat, really. So he goes for the tea first, finding some relief in the warm liquid to his parched throat. He sets his cup down, then leans back into his chair. ]
I suppose I would do well to be honest.
[ Hiding it won't do any good, especially when he knows well that Neria can see how this plagues him. She knows him well enough, and obviously cares. To lie would be to think little of her feelings. ]
I've had an ongoing migraine for the last four days. Whether or not that is from being unable to hold down food or get some rest, or just a symptom I cannot be certain.
My bones and muscles ache and burn, yet I feel cold as if I've been frostbitten. And there are times my heart beats nearly out of my chest.
[ Neria sits back in her chair and sips briefly on the tea she has poured for herself, and she gives him a sympathetic look. She can't help the small smile that's there at his joke, even as she scoots her chair over to be closer to him. ]
If today is "not so good", I'm afraid to ask what a terrible day might look like for you.
[ Gloves removed, she reaches for him, lifting a hand to gently touch his forehead. ]
Those can certainly both be symptoms and effects, and they're feeding into one another to make you feel terrible. And you're warm...but that's probably a symptom of the withdrawal.
[ Her hand drifts down to linger at his cheek a moment before withdrawing, though she stays close for whatever he might need. Neria's gaze searches his face but she does not push, not when he is making every accommodation to help himself in front of her. She cannot imagine what he is going through right now, and her hand finds his once more. ]
And you've continued to fight through this for days without a word. I don't know if I could call that stubbornness or dedication.
[ She shakes her head. ]
Possibly both, truth be told.
[ Would she have done any less? More likely, no, and so she cannot truly judge or berate him. They are much alike in that regard. Neria squeezes his hand, eyes meeting his once more. ]
You don't need to eat if it doesn't suit you. I brought it in case you might like to try. You can go at your own pace. I'll be right here, just the same.
My burden does not belong on the shoulders of anyone else but my own.
[ Cullen states that very matter-of-factly as he takes another sip of his tea. It's soothing enough, where the burn in his throat begins to subside and he can relax a little in his chair. For the time being, his work is set aside successfully. Cullen isn't sure he could even lean forward to take care of it if he tried at this point. His eyes close when she touches his forehead, open when they drift to his cheek and his gaze meets hers. ]
While I appreciate your concerns, I don't wish for this to interfere with our progress. I know you've said it won't, but I have remained silent for everyone's sake.
You're the first I've really indulged with details of my pain.
[ He's almost ashamed to say so. When he sets down his cup once again, their hands become intertwined once more, and Cullen finds comfort when their knees touch once she's scooted closer. He finds himself getting lost in their hands again, content to watch his thumbs roll over her knuckles and fingers. ]
I will eat... Eventually. Before you leave, I promise I will have at least made an attempt.
I don't wish for you to see me struggle. It pains me to sit before you a weakened mess.
[ Neria begins to see some of the tension leak out of his shoulders, though progress is understandably slow. She still occasionally uses lyrium in battle but only during emergencies, and the sickly burn in her stomach is always a deterrent later. To have taken it for years, to have been effectively chained to it, is something else entirely. It comforts her to know he is able to relax even a little now, that the worst of his pain has passed...for now.
Her fingers grasp his, digits running briefly over his palm. ]
Weeks ago, you said that my troubles were yours. That my pain was yours as well, as my partner and comrade.
[ As something more. She looks up at him. ]
I do not find your position any more shameful than my own, Cullen. Your troubles may not belong upon my shoulders but I would welcome them just the same.
[ Her hand turns his over, her fingers wresting over his wrist and pulse point. ]
Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure. What you have created, no one can tear asunder.
