romdeau | a fishing date;

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a fishing date;

There were no impromptu trips to Sundermount, in fact. Merrill had holed herself up with the Eluvian, avoiding Hawke whenever possible. The Arulin'Holm stayed at the estate, locked away somewhere, and the Dalish woman didn't want to see or hear from Hawke without good cause. Which was understandable (upsetting, but understandable), and she let Varric and Isabela take over Merrill's undertaking. They'd update her whenever possible and she was infinitely grateful, though she knew things couldn't stay that way forever. Eventually, they'd need to talk, and that would happen when Marian was good and ready. For now, she wasn't.

First on her mind was Anders and his mage underground. He would disappear for days on end, surfacing only to work in his clinic where he would refuse to go on any errands. Too busy, he'd say, occupied with his patients and his manifesto. It didn't stop him from pressing worn papers into her hands at every opportunity, the bastard. Her desk was full of Anders' scrawl, damning evidence if anyone should walk in and ask about it. She'd been certain to lock them in the bottom drawer, out of sight and out of mind, but she couldn't put him off any more than she could push aside the trouble she had with Merrill.

With her hands full of Kirkwall's smaller troubles - bandits, a few raiders on the outskirts, and a blood mage or two - she had nearly forgotten her plans with Cullen until she returned one night to a note on her desk at the end of the week. Even such a simple thing was enough to brighten her mood considerably and she packed that evening, though she wasn't to meet him for two more days.

She used the time to tell only a few that she'd be gone from the city, that no one was kidnapping her, and that she'd be very cross if she came back to find Kirkwall burning in her absence. Only Isabela and Varric gave her a hard time for her attempts at discretion, asking for details and gaining nothing.

By sunset on the second day, she was down by the docks to meet him, a pack slung over one arm and her blades across her shoulders, her eyes on the ships and the few workers lingering around. She couldn't be too careful, even now.

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She laughed. "Too busy doing your job? I don't know if I've ever worn one around you. It's a little silly to be wearing armored skirts in a mine or in the city." She wore whatever she needed to until the expedition. She didn't have the coin for a full wardrobe.

"Flatterer." It earned him a smirk and a bit of pink on her neck. "We would both be looking down our noses at our countrymen and we wouldn't give each other another glance. Unless, of course, I'd been born with magic." And that wouldn't have been the sort of attention she wanted. "Much better this way, I agree. Besides, Ferelden is a better place to grow up in."

"That's likely. Or I could pretend to take the high road and say I just look at your face when you come talk to me." That was a good enough story that he thought he's stick to it even if pressed. He stood to fetch himself the ale, the boat rocking a little with his steps.

"That's...a very realistic assessment on all counts." He shook the bottle slightly and held it out, silent query as to whether she wanted one, too. "I'm glad I grew up in Ferelden. There are certainly worse places to live than Denerim as a child."

Isabela had made a comment or two of that nature in passing once. "You do look at my face when we're speaking. When I walk away is a different story." Two could play at that game. She stretched out when he stood and took another bite of her food. "I might have imagined you out of armor once or twice when we talk."

She nodded when he offered her an ale and she stood to take it. "Or Lothering. All things considered, I think I lucked out." There were worse situations to be in. "We could be living in Darktown."

Then it's the back of your head," he said. He might have managed to escape flush free had she not added that last bit. "Now I'll be wondering what you're really thinking the next time we're discussing the latest crisis of the day in the Gallows." Now she also knew what he looked like under the armor.

He passed off the ale and retrieved himself another bottle. "All it would have taken were slightly different circumstances." The teasing light left his eyes. "I considered leaving the order when I was in Greenfell. If I had, I would have arrived in Kirkwall as a refugee, not a Templar. There are people here who count Darktown a lucky find. A scrap of cloth on which they can lay their head."

Edited 2012-09-14 00:15 (UTC)

That blush was terribly endearing. She'd need to remember not to force it too often or he might start cottoning on to her mild tricks. She smiled innocently when he turned back to her "Oh, Cullen. If we lock eyes, you won't need to wonder what I'm thinking. You'll know."

She stopped on her way back to the bench, turning back. "You almost left the order?" It was surprising but...could he be blamed for wanting to, after what he'd gone through? Would anyone have wanted to stay in a position that invoked terrible memories time after time? "I can't imagine it, honestly. And even if you ended up as a refugee, I have a hard time believing you wouldn't be doing something. Maybe you'd be Champion instead of me." Her smile was small and crooked. "When you weren't trying to get Anders arrested, anyway."

