here lies the abyss; open;

[revocation]

Who| Cullen and YOU
What| After a truly horrific death in the arena, Cullen wakes up back in the Capitol. Time to regain his bearings and find his allies again!
Where| Around~ (Let me know if you want a specific prompt and I'll write one up!)
When| After his death, probably Wednesday or Thursday
Warnings/Notes| Descriptions of nasty psychological torture probably.

[District 2 suite]

He wakes with a start, ready for battle. That had been the last thing he remembers doing, after all. A monster, or demon, some sort of creature that had taken Adella's likeness and twisted it into something corrupted and horrific had appeared. His rage and grief had overcome him at the sight of the terrible thing, like his worst fear made diseased flesh, and he'd attacked, as unprepared for it as he was.

The thing had ripped into him viciously, and he remembers nothing more until - this.

The room is white and pristine and too, too bright, and he's groping for a sword that isn't there for a few moments until he recalls where he must be. The Capitol. One dies in the arena, and wakes up in the Capitol. Or so he's been told.

That brings him to his senses. He needs to find the others, if they're here as promised. He needs to find Adella. Maker, if she's here, if she's alive, he'll build a shrine to Andraste with his own two hands.

With a determined set to his mouth, his jaw, strides through the district suite, towards the elevator. He does remember how these work, thanks to Ser Sam Wilson's guidance, all those weeks ago.

[Tribute Tower common area]

He very quickly realizes that he has no real idea where to find many of his companions and allies. Many of them arrived in the arena itself, and so he doesn't know which district they are assigned to, and even if he did, the chances of finding them in their respective suites he thinks are low. Eventually, he makes his way to the main common area on the ground floor. It sees a lot of traffic, it's a natural place to congregate and wait for one's companions. He hopes.

And he tries to avoid looking at the brightly flashing screens everywhere. Maker, does he try.

[The roof]

As evening settles over the city, Cullen finds his way to the quiet and (relative) darkness of the rooftop garden. Even this place is utterly alien to him in a lot of ways, but it's slightly easier to stomach than most of the rest of the building or the city beyond. There is so much light from the city that it's almost impossible to get a good look at the stars, something which Cullen finds baffling, but he attempts it anyway, taking deep, calming breaths as he turns his face up.

Comments

[The Roof]

[allyorfoe]

She's spent a lot of time up here too. She'd been a city girl, born in the slums of the capitol city, but this city was too much, too together, with nothing green, no life. The fresh air, the few signs of nature. She took them when she could. Today, she'd managed to locate a bag of chocolate chips. Chocolate was a rarity growing up, and even once she became stupidly rich she hadn't really had to time to enjoy these things. But they just...passed chocolate out like it was nothing.

She'd come to the roof to enjoy her snack, bare feet padding quietly on the pavement, when she saw him. Relief flooded her, first, for though she wouldn't put him on the same level as her companions, in the month or so of their time surviving together, she'd grown to like him well enough. Though she would have preferred him not killed at all...at least he came back.

She shows this affection for her newfound friend by prompting pelting him with a chocolate chip.

"Meeting in the dark on the rooftop. This is like a sordid romance novel. Did you ever read Swords and Shields? It's awful, you should." She said, walking over, and flicking another chocolate chip at him, a smile on her face. "Oh, Commander--Wait, which Commander? The audience will never know." Both aware of happily committed relationships of the other, she felt comfortable with a little joking. Taking a few of the chocolates, and shoving them in her mouth, she offered the rest to Cullen. "Try some, they're great. And we get as much as we want."

She was...a lot more relaxed than she had been in the arena. With Alistair nearby, and out of the life and death situation, the elf acted more at ease. "Have you met your Lady Herald? I saw that she had come back, too. So kind of them, huh? Kill us off and sew us up. At least the food is good."

[revocation]

Being pelted with things wasn't exactly Cullen's idea of a friendly gesture, but when he saw the source of it, he relaxed very slightly. Tabris was something like a whirlwind blowing around wherever she went. Even in the arena, he'd found himself wondering how she didn't manage to exhaust herself, as quickly as the questions and quips fell from her lips. It could be exhausting to experience the other side of, at times, too.

"Er, quite," he said, not even quite sure what he was responding to. Out of politeness more than anything else, he took a morsel of what he quickly determined was chocolate, and popped it into his mouth. He didn't get much of the stuff, either, though Skyhold could probably get practically anything. Cullen just wasn't much of a chocolate-eater, though he couldn't deny this was good.

"Yes, I've seen Adella," he said then. "Thank the Maker she's unharmed." Almost an automatic response, but an earnest one as well.