[ He did say that, didn't he? Strange how he finds it perfectly okay to accept the burdens of others, yet shies away from sharing his own. Cullen feels embarrassment at that, to know that Neria is just as willing as he, yet his stubbornness has brought him to this. To a point of appearing sickly and in pain yet trying so hard to keep face when it's so clearly failing. ]
[ Cullen's gaze meets hers, his expression speaking volumes of how much her acceptance means to him. He revels in the feeling of her fingers drifting so carefully along his palm, and it brings a warmth that his chilled flesh welcomes. ]
[ Before he can say anything in return, she moves his hands, lets her palms move over until fingertips touch his wrists. The gesture is soothing enough, but almost pales in comparison to the canticle that falls from her lips. Cullen's attention never leaves her, and there is a look of awe that colors him when she begins to deliver her prayer. Words that touch him deep and leave his stomach fluttering and his heart skipping a beat. A feeling as if he's taken a leap, the inside of him bottoming out and leaving his skin to prickle. Cullen feels warm, as he always does when he prays. Despite what The Chantry has done, never will he desert his faith. It is clear that Neria knows as much, and he is flattered at the gesture. ]
[ Cullen swallows thickly, his face coloring a touch of red before he eventually bows his head and lets her finish. He hangs on every word, commits the sound of her voice breathing such beautiful words. While his bones and muscles are weary and aching, he finds a relieving comfort out of this. And her words ring true, the Chant of Light rings true, as always. He will endure this, as he has endured many hardships before. He nods in acknowledgment to the prayer, a hum of comfort. Cullen's fingers curl under her wrists, caress her skin as he allows his forehead to press against hers. ]
Thank you...
[ His eyes shut, and he finally manages a smile. ]
You're--
[ Weakly, he chuckles. ]
Whatever I have done to deserve your presence by my side... I pledge to continue doing so. I'm not sure where I would be without your unwavering support. Truly, I am not worthy.
[ Faith has been a tenuous thing for Neria for so many years. She prays in her own way, alone, because her prayers are shameful cries in her weakness and anger. Why does the Maker create mages if it means they will be locked away, their rights taken away, never to know freedom again? Why is she a monster when so many others are not, despite the things they do, and in the name of the Maker Himself?
But she does not fault others for having faith. Her frustrations with it, with the unknown plan there is for her, the sadness she feels regarding her own station should not affect others...least of all Cullen, someone she cares for. If his faith is what inspires confidence, who is she to take it away?
Like him, though, she knows the Chant of Light. She knows it forwards and backwards, too many days spent in the secluded area of the small rectory within the Circle listening to prayers with a book in her lap. There is comfort in faith, comfort in such a familiar thing for the both of them. She falls back into it from time to time, craving that familiarity and comfort. It offers a brief balm for her conscience. Better still, it seems to soothe his worry, and she leans into the tender press of his forehead. ]
I'm just a person, Cullen. You deserve kindness and friendship and solace just as anyone else. I'm only glad I can offer it to you, even if for a brief time. I care for you.
[ She opens her eyes to look up into his face. ]
I can't prevent you from hurting but I can certainly worry over what might happen to you.
[ Even in the presence of betrayal and corruption, Cullen's faith has not wavered. If this is a challenge the Maker sees fit to place upon his people, then so be it. Cullen will stand strong and remain loyal to the cause he grew up believing in. Not the destructive tendencies that The Order maintains now. He will make an example of himself, as an ex-Templar, to overcome this trial and come out of it a new man. Knowing that Neria will be there to witness it and support him makes all the difference, and somehow this doesn't seem so hard anymore. ]
[ He shakes his head at her remark, however, and his hands reach up to gently cup both sides of her face. ]
You are so much more than a mere person to me.
[ She has been his beacon, his pillar of support, and he is certain this would not be possible without her. Cullen owes more than just his life to this woman, this woman who is unlike any other he has ever met or ever will meet. This woman who he carries an undeniable torch for, who understands him better than most ever will. ]
Neria, I...
[ There is so much more than just care here. Cullen's heart always paces around her, skips a beat when she merely looks his way. She is kind, intelligent, beautiful, and it is on understandable that he has grown far beyond just attached to her. ]
[ Despite his pain, and despite the discomfort he is surely to be in for days to come, Cullen has faith. In her, in the Maker, and certainly in himself. It is in that spike of confidence that he kisses her without another word. Though passion moves his body, the kiss is gentle and cautious, much like the one they had shared in Halamshiral. And it is in this moment that he realizes how much he's missed such a shared gesture with her. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
I am.
