dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts; (OPEN)

[revocation]

Who| Cullen and Dorian; Cullen and YOU!
What| So a medieval fantasy knight walks into Panem...
Where| All around the tribute tower, possibly in the city itself! He's exploring and trying to figure out wtf is going on.
When| The first week or so after the end of the arena.
Warnings/Notes| Uhhhh... possibly some spoilers for Dragon Age Inquisition...? I can put him just about anywhere, so feel free to just toss up a location. If you're not sure if he'd be somewhere, feel free to PM me or ping me on plurk (frodabaggins)!

The place he wakes up in is no less surreal than the dark metal monstrosity he left, though it's obviously cleaner and more brightly lit - less overtly dangerous. It's all shiny, flat surfaces, with metal and glass and strange materials he doesn't recognize. No stonework, no masonry, no crenelations or battlements. Just strange flat squares showing moving images in practically every room. There must be some powerful magic at work here, to be able to light whole buildings with no candles that he can see, and make those framed faces talk.

He spends some time looking for his armor, for his sword, but he can't for the life of him find any of it - makes sense, he supposes, that their captors would want to remove his weapons, his outward defenses. Even though, as far as he can tell, he's free to move about the place as he wishes. No one tries to stop him.

In the kitchen area, he finds a box filled with cold food - more magic? And he pokes at strange boxes with buttons on them that look nothing like any oven he's ever seen before. At the elevator bank, he can be seen examining the doors and panels with a confused expression on his face, his brow furrowed slightly. Eventually, he finds his way to the training room, where there are actually weapons he recognizes, at least, even if much of it is still strange and alien to him. In the city itself, he is nearly overwhelmed by the number of people. The outrageous fashions remind him a little of Orlais, and when strangers approach him in the street to gawk and ask him questions he looks incredibly uncomfortable.

There isn't even a proper Chantry in this place.

Comments

[revocation]

Such a simple statement, and so difficult to manage. Cullen waits until the bartender hands them their drinks, considering his words.

"Lady Trevelyan, formerly of the Ostwick Circle of Magi," he begins. "I - there - seems to be some confusion amongst us, however. The Inquisitor I remember is... not the same person as the Inquisitor some of the others from my world remember. I can only speak of the one I know."

[earthborn]

"Cullen, I'm asking you, not them," She picked up her drink as it was handed to her, "If I wanted what somebody else remembered, I'd be talking to them right now. Go on."

[revocation]

"No, I understand, I'm just saying - if you ask the others, and they speak of someone else, we're aware of the discrepancy. We don't know why, but it's there."

He gives a shrug and takes a sip of his ale.

"She didn't ask for it - she didn't ask for any of it. She was simply in the... right place at the wrong time, I suppose. But she took the reins and proved willing and able to make some very difficult decisions. She's shouldered a lot of responsibility - more than anyone should, honestly. And she handles it all with grace and poise. She's a remarkable woman."

He takes another sip. He's sure any of them would say the same of her.

when you push the random icon button and it picks the one you wanted

[earthborn]

Well, he'd make a shitty spy, she could tell that much. Subtle, Cullen Rutherford was not. She put her glass down, heavy on the polished wood.

"And you've been in love with this girl for... how long?"

im dying

[revocation]

Cullen chokes on his ale.

He tries to cover it up, but no, it's definitely choking, and he has to smack his chest to clear his airway, and the color that rises to his cheeks is definitely a result of the choking, and not at all of her question. Right.

No.

"That's - what? I didn't - that's none of your concern," he stammers out, because really. What sort of person just says that after fifteen minutes' acquaintance?

[earthborn]

"Oh so, what-- a few months? Nah, probably closer to a year," She says it casually, sipping at her drink. He was an enormous tawny dog in human form, she could have sworn it. Look at this dipshit, he was hopeless, "Nobody gets that pathetic in a month, at your age."

She really is the worst, but she comes by it honestly; spite was probably endemic to her gene pool. See that smirk? Terrible.

[revocation]

He shoots her a glare.