"Maker help me now," he laughed. He had been the recipient of enough of her smoldering looks tonight to know he didn't have a prayer if she started that with him in the Gallows. "You'll have me looking for excuses to take long lunch breaks. It's all downhill from there."

He nodded. "I was feeling...pretty low. Gregoir made it clear that he viewed me as a liability when he sent me to get some 'rest'. I wondered if he wasn't right. But I guess I'm more stubborn than that." He worked the cork free of his bottle and tossed it over the side. "Without lyrium? No. I'd have wound up begging dust if I survived the withdrawals. I'm almost sure of it." He took a long swallow of his ale. He resisted the urge to return to the topic of Anders. She knew how he felt and what his concerns were. Anything more would be excessive.

She couldn't contain the laughter bubbling up. She chuckled, grateful she wasn't drinking. "Oh, it won't be so bad at first. I'll go easy on you. I'll come along in that armored skirt one day when you're least expecting it, though. It's all downhill from that point."

A twist of her hand freed the cork from her own drink and she sipped it while he spoke. "I suppose we would have met eventually, sooner or later." The frightening part of that, though, was that she was nearly certain she would have at least tried to take him in like she had with her other companions, even if she hadn't the foggiest idea how to deal with lyrium addiction. "It's strange to say I'm grateful you're a Templar," she said thoughtfully, frowning briefly at her drink. She'd been glad before that he'd been around the Gallows, certainly, but saying it under new context brought a different weight to the words.

"I'll know that's the day to expect trouble," he said, eyes still twinkling amusement. "The moment I see the skirt."

He nodded. There was a good chance she was right. She'd have run into him in Lowtown or Darktown. He probably would have found himself begging coin off of her. There was a depressing thought. "I bet it is given our history." He returned to take a seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. "I'm glad I didn't make a stupid decision at a low point. I think all of us have at least one of those moments in our lives, when paths could diverge widely."

"I agree with you. All of us have those moments at some point." She'd seen it in Isabela's eyes when she wanted to run with the relic, in Varric's when he found Bartrand again. And she'd thought, briefly, about leaving Kirkwall after her mother died. She could have left everything behind.

"I don't know if it would have been a stupid decision if you'd have left," she said, turning to him. "It certainly wouldn't have been a fortuitous decision...but you were understandably still hurting from what happened in Ferelden. I don't think anyone would have faulted you for leaving, had you chosen to."

"There wasn't anyone left to care one way or the other except Gregoir. At the time all I saw was his judgment because it so mirrored my own. It's only later in my career that I've come to understand his point of view and that there was likely far less contempt than I imagined and far more concern." He glanced at her. "I think it would have been stupid given the alternative."

He leaned against the mast, twisting one boot toe this way and that in a flex of ankle and calf muscles. "I'll always be grateful to Meredith for believing in me when I couldn't. Despite difficulties she has been a good mentor. A friend in a place I expected none."

It was difficult to reconcile her view of Meredith with Cullen's when he spoke highly of her. The respect he had paralleled hers easily, but she was also aware of Meredith's harsher hand when it came to mages. For his sake, she kept her opinion to herself, though it wasn't difficult for her to at least feel grateful that the Knight-Commander had been there for Cullen. Even if there was nothing between them, it was still kind of her to look after a fellow countryman and decent Templar, especially in his time of need.

She nodded as she nursed her drink. "She means a great deal to you." As both a friend and an ally in a city that was probably hostile to him. "How quickly were you promoted to Knight-Captain after you arrived? I had only been in Kirkwall a year, myself, when I met you and you'd already had the position."

"She does. In many ways she is exactly what I believe a Templar should be, and if she exceeds her reach in some respects, I can forgive her the failing given what I know." He rolled his bottle slowly between his hands. It was getting more difficult to say that with conviction. Although his faith in her had taken a battering of late, it still held.

He looked down at the planks between his feet. "I've heard my rise in the Kirkwall ranks described as meteoric. It's...not an exaggeration. I...questioned...the wisdom of it, openly. You've met her." He glanced at her. "When she's insistent, it's difficult to argue. She knew she wasn't promoting a yes man, but she also knew that I understood her position and would do what it took to shore it. She said my experiences had tempered me, not broken me."