[ It is a pact they have made in secrecy, and Cullen is certain the both of them prefer to keep such matters private. So he revels in the gesture he is able to make away from the crowds, prepared to hold back for the long journey ahead. ]
[ But he is just as satisfied to know that they are going to Skyhold, home. And life rages on amidst the remaining chaos that the Inquisition fights. Cullen keeps to himself what they have spoken of, waiting for less exciting times to approach Neria in the passing weeks that follow since their return to Skyhold. There are whispers, and Cullen does not miss the overly approving gazes he receives from certain people. Yet he does not indulge them. What happens between him and Neria is their business only. ]
[ While there may have been a brief spring in his step, however, it is in those passing weeks that the worst of his lyrium withdrawal catches up with him. Despite what comfort he finds in Neria's company, he has managed to go days without sleep. It shows, the color in his face that had once glowed and thrived at the chance to train his troops has paled and lost substance. Tensions return when a recruit takes notice and asks if the Commander has taken ill. Cullen's concerns come to a boil when he snaps, regards the recruit as accusatory of him not being able to handle his position. And it is then that he approaches Cassandra to ask for a replacement. ]
[ Which comes to absolutely no result. Cassandra refuses, leaving Cullen in a position he begins to deem only fit for him. ]
[ He storms through the battlements, dizzy and unwell. His stomach churns and his face feels cold while the flesh beneath it is hot to the touch. How is he to command their army under such conditions? When he has abandoned the cause he cared so much for after all these years? ]
[ Arriving to his office finds no comfort, especially in knowing he has kept a supply of lyrium in a nearby drawer. In a private fit of rage, he has broken the box, tore the drawer off its hinges and scattered papers along the floor. Climbing up the ladder to take rest is impossible, when the first step causes a dizzy spell that nearly makes him fall over. It's frustrating, degrading, and he kicks a small vile of the glowing liquid across the room. ]
[ By the time he is finished, his head is pounding. Cullen finds himself leaning against a wall, head pressed to the cold stone where he only finds some relief. There is silence, though his mind berates him for what he has decided, gaze falling upon the vile on the floor so many times it is burned in his eyes when he closes them. ]
no subject
But the weeks of their return begin to sour as Cullen seems to take ill. He pales, seems to tire much more easily, his temper biting. Neria takes it for what it is, as she knows the secret few others do. She leaves him potions and tonics and finds them mostly unused, and she does not take offense. It has been difficult for him since the beginning and she is there to support him.
He disappears one day during drills and Neria picks up the slack, though where he's gone, she hasn't the slightest idea. It is only later that Cassandra approaches her to gently ask for her to go to him, to convince him that he does not need a replacement...
It turns her stomach to know he is asking for one. And a little after the sun sets, she goes to his tower, where the door is closed. She slips inside and is shocked to find the room in disarray, a small vile of lyrium knocked clear into a corner on the opposite end of where she spies Cullen. She leaves it where it is and closes the door behind her so that he might have his privacy, and she goes to his side.
To see him so pale, to see him look so weary, makes her heart turn in her chest. ]
Cullen?
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
There's nothing to forgive. You've done nothing wrong. You haven't failed anyone.
[ The Inquisition is run by vagabonds, outcasts, apostates, nobles, and oddities. They each, in turn, have had their difficulties and trials. Cullen is too hard on himself. She has known this for some time, with every apology he has offered for angry sentiments he expressed in his darkest hour. She never needed to forgive him for what she would have done, too, if they had been in opposite places. ]
You're hurting. The withdrawal...
[ Some nagging voice insists it would be better for him to take a little, to detox slowly. But would it, really, be better? Would he feel any better or would it drive him to take more? He has suffered enough to his esteem and pride in this moment; to suggest he give up would break him.
Instead, she simply remains beside him, and she reaches for his hand with her other one. ]
I'm here.
no subject
I've abandoned my vows, my dedication to years of service and this is my punishment. I deserve no pity, nor do I deserve your kind words. The things I've done, I--
[ When he tries to move from the wall, he nearly stumbles over. The dizziness overcomes him, and an arm reaches for balance against the stone window as his hand holds firmly to hers. ]
I want nothing to do with The Order anymore... To keep myself bound by their chains means I support every corrupted move they have made. But it is in my selfish decision to break away that I discover I've made a mistake.
