thecapitol | here lies the abyss; open;

Entry tags:

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.

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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."

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.

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.

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.

"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."

"I hope, for both your sakes, that you are," Cullen said immediately, and meant it. Even now, knowing Adella was alive, he was both desperate to return to her and keep her by his side and dreading the next arena. Dreading having to see her die again, or she him.

But as fast as that, Tabris was off again on another subject entirely, and Cullen had to think a moment to follow her trail of thought. Wynne. Ferelden.

"Oh. Yes, of course. She was very well-respected, by everyone," he said, recalling her face. "She gave a few stern lectures even to Templars. I'm sad to hear she passed." Another casualty of the rebellion, no doubt. Wynne would never have stood for such a radical break, such violence.

"Lambert? Lord Seeker Lambert?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "He's dead. Murdered in his bed during the rebellion, so I'm told."

"That's the kind of woman Wynne was." Tabris muttered, looking down quietly, chocolate momentarily forgotten. "Even when she said things I didn't want to hear...the way she said it. You knew she was doing it because she honestly thought that was best. It's not something I get a lot. I'm glad she never had to see...the state of the world now." She mused, shaking her head. Mages and templars killing each other, big ol' hole in the sky, fucking darkspawn trying to play god. What the fuck.

"Ah, really?" She blinked, looking at Cullen. "Good. Fuck that guy." With that proclaimed, she grabbed more chocolate from the bag, popping it in her mouth. "Can they bring people who are already dead? From, like, the past? Because if he shows up, I'm kicking him in the teeth." A few more chocolates pelt the barrier, leaving melted streaks, until they burn away entirely. "He killed Wynne. Bloody blighter."

"Ah - indeed," Cullen said, quietly. He couldn't imagine Wynne being murdered in cold blood. But he couldn't imagine a lot of the terrible things that had happened. Even things that he'd seen with his own eyes.

"I was in Kirkwall," he admitted, and he didn't think he had to tell her when he was in Kirkwall. "It was - horrific."

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."

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."

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.

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."

Her mouth twists at that. Even if Anders was the written villain, even if Hawke would go down in history as the one who aided him, Tabris would live with the guilt of being the silent enabler. It has started with her, she had let Justice come with them, puppeting that dead man. She had let that Templar join their ranks, if just to get the organization to back off. It had been harmless, she thought, for she trusted Anders with her life, and knew no templar would find fault with him. Should have seen it coming, as soon as the Orlesians came. They didn't understand what it was like, being one half of the warden population of Ferelden. They didn't understand desperation and taking unorthodox measures. Recruiting a spirit? Recruiting an apostate? Hand over the chalice, she hasn't got all day.

But history would never really know to what extent she had affected the future so. Perhaps it was better, no one needed to know what the Hero of Ferelden had done when the spotlight had been removed.

"Kirkwall had enough friction between templars and mages to set the whole town on fire before you or Hawke ever stepped foot there," She mumbled quietly. "They had the highest population of blood mages and abominations in southern Thedas and Greagoir just shuffled you off there." She shook her head, relieved that her husband had been spared the man's stupidity. "That place was a powder keg waiting for a spark. Not even counting the qunari. I was more surprised about them than I should have been. Sten was always a good man, but...He had his limits." Killing a family over the loss of his sword...a contingent killing a city didn't seem that much of a reach.

Cullen waved it off. Once again, he didn't understand much of what she was saying. Sten he was pretty sure was a qunari title of some sort but she apparently used it as a name for someone.

As for Greagoir and Kirkwall, well, he might've pointed out that talking about things and people she knew nothing about was unwise, but somehow he doubted she would listen. She seemed keen enough to make snap judgments about a lot of things. Besides, it hardly mattered.

"What's done is done," he said after a moment. "Adella has been doing a fine job of putting things back to rights, despite having the weight of the world dropped on her shoulders. And here, well. I see nothing about our overall strategy that should change."

Meaning: stick together, and keep everyone alive as best they could, both in and out of the arenas, until they could find a way back to their own world(s).

"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.

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.

She mirrors his motions, gripping his face with her own hands, giving him a watery smile. It hasn't been easy, watching, waiting. She had hoped, when he survived as long as he did, that he might make it to the end. That she wouldn't have to watch him die, in a way so much worse than the way she had died. She'd had him then, at least. He'd had no one.

Smile breaking she leans in, pressing her forehead against his and squeezing her eyes shut briefly, her fingers sliding to lock behind his head, holding him close.

"I've been so worried about you."

Under just about any other circumstances, Cullen would hate to be embracing so intimately in an area where other people can walk through and see. Exposing his private emotions in public is something he's spent a long time training himself not to do.