"That is none of your concern," he growls out. He may still be blushing a little, but his voice brooks no argument. If there's one thing he won't tolerate, it's people prying into his personal affairs - and perfect strangers at that.

[earthborn]

"Alright, alright, I give," It's Shepard's turn to choke on her drink when he turns up the heat, "You might want to avoid talking about her if you're trying to keep that one out of the limelight. And I'd stay out of cardgames, you have a face like an open book."

[revocation]

"I didn't say anything -" He trails off with a scowl and shakes his head. "My private affairs are my own. I'll thank you to stay out of them. If you wish to know about my world, fine."

He's not even touching the card-playing comment. Oh, no.

[earthborn]

That earned him another chuckle. Hoo, boy, you have got it, bad.

"Easy, Commandr, I get it. Inquisitor talk is off limits," Perhaps a return to more formal address would sooth his ruffled feathers. Here, a peace offering, "How about you ask me one, for once. I can't be the only one who likes to see trouble coming before I step in it."

[revocation]

He sighs, glaring into his ale for a moment. Whatever in the Maker's name makes people think they have a right to discuss such things with near-perfect strangers...

"Fine. Tell me of your training," he says finally, his tone brisk, authoritative. Almost like he's talking to a new recruit, though with less condescension. She, too, is a commander, so he might as well hear her credentials - even if they mean nothing to him.

[earthborn]

"Well, Okay..." If he was looking to derail her, he's won that victory. The question makes her blink, eyes glancing off bottles and shelves in an unintentional bid to skive off the answer. Training? Hell, "I joined the Alliance when I was a teenager. I'm a biotic, so the first order of business for me was Acclimation Training. Can't exactly become a soldier if you're more of a danger to yourself than anything else, right?"

It hadn't been Alenko's Brain Camp, but her training had been exacting and tirless. Even now, she suffered the scars of a training started late and aimed towards a singular purpose: combat effectiveness. Shepard had seen biotics who could lift a cup without upending the contents, or fling a pen off a desk, but that kind of control was a pipe dream for someone who hadn't had formal training until the age of sixteen. A pen? She'd reduce the desk to splinters!

"I'm not what you'd call a 'finesse' kind of biotic. That's what you get, waiting until enlistment," She took a drink to collect her thoughts, "Once I had that under control, I got to go through Basic, same as anyone else. Cut your hair short, learn discipline and protocol and how to fight. I was in it to be an officer, so I had a lot of other stuff on top of that. Did you want something specific or... I mean, hell, I joined the military, not a dance troupe. It can't be all that different just because I had a pistol and your lot have swords."

[revocation]

He was right that some of it doesn't make any sense to him. But actually - he gets the gist pretty easily. Now that she's not asking him personal questions, he's relaxing a bit more, his brow furrowing as he tries to work out the details of what she's explaining.

"What are - biotics?" he asks. To him - especially given the line about being more of a danger to yourself - it sounds like mages. Though mages are not, by and large, allowed to serve in the military.

[earthborn]

"Not magic."

She could see him drawing that conclusion before she'd even got all the way through it. Alright so maybe Dorian's got her dander up. Maybe. Shut up.

"Sorry. It's a little hard to explain. Here, maybe I can show you?" the devices the Capitol supplied were little better than annoyingly small datapads, but they could access the network and they could playback video, which was enough for Shepard's purposes, "Wait...okay, here; this is from the last Arena."

It was a scene from the interior of the space station, and the lighting might have been dim if not for the subject matter. Shepard was neatly centered, glowing an unmistakable blue-white as she crouched, watching something the glare made invisible in the shadows. The alien creature leapt and she met it mid-air in a flare of force. Shepard cut off the clip with her thumb before the creature met its inevitable end.

"Biotics."

[revocation]

He's still not used to the strange devices, but he's seen enough of them by now not to be surprised by what she does with it, or what he sees on it.

It definitely reads as magic to him, at first, despite what the woman claims - as though she's had the argument recently, no less. The closest thing he can find in his own knowledge and experience is force magic. He's seen mages violently throw opponents down, or away from them, or create strange points of force that dragged everything within a certain radius inward.