[ Glassy, bloodshot eyes manage to at least stay with Neria's. But his focus is off, shaken. Staring at her too long causes her appearance to distort, where he fears he might find something horrifying if he doesn't look away. ]
How can I truly give myself to the Inquisition if I cannot remain loyal to the Chantry? What sort of man does it make me that I run away at the sight of disagreement and fear?
[ He looks to the vial in the distance, swallowing thickly. ]
I should be taking it.
[ Once more, he tries to move. Cullen doesn't let go of Neria even when he tries so hard to make his way to that vial. He shouldn't, he really shouldn't... But should he? ]
no subject
You didn't make a mistake. Cullen, you're standing by your convictions.
[ Convictions she supports wholeheartedly. He's crumbling under an incredible weight, both on his conscience and his body, and she is helpless to really aid him. As much as she hates to admit it, this isn't something she can fix.
Her grip over his hand tightens. ]
It takes a very brave man to walk away from something corrupt, something that has destroyed his comrades. You are loyal to those who matter-- Your brethren, the people you support. You want something better for the Templars and the Chantry has proven to care little for you and yours. You're providing an example that there can be freedom from the Chantry, from the lyrium.
You do not need to remain loyal to the Chantry to be loyal to people. You haven't run away. You're taking a stand.
[ Her eyes follow his gaze to the vial in the corner. She bites down on her lip. ]
You can do this without lyrium. I have faith in you.
no subject
[ She is right. He knows in his heart that she is right that he does this for a greater cause. But to know that he might affect the Inquisition in a negative manner hurts him far more than the pains that wrack him. Yet it isn't just Neria that has faith in him, as Kaia has said much the same. They all support his decision, do not believe that he is causing problems within the cause and he trembles in belief that he does not deserve such valuable friends. When Cullen looks upon Neria and sees such concern and passion in her eyes, he thinks to himself that he hardly deserves her companionship either. ]
[ But she stops him from moving towards the vial, brings him to find balance against the wall again where their hands entangle and latch as they always have. Still, there is hurt in his eyes, and doubt causes him to shake his head. ]
What worth do I have of the Maker to bring you back? I care for you so much, yet I feel I do not deserve your faith and support.
[ Again, he reminds himself that she is right. He does this to make a point, to set an example to others who may feel the same as he has. It is not lost on him that he has found faith in a Mage, but Neria has always been a special woman among others. ]
no subject
[ He doesn't need to bring her back or beg for her to stay. Even if she should leave Skyhold, she will always find him again; she will always come back to his side. But this can't be about her. Cullen, for once in his life, needs to understand that his safety and his decisions matter. Kaia cannot support a commander who is dead; Cassandra cannot stand behind someone who is losing his sanity to lyrium addiction. Cullen has been happier, freer, off of the lyrium...even if he is in a great deal more pain now.
Neria twines their fingers together, tries to keep him rooted in the moment. He does not need it. ]
Cassandra believes in you. Your troops have faith in you, even if they do not know what you are going through. Kaia puts her absolute trust in you. You deserve that trust. I will tell you this now, I will tell you this tomorrow, I will tell it to you for the rest of my life if I must. You are important...and you have not let any of us down, least of all me.
[ Carefully, she stands in front of him, still holding his hand. She hopes to block his view of the vial for just a short time so he can look at her and her alone. ]
Stop thinking about us. What do you want, Cullen? Your wishes matter.
Tell me what you want to do, not what you're supposed to do.
no subject
[ The Inquisition depends on him, the Inquisitor depends on him and there are so many that carry faith in him. Their trust means the world to him, and it pains him to think he could even partially let them down. But Neria speaks otherwise, and Cullen has always held her opinion as high as his arms could possibly reach. ]
[ If he turns back to lyrium, he backs down on everything he stands for. He shows those around him that he can't follow through with his own goals, and that is not an option. No matter how much pain he is in, no matter how horrible the nightmares and the hallucinations have been, he has a point to make. And he wishes to be as far away from the things The Order has done as humanly possible. ]
[ For a moment, Cullen is silent, just taking time to look directly at Neria. The pain in his gaze is still there, but overtime it strengthens. Cullen's brow furrows, serious painting his features as he squeezes her hands. ]
I want to keep going.