[allyorfoe]

Being so short gave her more energy. It's just science, Cullen. She certainly hadn't seemed to slow down after being removed from the arena, though she did give Cullen time to process and comment on her rain of words. She nodded at his in response, taking more chips once he'd had some. Her eyes turned to overlook the city, lip curling as if viewing something particularly foul. What a shithole.

"That's good. I'm glad you guys found each other. Dorian and Maxwell did, too. Everything's piecing together, huh? We should all go on a massive date or--Oh! Alistair! He's here, Cullen." She nearly dropped her bag, eyes gleaming with excitement to unfurl this new. "My Alistair. The Warden. He knows me, he's--He's mine." It felt odd, overly possessive, but...Cullen would surely understand. Hers, as opposed to all the other worlds, with all the others who bore his face. The one who knew hers, and loved her.

"It's kind of--Well." She flicked her eyes around, not wanting to say to much with the eyeballs watching. Or whatever Shepard had called them. "We'll make it work. Just a heads up, though, when you see him. Don't wonder why he's not all kingly, just a dork with a dumb cute smile." Her words were kinder, softer than she'd used for anyone else. What a dumb loser. Her dumb loser.

[revocation]

He's mine would've told Cullen all he needed to know, given her expression and tone of voice, but she continued on anyway. Well, that was... something.

"I'm glad - he's the one you know," he said delicately. "I'll do my best not to mistake him for a king."

It wouldn't be difficult. It wasn't as if he knew King Alistair personally. He'd never even lived in Ferelden under his and Anora's rule, so he'd only heard things about them in the vaguest sense in Kirkwall, and even under the Inquisition he'd only ever read a letter or two written by the man, in an official capacity.

[allyorfoe]

"Thank you. He'll appreciate it. I'm so excited--In a weird way. I mean. He's going to be going into the arena with us. I don't like that. But..." She sighed, shaking her head. "If we're together, it'll be okay."

She had a lot of thoughts on it, but not here, in this place, and probably not with Cullen. She wasn't sure who she wanted to have it with--Someone she was used to confiding in, a red head with a single braid, Orlesian accent lilting in the air, or tanned skin and blond hair, an Antivan accent in a teasing tone. And others, of course. One person whose advice she had always held dear to her heart, but had since passed on.

"...Did you know Wynne?" She asked quietly, staring up at the sky. "You were both in the Ferelden circle, for a time. She was one of the wisest people I had ever known. And one of the kindest. She gave her life to protect others...twice, actually." She smiled quietly, idly flicking chocolate chips at the barrier, and watching them fizz and melt down it. "If I ever meet that Lambert fellow, I'm going to kick his teeth in."

Common Area

[tevintage]

He knew almost immediately what it was that the Avox was leading him to, when it came to fetch him. He'd made very clear that he was to be summoned upon Cullen's revival to the city, so even though the slave could not speak, it didn't need to.

There was only one of their number left to wait for.

"I suppose my days of willful idleness are over," He said with a teasing, wistful sigh. "Good to see you hale and whole."

[revocation]

Cullen glanced up at the familiar voice, and actually managed a small smile - after reuniting with Adella, the world didn't seem quite so terrible anymore. And seeing another of his companions back alive was always a plus.

"The same goes for you," he said with a nod. "It seems not all of us made it back, from what I understand."

[tevintage]

"No," Dorian admitted, the smile slipping somewhat. "Both Lavellen and our dearest Josephine did not return. I'm told even I took my time, but there's little hope for them to appear now."

Josephine's loss had actually hit Dorian harder than he cared to mention to anyone. They weren't exactly the best of friends, but he'd known her for a long time and he held her in high regard. Lavellen, he barely knew, but there were questions that he'd never managed to ask...

"The rest of us, as I understand, are all accounted for."

[revocation]

Cullen feels similarly. He feels bad about Lavellan, but he'd only spoken to her once, briefly, so she had been essentially a stranger to him. But Josie - she hadn't deserved any of this. He hoped she was in a better place, or at least back home, where she belonged.

"We must focus on those we can help here and now," he said after a moment. "On helping each other, as long as we're all here."

That was what mattered.

[D2 Suite]

[unlikelyherald]

Adella had been watching when the abominations were released into the Arena. She'd seen the creature take Cullen down, and the abject horror and grief she'd faced while being watched by others was sickening. She'd also felt anger, buried under the fear that maybe they wouldn't bring him back here. They hadn't brought back Josephine, or the Lavellan woman Cullen had mentioned to her. She isn't sure what she'd do if they didn't bring him back. She certainly wouldn't be able to maintain the effervescent façade she'd been attempting whenever approached by cameras and liberally questioned about her relationship with the Commander.

