Commander Cullen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
revocation) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-03-14 11:19 pm
revocation) wrote in thecapitol2015-03-14 11:19 pm
here lies the abyss; open;
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.
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.
no subject
He's a Fereldan. If your king is bad, he ought to be overthrown. Not that he's about to say that aloud here, but still.
"Computers," he says, slowly, the word utterly alien to him.
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"A man's got a strong back, but not strong enough to carry the load, so he invents a cart to carry it for him," She mimed lifting something up with one hand, as if gripping an invisible handle, "Artificial muscle. Teeth aren't sharp enough to cut your meat, invent a knife-- artificial teeth, and claws. We're soft, and we don't grow armor like a turtle, so we invent artificial armor. That's what sentient species do; we find a limitation, and use technology to overcome it. Computers are like that, but for thinking, and making decisions. Machines, that think."
A dangerous line to walk of course. You let something think for long enough, it started getting ideas.
"'Course, if you take it too far, they start to think for themselves. That's how you get from a VI to an AI. Let your reach exceed your grasp, and accidentally create life-- it's happened before."
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"You know, in my world, there are lessons to be learned about not overextending," he finally says. "According to legend, a very long time ago the Magisters of the Tevinter Imperium tried to usurp the seat of the Maker, and entered the Fade physically - something no one was supposed to do. They became the first darkspawn, a hideous mockery of life, and began the first Blight."
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That was an interesting thought; what would Cullen have made of EDI, or even Legion? She smirked, thinking of the look on his face when presented with the impassive optics of a Geth Prime.
"This isn't religious legend I'm talking about here, it's recent history. I've even got an AI in my crew."
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But that was before Corypheus revealed himself.
"Still, though - man playing Maker? I can't imagine much good coming of that."
Of course, Cullen is no stranger to disliking a concept but having no problem with individual representatives of that concept. See also: his relationship to magic and mages.
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This time, her smile was more real; the first, in weeks.
"A lot of good has come from it. Maybe some bad too, but... everybody makes mistakes, when they're young."
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He sighs, looking out over the city again. "What I really want to know is why there are so many shops which sell nothing but coffee."
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Tea is better for his headaches.
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