But what it also looks like is lyrium.

"I once saw a man with lyrium infused into his skin able to do some quite remarkable things," he comments after a moment. "Magical in nature, perhaps, but he was not a mage himself. He could make himself partially incorporeal, and move at great speed."

[earthborn]

It's bizarre just how reasonable it sounds when Cullen says it. As soon as the word 'magic' drops out of Dorian's mouth, there's nothing more he could say to re-estimate downward her opinion of his opinion. That's something to reexamine later.

She remembers training with an N6 during her house arrest, an adept-class with a mouth like a sailor. The shit they could pull off with the newest generation of implants... partially incorporeal was about the right term for it.

"Lyrium?" She had the sinking sensation that before too much longer she was going to owe Dorian Pavus an apology, "I've never heard of it."

[revocation]

"It's a substance naturally imbued with magic," Cullen explains between sips of his drink. "The only substance which exists both in the physical world and the Fade, the realm of spirits and dreams. That's how he could be partially incorporeal, you see, the lyrium would've allowed him to, in a sense, Fade-step. And because time and distance don't work the same in the Fade as they do in the real world, he could move much faster than usual."

That's the theory behind it of course, and Cullen's voice remains somewhat clinically detached, but having it etched into one's skin isn't something he'd wish on his worst enemy.

[earthborn]

Now here came the fun part.

"Alright, Cullen, I want you to pretend that you're talking to someone who has no idea what a Fade-step is, or the 'Fade' and has never even once seen Lyrium in their life," she held out both hands, elbows leaned on the bar, "Explain it to me like I'm an idiot. Or a small child."

Anybody want to explain it to the slow-witted human in simple terms? The sarcasm was well-intentioned, but quite palpable.

[revocation]

"That was the simple explanation. I'm not sure how I can make it simpler," Cullen says with a snort. "We used to think lyrium was a mineral, but now we're not so sure. It's found underground, though, and mined like a mineral. In its pure form, it's toxic to all but the most resistant. In diluted form, it's a powerful magical reagent that can be consumed to add power to spells, or used to imbue weapons and armor with enchantments."

Another sip of his drink. "The Fade is as I've described - the realm of dreams and spirits. We enter the Fade when we dream, and, according to the Chant of Light, it's where our spirits go when we die, for a time. Other spirits dwell there as well. Demons."

[earthborn]

"It all just sounds like fiction to me. Fantasy. Fairy tales with magic and dragons and stuff," She doesn't actually want to insult Cullen, but... Well, at least her world makes sense, "Wild shit."

Demons. Spirits. Hell, even the Asari weren't so devout as to claim literal truth when they talked about that kind of thing. Even Liara...

"And you... I mean, this isn't just faith talking? You're describing actual reality, here?"

[revocation]

"Well, forgive me for saying so, but ships that can travel the stars and visit other worlds seem equally implausible to me," Cullen points out.

"And yes, it's real. The Fade is very real, as anyone in my world can attest, after the Veil was ripped open and a breach created, spilling demons into the physical realm and killing hundreds. Not that we needed that as proof."

He rubs a finger up the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Mages can enter the Fade willingly, with enough lyrium and practice."

[earthborn]

"Hah, well. It's the same stuff that drives starships as makes Biotics possible," she shrugs, one-shouldered, "Once you can reliably violate physics, the rest follows naturally."

But she thought about that, about Dorian tossing off lightning like a curveball, fire chasing ice out of his fingertips. Where did the energy really come from? Where did it go? And yet, his people still rode horses and used swords and steel armor, lived in castles and thought of the stars as immutable dots in the sky.

"...But maybe that's not always true," She thought about the Reapers, waiting to slap down any civilization that held its head up too high. Maybe it was better to stay on the ground, after all. Too small to be worth killing, "So we're both from pretty weird places. I'm glad to have met you, Commander."

A little perspective was, after all, a gift.

[revocation]

"I can't claim any great knowledge, even of my own world, but I would venture to say that it's possible the rules differ, from world to world," Cullen says easily.

He finishes off his drink, and offers his hand to shake. "Likewise, Commander."