But right now, he doesn't care. As far as he's concerned, right now she's the only other person in the world, and he's not letting go of her for anything.

"All that matters is, you're safe," he murmurs. More and more lately, that's the most important thing to him. Knowing that she's alright. He doesn't want to talk about what happened in the arena - as far as he's concerned there's nothing to talk about, since it's over and they're both here, alive.

Everyone judged everyone else. That is a thing that people do, take what information they have and form a judgement of them. And Greagoir had never left a sterling impression (something about saying maybe the qunari had a good idea going with how they treated mages). Tabris judged on that impression, just as Cullen judged on the impression that he had been left with--something slightly more flattering. Or at least, that's what Tabris would say.

She might also say something about how an elf could have done a better job, but she's pretty sure that's pushing it. And she doesn't actually know how much better Lavellan was doing. But she's sure that Lavellan was doing just as good of a job, and managing to smash racial barriers.

"I admit I saw little of the chaos, but that it managed to reach my ears where I was traveling shows just how bad it was. I'll be glad to return to a Ferelden that isn't once again torn apart by war." She approached the edge, staring down. No jumping from here. Not now, anyway. "It's different, though. I wish this were a simpler place. A simpler time. I wish that there was just a big, ugly darkspawn that someone could point me to and say, 'If you kill this, everything will be better.'" Her voice was soft, she never thought she'd yearn for the days of the blight, when everything seemed so horribly complicated, and yet, intrinsically simple. The mission had always been perfectly clear, one she'd never faltered from. It was just the doing that had been hard. "At least the darkspawn are simple. They just want to kill everything." She sighed, backing up.

"But wanting never made something happen. And me and Alistair are alone here." She glanced over, and straightened, offering her hand. She shifted, slightly, looking more serious. More like a Warden. Similar to when she'd been planning in the arena, though more of an awareness about her. "I know I'm not the one that you wanted--Hell, I doubt I'm the one anyone wanted in my own world. And I know I'm kind of an asshole. And I swear too much. None of that is gonna change, but I'm here, and I want to help. The Wardens will stand with the Inquisition, if you'll have us."

"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."

"Things are always easier when what you're fighting is simply a monster," Cullen said, almost sadly. Corypheus was one thing, but he knew one of the contributing factors of the mage rebellion was people on both sides who came to view the other as not human. As evil. Monsters. Even he'd gone far down that road for a time. It didn't do anyone any good - in fact, it made things worse. For everyone.

"What I want doesn't factor into things. What I want is for none of us to have been here in the first place. The fact of the matter is, we are here, and who you are matters less to me than the fact that you are from Thedas. You and Alistair are not alone, because we are going to stick together. The Capitol can do what they like - it won't matter in the slightest."

And that was the Maker's absolute truth. He wasn't going to abandon anyone. His lingering skepticism of her personally had nothing to do with how to survive this place and figure out a way back home.

She'd argue that point, there's so much more that matters, his safety just as important, but it seems relatively insignificant right now. She just smiles, letting out a huff of air that's almost like a laugh, opening her eyes to focus on him.

"I missed you. I'm glad you're here, now." As much as she dislikes this place, dislikes it all the more because they used her against him, she can't help but feel happy that he's with her again. She's still not sure what they're trying to accomplish with the Districts and pitting people from different worlds against each other, but if drama for the sake of it were a side-effect, they'd certainly had it with them.

She might argue, but right here and now there is nothing else for him. Just her. If he has her with him, alive and safe, he can do anything. His arms slide around her tighter, and he presses a kiss to her temple, gentle and earnest.

"I missed you, too," he murmurs, and not in the way he misses her whenever she leaves Skyhold on Inquisition business. That is a gentle ache, with occasional pangs of anxiety. This was something else. A deep, gnawing chasm of pain and grief that he wasn't sure he'd ever overcome. That she's here now is nothing short of a miracle.

"I love you," he says, because the last time he said it she'd been dying and now she's alive, and he wants her to hear it again.

"I love you, too," she replies, lifting her head so she can press a kiss to his cheek, one hand sliding gradually free of the other at the back of his neck to stroke the side of his face. She never wants to be apart from him again, it was agony to think that he might be gone, even briefly.

"I'm proud of you. For not giving up."

He'd considered it. When he thought she was dead, it would've been so, so easy to just lie down and wait for his turn. Even now, he's not sure if he didn't do that because he was strong, or because he had the hope of seeing her again in the Capitol.

He doesn't say that aloud, though, just tightens his grip on her and sighs. "I never want to disappoint you," is what he says.

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here lies the abyss; open;

[The Roof]

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Common Area

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[D2 Suite]

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