She'd learned where the others were supposed to be staying, and reunited with them as she could. If they'd allowed it, she likely would have camped out in District 2's suites until Cullen appeared. As it was, she visited regularly.

It was purely luck that as Cullen headed towards the elevators that the doors opened, revealing Adella standing within, her eyes on the numbers above the door before they flicked down to settle on him. His name barely leaves her lips before she's moving, running until she crashes into him.

[revocation]

Cullen barely has time to process that it's her - that she's alive, and here - before she barrels into him, fierce and warm and most definitely real.

The emotion that wells up inside him upon seeing her like this, after watching her die, is indescribable. As his arms go around her to return the embrace, for a moment all he can do is breathe in her familiar scent, pressing his face into her neck. "You're alive," he hears himself say, his voice muffled and choked with emotion. "You're alive."

[unlikelyherald]

"So are you," she replies, her own voice quavering as she clings to him, her face pressed against his shoulder. She wasn't a stranger to their being apart, but never like this. Never in a situation where she genuinely thought he could be gone for good.

"Andraste be praised," she's never shown a whole lot of faith in the Chant unless directly asked about it, but right now she can't help but feel like a little of that quiet belief has been justified.

[revocation]

He's thinking along the same lines. Thank the Maker, thank Andraste, thank any deity that might be watching over them that she's safe with him again. He takes a breath, and pulls away just enough that he can frame her face in his hands, can look her in the eyes as though re-memorizing her features. He drinks her in like a man dying of thirst given cool, clear water.

[D2 suite stuff] hope this works -- if you need more/something changed, lemme know!

[burningdaylight]

Can’t sleep. But he doesn’t think he has, restfully, in the last two years. There’s always something lying in wait when he closes his eyes and it’s the ominous blue of the lake tonight, the mocking glimmers of light between chunks of ice bobbing along the surface and air-hunger squeezing his lungs, so real he wakes up gasping, clawing at the blanket tangled around him.

Five months and it’s still so strange to blink into the darkness and bring the outlines of his room and its needlessly lavish furnishings into focus and know he’s alone and feel it, gnawing deep in his gut. There’s no one to worry about waking up when he sits up and heaves a quiet, shaky sigh, staring dully at the wall. No one to see him when he buries his face in his hands and stays like that for a long time. All he knows is that he has to go. Just away, somewhere.

Somewhere becomes the couch of D2’s suite, where he gets to in time to catch a reunion near the elevators. It’s no one he knows. They talk like doting poets, wrapped up in each other and at the centre of each others’ universes, radiating an intensity of relief and raw, bittersweet joy that makes him feel like an intruder as he sits there, eyes soft with sympathy, and pretends he doesn’t hear a thing. Giving them space, because it’s the respectful thing to do. He just stares at the scars and creases etched into his palms, breathing and breathing until it’s over, because it’s all he can do.

[revocation]

It's a long while before they part ways - reluctantly. But Cullen is wary of breaking their assigned sleeping quarters, unsure if such a thing might be punished. He will do whatever necessary to keep his people safe, Adella first and foremost among them. Until he knows for certain, he'll endure the nights alone. It's not as if he's not used to it.

And it's only when she's gone that he realizes they have an unwitting audience. He would've hoped the man was asleep, but he's clearly not, and Cullen can already feel his neck turning red at the thought of someone overhearing his extremely private words with Adella. It was his fault, though, they shouldn't have been speaking like that here in the common room.

"Sorry if I disturbed you," he mutters, ready to escape to his room.

[burningdaylight]

It might have been a minute or ten they’ve been talking for, he can't tell. But the strangers part ways and suddenly someone's hovering in his peripheral vision and he looks up, blinking until he realizes he recognizes the guy as the one by the elevators. It takes him a moment longer for him to process what he's been asked.

"No--" He begins tiredly with a shake of his head. Combs his fingers through his hair. “No, s'fine. Ain’t nothin’ to apologize for.”

He has felt that overwhelming surge of relief and gratitude when reuniting with the people he cared for, some people he might have never met had the world not gone to shit. Felt it while soaking in their presence not knowing if each day that they lived to see would be the last time he’d see their faces and hear their voices and feel the light and warmth their existence brought to his own.

Family is hope. It’s pain and it's worry, it’s lying wide awake in the dark chill of pre-dawn and listening to sound of soft, slow breathing around you and remembering that you’re not alone in the world, even when the cold creeps inside you and grief gnaws on the edges of your mind, eating you away bit by bit. Family is everything. But some days, even that's not enough.