[ To do otherwise would be to do him and everyone else a disservice. ]
I will persevere until these binds have truly been broken.
no subject
Neria gives his hands a gentle squeeze. ]
Then continue fighting. You don't need the lyrium. You have us, you have the Inquisition. Let us help you fight this. You aren't alone.
[ She releases him only long enough to go and collect the vial, holding it tightly in her hand. The impulse to crush it or set it alight is strong, terribly so, but for her to so brazenly use magic... No, not here. Instead, she turns back to Cullen and reaches for his hand again. ]
How do you want me to dispose of this?
no subject
[ He quickly looks away before he changes his mind, waving dismissively at it. The other is taken by Neria, where he instinctively squeezes it as the realization of ridding himself completely hits him. ]
There are soldiers here who have left a life as a Templar behind that might need it. We have a reserve of lyrium for them.
It... It can go there.
no subject
He is very, very brave to her. Neria has nothing but admiration for what he's done, tinged with worry. Whatever she can do for him, she will. ]
I'm going to take care of this...and then I will return. Do you want to sit for a time? Can I get you anything while I'm out?
no subject
[ At the very least, he has Neria, who seems to admire his efforts rather than outright pity him in the process. It's easier to let his walls down, to show weakness despite the continuing effort not to. ]
[ He makes his way to his desk, leaning against it with his hands pressed to the surface. Cullen looks down to what little papers are left upon it and shakes his head. ]
I'll be alright.
[ There's still much to do and little time to do it. Cullen has full intentions on picking up after himself and going back to work as soon as she leaves, and he knows better than to tell her in this state. ]
Thank you, my lady. Words cannot express what your support means to me.
no subject
...That does not mean, of course, that she won't do her damnedest to sway him otherwise. At least when it comes to his health.
Crossing to him once more, she rests a hand briefly on his shoulder. ]
I'm here for you, no matter what.
[ She gives him a small smile as she goes to the door and slips out, bottle safely tucked away where no one will see. Neria is quick to dispose of it without any fanfare, and then she makes a point of stopping by the kitchens for a few things. It takes half an hour but she does, at last, return with a tray, and she is hardly surprised to see that almost all of Cullen's disarray has been picked up and fixed, even as she takes the tray to his desk. ]
Maker's breath-- Cullen, you could use some rest, you know.
no subject
[ His eyes meet with the tray first, the smell of food gracing his nose and his stomach grumbles. Partly from hunger and partly for the nausea that follows it. But the gesture does not go unnoticed by Cullen, and he at least manages a brief, weak smile to know that Neria is continuing to be so thoughtful and doting. But it is quick to fade when she speaks. ]
You know I can't do that, Neria.
[ He stands up straight, managing to do so without wobbling back and forth, which is a feat. ]
If Cassandra refuses to find me a replacement, what else am I to do? Just allow this work to go undone? My decision will not interfere with our progress, I refuse.
[ Cullen sighs, and he holds his hand out to affectionately brush Neria's arm. ]
I told you, I will be fine.
no subject
I do think that, given the circumstances, Cassandra would be understanding of you taking a few hours to gather yourself. And I'm just as capable of writing reports. I work with your men too. I could take the helm for a few hours.
[ She gives him a crooked smile, worn at the edges with concern. She can't force him to sleep and there's no guarantee that he'll be so blessed to find some. That, she knows. But even a small bit of help can't hurt, not when he's been run as ragged as he has.
Neria reaches up to cover his hand with hers. ]
Or you can sit here with me and we can do it together.
[ It's high time she take on more of the brunt work. She cannot solely be a commander in the field; if she is to be a part of this Inquisition, she should be taking her fair share of the weight. ]
We are partners, after all, no?
no subject
[ But... Neria is right. Cassandra sees no reason to replace him, but she's also one of the many to suggest he take some time to himself. And Cassandra is just as much of a workaholic as he. ]
[ Cullen sighs, his gaze falling upon her hand that delicately drapes over his own. He gently squeezes her arm, thumb rolling in a lazy circle against it affectionately. He hates to make her worry, and he can see the concern in her gaze and hear it in her voice. While Cullen isn't eager to take any sort of time off, knowing that it will ease Neria's mind makes it seem... Necessary. ]
[ It makes sense that they are to share their work. Cullen has been perfectly happy handling the bulk of it, but Neria's expertise is just as valuable as his. ]
Alright.