He lifted his head then and met her gaze. "She was right. I had my share of naysayers in the ranks. Some went so far as to accuse me of sleeping my way to my office." He pressed his lips together. "Meredith didn't quell those rumors or doubts. I did. I don't think I could have without knowing she believed in me that strongly. When someone like Meredith believes in you? What's doubt?" He chuffed a soft sound.

There was a fine line between exceeding the reach of someone's power and extending so far as to take all of it for themselves. Some days, she was afraid that Meredith was going to do the latter. She walked a very thin rope when it came to that situation, especially after the Viscount's death. Perhaps she should have been fairer to the woman, but even she could see the problems that could arise with the Knight-Commander taking control of the Viscount's seat.

She paused before taking a drink to nod in agreement. "Meteoric would possibly be an understatement," she said gently with a small riddle of a smile on her lips. She had the idea that he had been something of a barely tempered blade when he had arrived in Kirkwall, something Meredith saw as a perfect ally at the time. Like minds would gravitate towards one another; he would agree with her and balance her. It was a good decision on her part.

Her fingers tapped against her ale in thought and she took a long drink. "What's doubt when you have one of the strongest individuals in the city at your back?" she agreed. "And I don't just mean that because she's the Knight-Commander." Meredith was an intense individual in her own right.

He nodded. "There was a lot of resentment at first. I had an uphill fight on my hands." He didn't seem as though he resented the fact. He had expected it. Promotions like that didn't happen without people doubting and talking.

"No, her rank...that has nothing to do with what I meant," he agreed. Meredith wasn't the sort who was supportive for empathy's sake alone. If she hadn't believed him up to the task or useful, he wouldn't have received the time of day from her. He knew that.

"It helped a lot, having someone see me in a way I had a hard time seeing myself. Eventually, I didn't need that any more. I'm still grateful. I doubt I need to tell you what that's like. You've gained the admiration of an impressive array of people difficult to impress in your time in Kirkwall, well before this Champion business."

"She's just that sort of person. When she says something, you believe it." A testament to Meredith's personal strength. It wouldn't have been the same at all if she was a frequently empathetic person.

She shook her head. "Your strength is your own. She knew you'd rise to the occasion if you just believed in yourself. I'm glad she gave you the promotion; you're a more responsible and dedicated individual than many of the others who could have had the title." The thought of Ser Alrik ever having that sort of power made her bristle. "You made the title worth the admiration of others."

"Yes, exactly so," he said. It was a relief to hear someone he respected say something in Meredith's favor. The criticism had grown through the years to the point that at times he wondered if what he thought he still saw was really there at all or if he wasn't blinded by his own gratitude and loyalty. It was a disturbing thought. Nightmares weren't the only thing that sometimes kept him awake at night.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence. I truly do." It meant even more coming from someone he was almost certain had hated him at one point. "And I try. That's not going to change. For all of its flaws, Kirkwall is home now." Perhaps his reasons for feeling that way had room to expand. He glanced at her from the sides of his eyes and took another swallow of his ale. That thought disturbed his equilibrium to a degree, unbidden and out of the blue as it had come.

"When she was there in Hightown during the Qunari attack, she rescued my companions and I from a Saarebas on her own. She took its head off without batting an eye." At the time, she'd only been awestruck and grateful for the assiassistance. It hadn't been until later, days after the fact, that she'd imagined the downward stroke of the sword might have been used on plenty of other mages before that one. It didn't diminish her respect for the woman but it did remind her that there was a reason why she was feared.

One eyebrow rose in curiosity as she took another swig of her drink. She couldn't read the look in his eyes, even if she met his gaze easily. "Do you think you'll never go back to Ferelden? Not even to visit?"

"That was a crazy night, people being dragged away, others killed. I was grateful the Qunari look so differently from the rest of us. It made it easier to know who you were attacking in the darkness, at least," he said. He recalled Meredith's account to him later about the meeting and everything that transpired afterward. She had been genuinely impressed with Hawke, if not uneasy about her choices in friends.

"I'm not sure if there's anything for me to go back to. I don't know. I haven't given it much thought since coming here. I was so focused then on putting everything behind me, and I've been so busy since then. What do you think you would have done if you hadn't been forced to leave Lothering? What might you be doing now?"