[revocation]

Part of him, in his embarrassment, wants to ask how much this man overheard - most of it was deeply private and Cullen is uncomfortable at the thought of his every move being watched, recorded, even just observed by a passerby.

"How - did you - " He stops, and shakes his head, waving it off. There's no point, besides, for all he knows, this stranger was asleep the whole time.

"Er - is this your assigned district?" he asks after a moment, curious. His time in the Capitol so far has been spent mostly preoccupied with those from his own world - he hasn't paid much heed to the people who come and go from the district suites.

he thinks we can fix the future. || the roof

[wardenings]

"Ah, my pardons, I didn't know anyone was up here."

Worn hands run together to create friction-- the closest thing to pure magic that someone like the young Warden could get-- as the mechanical, chilly air runs over the skin of the man, pursing his lips in frustration. Frustrated at the person who had claimed presence of the roof before him? No-- Maker, no, but instead, the sheer frustration at the fact that this face was recognizable.

"My word, I'm sorry for staring-- you were on the ... "

His voice trails off, hazel eyes scanning the face, the form of the other. Yes, this is true; this man was on the Death toll from the last Arena, but after his conversation with Tabris, he's less shocked about this man's face. "... Death count."

He shakes his head, crossing his arms (albeit, from an angle, it looked like the man was sort of... hugging himself in distaste). "I'm sorry, this is all still very alarming."

[revocation]

The first thing that Cullen notices about this man is that he projects very clearly the feeling of newcomer. He acts much the same as Cullen had felt on first arriving in the Capitol.

"Trust me, I understand," he says with a faint curl of his lip. "It's worse when you go through it yourself." Not, perhaps, the actual dying part, but the uncertainty of it, of having to see those you care about die.

He holds out his hand for the other man to shake. "My name is Cullen," he says politely.

[wardenings]

"Alistair."

He grips the other's hand firmly, noting the strong, warrior grip the other had; it was something he didn't quite see in this new, futuristic world. It was something that reminded him of home. A twinge of nostalgia ran up the Warden's spine as his lips curled up into a gentle smile, nodding to the man.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. That armor you're wearing... it looks... familiar."

[revocation]

"Ah, yes, Tabris mentioned you had arrived," Cullen says, recognition dawning on his face. So this is the famous Alistair.

"I'm from Thedas as well - sort of. What has - she explained to you?"

[earthborn]

It's enough that Shepard is considering relocating her perennial pillow fort to the Roof. She just... Can't stay inside, anymore. But then she can't stay outside, can't stay anywhere; she wants to keep moving. Shepard begins to hope that the upcoming crowning will lead into another arena as swiftly as the last, if only so that she can do something.

Leave it to the Capitol to ruin the only thing that made it bearable-- she doesn't even feel safe drinking here, anymore. Which is one of the infamous excesses to which this place was meant to be dedicated, goddammit. The speed with which her liver had purged the after-effects was disgusting. Is disgusting. Whatever.

"Hey," She shoots across, when Cullen doesn't break the silence, "So. Had your first arena. Ready for round two?"

She's not naturally cruel, no. It had to be trained into her over the course of a lifetime. But she could be worse.

[revocation]

He frankly didn't even notice her presence until she makes herself known. He's been so caught up in his own thoughts, he hasn't given much attention to other things. Maybe that's not the wisest thing, but Cullen is preoccupied.

If she intends to get a rise out of him, she'll be disappointed. She looks tired, worn down - well, don't they all? She has, by her own admission, been here for a long time. She's done this many times over. It would wear anyone down after a while.

"Technically, this was my second," he points out after a moment. "But I'm not sure anyone can ever be ready for more."

[earthborn]

"Right, sorry. Forgot about that one. They start to kinda..." She waved a hand, to indicate the vagueness of her own vision, "They blur together, after a while."

Did she used to be this pathetic? Shepard has fond memories of looking over the burning corpses of entire nations and not feeling a damn thing aside from anger, and determination. She remembers being tougher than this, stronger. Or maybe she's just drinking her own Alliance propaganda kool-aid, who knows?

"I am. At this point, I'm starting to prefer the arenas to the Capitol, sick as that sounds. At least, in there, you know where you stand," A heavy sigh, "Look, don't listen to me, I'm just tired. Can I ask you something?"

[revocation]

Quite frankly, Cullen isn't sure where he stands in or out of the arenas. He could almost envy Shepard any kind of assurance. But he doesn't voice that aloud, it's a pointless train of thought.

"Ask away," he says instead, a little dubious. He's not uncertain of her motives, simply her - vocabulary.