[ For her, he caves. If only a little. ]
While I'm not completely bowing out, I suppose I see no problem in us sharing the work. You are just as much the rightful Commander as I am.
[ His free hand reaches up to slide fingers through his hair, feeling a piece coming over his brow that he works to move away. ]
I'll... Take a few minutes first. It couldn't hurt.
no subject
She smiles slightly at his admission, letting go only so she can find a chair for herself. She's spent enough time up here with him that there's one in the far corner for her to procure and bring back to the desk, though she also hesitates to rush him.
Instead, she focuses on what she's brought. ]
There's tea, some broth from the kitchen, and bread. I brought some herbs for the tea, something that should relieve your headache for a time.
[ No magic, not unless he allows. She pours herself a cup of tea, not wanting Cullen to feel uncomfortable eating or drinking alone. Maker knows she'd feel on the spot if it were her. Neria sits, giving him a long glance over. ]
How are you feeling?
no subject
[ It's with great reluctance that he accepts the broth, tea, and bread. But it is for Neria's sake that he does so, not wanting to reject such a kind gesture from her and risk insulting. Truthfully, holding down food has been as much of a challenge as sleeping, where it is painful and difficult enough that it flat out hasn't happened in days. He's truly in a concerning state, weakened without food or rest. When Cullen sinks into his chair, he's certain he won't be able to get out of it for some time. But there is ease on his bones when he gives in. ]
Thank you...
[ Staring at the food is... Daunting. He's afraid to eat, really. So he goes for the tea first, finding some relief in the warm liquid to his parched throat. He sets his cup down, then leans back into his chair. ]
I suppose I would do well to be honest.
[ Hiding it won't do any good, especially when he knows well that Neria can see how this plagues him. She knows him well enough, and obviously cares. To lie would be to think little of her feelings. ]
I've had an ongoing migraine for the last four days. Whether or not that is from being unable to hold down food or get some rest, or just a symptom I cannot be certain.
My bones and muscles ache and burn, yet I feel cold as if I've been frostbitten. And there are times my heart beats nearly out of my chest.
So...
[ With a forced, crooked smile, Cullen laughs. ]
I would think that qualifies as "not so good".
no subject
If today is "not so good", I'm afraid to ask what a terrible day might look like for you.
[ Gloves removed, she reaches for him, lifting a hand to gently touch his forehead. ]
Those can certainly both be symptoms and effects, and they're feeding into one another to make you feel terrible. And you're warm...but that's probably a symptom of the withdrawal.
[ Her hand drifts down to linger at his cheek a moment before withdrawing, though she stays close for whatever he might need. Neria's gaze searches his face but she does not push, not when he is making every accommodation to help himself in front of her. She cannot imagine what he is going through right now, and her hand finds his once more. ]
And you've continued to fight through this for days without a word. I don't know if I could call that stubbornness or dedication.
[ She shakes her head. ]
Possibly both, truth be told.
[ Would she have done any less? More likely, no, and so she cannot truly judge or berate him. They are much alike in that regard. Neria squeezes his hand, eyes meeting his once more. ]
You don't need to eat if it doesn't suit you. I brought it in case you might like to try. You can go at your own pace. I'll be right here, just the same.
no subject
[ Cullen states that very matter-of-factly as he takes another sip of his tea. It's soothing enough, where the burn in his throat begins to subside and he can relax a little in his chair. For the time being, his work is set aside successfully. Cullen isn't sure he could even lean forward to take care of it if he tried at this point. His eyes close when she touches his forehead, open when they drift to his cheek and his gaze meets hers. ]
While I appreciate your concerns, I don't wish for this to interfere with our progress. I know you've said it won't, but I have remained silent for everyone's sake.
You're the first I've really indulged with details of my pain.
[ He's almost ashamed to say so. When he sets down his cup once again, their hands become intertwined once more, and Cullen finds comfort when their knees touch once she's scooted closer. He finds himself getting lost in their hands again, content to watch his thumbs roll over her knuckles and fingers. ]
I will eat... Eventually. Before you leave, I promise I will have at least made an attempt.
