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

[wardenings]

"Most things. The Arena, the Tributes. She filled in the holes that they left, they being the makers of this damned game." Alistair crosses his arms over his chest, expression shifting into something a bit more serious, answering the man's question in a way proper.

"I saw your... ah... do I offer you self-condolences? The life-after-death system is something that confuses me, a bit."

[revocation]

Cullen's face twists a little at the memory of his last moments in the arena. Painful, and all the more so not because of his death per se, but because of what, exactly, caused it. The display of weakness, which - well, if Alistair saw it, presumably everyone did.

Not his finest moment, on the whole.

"As someone who's been through it, it doesn't get any less confusing," he says quietly after a moment. "There's something else you should know, as well. Those of us from Thedas - we're not all from the same version of Thedas. As insane as that sounds." In addition to all the other insane things about this situation. - he can't help but think it sort of figures Tabris wouldn't have even tried to explain this particular bit of it.

[wardenings]

Jaw sets, leaning his weight back. "The same version of Thedas. What, do you mean like, different realms?" The idea is as batshit as the Warden can process, but he's intrigued nonetheless. He arches a brow at the Templar, as if to invite him to explain.

"As far as I'm aware, there is only one Thedas. But then again, I have been in hiding for some time, while Tabris ran off and did whatever it was she did best."

[revocation]

Cullen shrugs. "I don't pretend to understand it, but we have no fewer than two Inquisitors here in this world right now, we used to have a third, and there are at least a couple other Inquisitors that some of us seem to know," he says bluntly.

"And in the Thedas I come from, the Hero of Ferelden isn't called Tabris. She's not even an elf."

[wardenings]

"Is that so," Alistair ponders out loud -- the Hero of Ferelden, not Tabris? "Who is your Hero of Ferelden, then, if you don't mind me asking? A human? Or perhaps some kind of dwarf?"

He rests his hands on his waist, arching a brow. All of this was so strange; was this, perhaps, some new and weird form of magic? Realm magic? Phase magic?

"So strange," the Grey Warden rolls his shoulders. "But it is set up all the same, yes? Anora as Queen, Cailan still was betrayed by Loghain, et cetera?"

[revocation]

"She's human," he says. "A mage from Ferelden's Circle."

He watches the other man carefully for a moment. "Obviously, I couldn't tell you every detail. I wasn't intimately involved in the Blight. I think the generalities, however, seem to be mostly the same. The Blight happened, Cailan died at Ostagar, the Hero of Ferelden defeated the archdemon."

[wardenings]

"And for the most part, that's what happened. Loghain was killed for his treachery, and Anora ruled as queen on her own, as Cailan's widow, beloved by all."

Alistair chuckles. "Other than the fact that my Hero was elven, I doubt that there was any variant! Are you sure we're not from the same world?"

[revocation]

"Anora no longer rules Ferelden," Cullen says bluntly. Might as well just get it out there. There's no point keeping it from him - Tabris knows too.

"You do."

[wardenings]

"Normally I would clap you on the shoulder, but-- that's not something I like joking about, Cullen." He was sure that the Templar had heard of his birth status. Call him the bastard, the Chantry boys would always tease him, call him his blood like mud!

"...that expression." He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "You're not joking with me, are you? You're being completely serious."

[revocation]

Cullen shrugs. "Some people you talk to might claim I don't have a sense of humor to begin with. Regardless, it's true. We all come from different worlds, and in some of them, you're the king of Ferelden."

[wardenings]

"Who was the idiot that made THAT decision? Were they drunk? Maker damn the name, that Ferelden is in the ground by now, I'm sure-- damn it all to hell, I am too old for this." Alistair sighs, fingers going to the bridge of his nose.

[revocation]

"I can't say what the reasoning was, as I wasn't present, but I can say with some amount of certainty that Ferelden is not in the ground - if anything, given recent events, it's better off than many places might be. And the king - ah, you - are generally well-regarded as a ruler."

He gives a faint shrug.

[wardenings]

"Maker's graces, I think I'm going to lose my mind. Let's not talk about this anymore. The thought of there being another me... of there being someone who is exactly the same except he bears a crown while I bear a blade..."

Alistair frowns. "Tell me about the other aspects of your Ferelden. Is Denerim the same? The mages, are they still under Templar guard?"

[revocation]

Cullen raises his eyebrows a little at the other man. "I'm hardly an expert. All I can tell you is, the variations seem to be around key people - most of the events are more or less the same. There's always a Hero of Ferelden, and always an Inquisitor, they just seem to be different depending on the world. I can't speak to Denerim's state, I haven't been there since I was a child, before the Blight."