She nodded. "One point in our favor. Aveline and I were right there when the Arishok gave the order. I was afraid the fighting and destruction would be so bad that we'd be stuck at the docks for too long." And then Aveline's men and the nobles might have perished, hoping for help. Or perhaps Meredith and Orsino might have managed.

"Nothing so grand as what I do here, I assure you," she joked, a faint smile on her face. Ironically, her next sip of ale left a more somber expression on her face. "I don't know what I'd be doing. Maintaining our tiny home? Running from Templars again to protect Bethany? Killing giant spiders? We had a spider problem, you know." She was left shrugging with uncertainty. "Small things. A quiet little life looking out for my family."

"I'd say it's a miracle you got out of there, except that I don't lay those kinds of odds when it comes to either of you." Hawke or Aveline alone were forces to be reckoned with. Together they managed things that kept them the talk of the city in different ways.

"I had heard that about Lothering, believe it or not. It must have been a Void of a spider problem for word to reach us all the way at the Hold." He couldn't remember how he had heard it or in what context, likely talk from Templars who traveled there on duty. "I feel like I can't say that would have been...a waste of talent without delivering some sort of unintended insult, but I genuinely believe that. I suppose it's testimony to how good things can come from bad."

"Nothing stops Aveline. Not darkspawn, not the undead, not Qunari." There was pride there, in her tone and in her small smile. She might get on Aveline's had side and get an iron cuff to the back of her neck every now and then, but she would always have her back. "When I met her, she tackled a darkspawn, beat it in the face, and then take off its head. She's every bit as fearsome a fighter as Meredith to me."

She chuckled. "Large, nasty things. As bad as the ones on the Coast." She stretched out her legs and rolled her shoulders back. "Kirkwall saved me from a droll life in a quiet town and it's taken just as much as it's given me. But it's where my home is now until I have reason to leave."

Edited 2012-09-16 04:04 (UTC)

"I can believe it easily," he said. "And I can't disagree with you. The Guard-Captain is highly impressive."

He gave a light shudder. "Have I mentioned I hate those spiders?" He would rather fight wolves and bears, even undead, rather than the large arachnids. He couldn't begin to catalog the reasons why. There were far too many.

"It has taken from you, yes," he said a little more quietly. He knew that he was part of that, like it or not and for better or worse. He tipped his bottle neck toward hers. "Here's hoping you don't have any reason to leave any time too soon. I think I've gotten more than a little used to having you around. I would have said that before the dates, too."

She laughed softly. "You make it sound as if someone likes the blighted things. I have it on good authority that no one does...except that man in the Gallows who needs their webbing for Maker knows what." And he still didn't like dealing with them himself.

After a pause, she met him halfway to touch bottles, neck to neck. Her smile was small but no less genuine. "Flatterer. Have no fear; I won't be leaving Kirkwall anytime soon. You'll be seeing me around for some time yet if I have anything to say about it." After all, Bethany wasn't going anywhere. She at least had one reason, if nothing else, to stick around...though she'd be lying if she said it was her only motivation to remain.

"Sol?" He chuckled. "I'll give him this. He's dedicated to his craft. It means he doesn't get out much, but anything you bring him will be put to good use."

His smile lingered and he took a long swallow of the ale. "Good. I plan on holding you to that, Sera." He settled a little further down and stretched his legs out, looking up at the star speckled sky. His head rested against the mast behind him, and he let out a sound of contentment. His limbs felt heavy and relaxed, both from their previous activity and the alcohol. He took the last bite of his cheese and licked his finger free of a couple of little crumbs.

"Oh, he's very good at what he does. I simply wish I didn't need to cut through spiders and dragons to get what he needs." And, frankly, she was fairly curious to see how he worked, what he did to create his more unique items. But that was probably just her.

Her smile curved at the edges. "If I skip off somewhere without word for far too long, you have permission to kick me when I return. Maker knows my sister would cuff me at the very least for it."

She contented herself to finishing her ale and then standing once more to walk the short length of the boat. Her eyes roamed over him once until they settled on the other bottles at his feet. She couldn't help her grin. "Anyone who gets a look into this boat is going to think we drowned ourselves in liquor." Which couldn't be further from the truth, she realized, as she glanced over the side where they had let out their bait traps.

You're sweet. :( We'll see what the status is when I actually get home.

I'll keep my fingers crossed for you. Sorry you have to deal with this. :(

Thanks!

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So far so good! We'll see what happens tomorrow, though.

I'll cross my toes, too!

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