I don't wish for you to see me struggle. It pains me to sit before you a weakened mess.
no subject
Her fingers grasp his, digits running briefly over his palm. ]
Weeks ago, you said that my troubles were yours. That my pain was yours as well, as my partner and comrade.
[ As something more. She looks up at him. ]
I do not find your position any more shameful than my own, Cullen. Your troubles may not belong upon my shoulders but I would welcome them just the same.
[ Her hand turns his over, her fingers wresting over his wrist and pulse point. ]
Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,
I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm.
I shall endure.
What you have created, no one can tear asunder.
no subject
[ Cullen's gaze meets hers, his expression speaking volumes of how much her acceptance means to him. He revels in the feeling of her fingers drifting so carefully along his palm, and it brings a warmth that his chilled flesh welcomes. ]
[ Before he can say anything in return, she moves his hands, lets her palms move over until fingertips touch his wrists. The gesture is soothing enough, but almost pales in comparison to the canticle that falls from her lips. Cullen's attention never leaves her, and there is a look of awe that colors him when she begins to deliver her prayer. Words that touch him deep and leave his stomach fluttering and his heart skipping a beat. A feeling as if he's taken a leap, the inside of him bottoming out and leaving his skin to prickle. Cullen feels warm, as he always does when he prays. Despite what The Chantry has done, never will he desert his faith. It is clear that Neria knows as much, and he is flattered at the gesture. ]
[ Cullen swallows thickly, his face coloring a touch of red before he eventually bows his head and lets her finish. He hangs on every word, commits the sound of her voice breathing such beautiful words. While his bones and muscles are weary and aching, he finds a relieving comfort out of this. And her words ring true, the Chant of Light rings true, as always. He will endure this, as he has endured many hardships before. He nods in acknowledgment to the prayer, a hum of comfort. Cullen's fingers curl under her wrists, caress her skin as he allows his forehead to press against hers. ]
Thank you...
[ His eyes shut, and he finally manages a smile. ]
You're--
[ Weakly, he chuckles. ]
Whatever I have done to deserve your presence by my side... I pledge to continue doing so. I'm not sure where I would be without your unwavering support. Truly, I am not worthy.
no subject
But she does not fault others for having faith. Her frustrations with it, with the unknown plan there is for her, the sadness she feels regarding her own station should not affect others...least of all Cullen, someone she cares for. If his faith is what inspires confidence, who is she to take it away?
Like him, though, she knows the Chant of Light. She knows it forwards and backwards, too many days spent in the secluded area of the small rectory within the Circle listening to prayers with a book in her lap. There is comfort in faith, comfort in such a familiar thing for the both of them. She falls back into it from time to time, craving that familiarity and comfort. It offers a brief balm for her conscience. Better still, it seems to soothe his worry, and she leans into the tender press of his forehead. ]
I'm just a person, Cullen. You deserve kindness and friendship and solace just as anyone else. I'm only glad I can offer it to you, even if for a brief time. I care for you.
[ She opens her eyes to look up into his face. ]
I can't prevent you from hurting but I can certainly worry over what might happen to you.
no subject
[ He shakes his head at her remark, however, and his hands reach up to gently cup both sides of her face. ]
You are so much more than a mere person to me.
[ She has been his beacon, his pillar of support, and he is certain this would not be possible without her. Cullen owes more than just his life to this woman, this woman who is unlike any other he has ever met or ever will meet. This woman who he carries an undeniable torch for, who understands him better than most ever will. ]
Neria, I...
[ There is so much more than just care here. Cullen's heart always paces around her, skips a beat when she merely looks his way. She is kind, intelligent, beautiful, and it is on understandable that he has grown far beyond just attached to her. ]
[ Despite his pain, and despite the discomfort he is surely to be in for days to come, Cullen has faith. In her, in the Maker, and certainly in himself. It is in that spike of confidence that he kisses her without another word. Though passion moves his body, the kiss is gentle and cautious, much like the one they had shared in Halamshiral. And it is in this moment that he realizes how much he's missed such a shared gesture with her. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
WRONG JOURNAL, WOOPS
LMAO I WAS SO CONFUSED
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)