Faith: Cassandra/Cullen Dragon Age: Inquisition, mild spoilers for the beginning of the game
#
Cassandra's long strides ate the distance swiftly, and every time her pacing brought her to one of the room's walls, she scowled at it and made a faintly disgusted noise under her breath, as though she could not believe it dared exist to impede her frustrated path. Under other circumstances, this noise might have made Cullen chuckle; he was fairly certain she had no idea how often she uttered it. Now, however, was not the time for laughter. The Conclave was no more; the Temple of Sacred Ashes was in ruins; the Divine was dead; and the only clue they had about any of it lay in a deep slumber they might never wake from, hand pulsing with green fire echoing the great tear in the sky above.
The next time Cassandra came face to face with the wall, her hand clenched into a fist as though she meant to strike the stones down, and Cullen cleared his throat, no less insistent for being gentle. "Seeker," he said. The emphasis on her position brought her around to face him instead of the wall. Her fingers did not relax. Spots of color burned high on her cheekbones, and her eyes flashed with irritated fire.
"What?"
"Breaking your hand won't give us answers."
With narrowed eyes and thinned lips and a slight flare of her nostrils, she took a step toward him. "You think me so foolish?"
"No," he said. "I think you frustrated. Angry. Grieving."
"I am fine."
He arched a brow in reply, and she tossed her head, huffing her irritated noise once more. Her hands released and clenched, released and clenched. Knowing the risk, he lunged out and grabbed them, cradling her fists in his larger hands. He said, "Do you remember what you told me, the day I was mad with withdrawal and begged you to kill me?"
He saw her jaw clench at the memory--he hardly blamed her; the sudden twisting sickness in his gut reminded him how close he'd come to giving up--but her fingers began to uncurl and her shoulders relaxed slightly. "I said, 'This is one day. Tomorrow will be another. Pull yourself together. You are stronger than this.'"
Even with the world going to the Void all around them, he did allow himself a smile at this. "Seeker. Cassandra. This is one day. Tomorrow will be another. Pull yourself together. You are stronger than this."
She snorted, tossing her head, but her palms touched his now, and her fingers curled loosely around his wrists. It was a bit of foolishness, perhaps--speaking of fools--but he lifted her right hand and bent his head, pressing a swift kiss to the back of her hand before he could think better of it, or convince himself how bad an idea it was.
She wore no gloves; her skin against his lips was unbearably soft. When he lifted his eyes, her expression echoed that softness, tinged ever so slightly with surprise. "Cullen," she said, lingering on each letter as though his name were unfamiliar to her, as if she hadn't spoken it a hundred thousand times. She'd never spoken it like this, though. Her cheeks were still pink; he felt his own heat in answer.
"You are the strongest person I know," Cullen said softly, straightening again. He loosened his hands in case she wanted to flee. She did not. "If anyone can lead us out of this madness, it's you."
She sighed, fingers squeezing him so briefly he thought he might have imagined the pressure. "Then we will hope your faith in me is justified."
A knock interrupted them, and Leliana entered without waiting for an invitation. Cassandra pulled her hands away and turned on her heel, all softness vanished as though it had never been. "The prisoner?" Cassandra asked.
"No change. I've had a message from the forward camp. More rifts."
"I'll go myself." Cullen nodded to each in turn. He paused in the doorway, though, and met Cassandra's eyes. "It is," he said. "You've proven that already."
She inclined her head, but not before he saw the ghost of a hard-won smile cross her lips.
Re: Cassandra/Cullen
Dragon Age: Inquisition, mild spoilers for the beginning of the game
#
Cassandra's long strides ate the distance swiftly, and every time her pacing brought her to one of the room's walls, she scowled at it and made a faintly disgusted noise under her breath, as though she could not believe it dared exist to impede her frustrated path. Under other circumstances, this noise might have made Cullen chuckle; he was fairly certain she had no idea how often she uttered it. Now, however, was not the time for laughter. The Conclave was no more; the Temple of Sacred Ashes was in ruins; the Divine was dead; and the only clue they had about any of it lay in a deep slumber they might never wake from, hand pulsing with green fire echoing the great tear in the sky above.
The next time Cassandra came face to face with the wall, her hand clenched into a fist as though she meant to strike the stones down, and Cullen cleared his throat, no less insistent for being gentle. "Seeker," he said. The emphasis on her position brought her around to face him instead of the wall. Her fingers did not relax. Spots of color burned high on her cheekbones, and her eyes flashed with irritated fire.
"What?"
"Breaking your hand won't give us answers."
With narrowed eyes and thinned lips and a slight flare of her nostrils, she took a step toward him. "You think me so foolish?"
"No," he said. "I think you frustrated. Angry. Grieving."
"I am fine."
He arched a brow in reply, and she tossed her head, huffing her irritated noise once more. Her hands released and clenched, released and clenched. Knowing the risk, he lunged out and grabbed them, cradling her fists in his larger hands. He said, "Do you remember what you told me, the day I was mad with withdrawal and begged you to kill me?"
He saw her jaw clench at the memory--he hardly blamed her; the sudden twisting sickness in his gut reminded him how close he'd come to giving up--but her fingers began to uncurl and her shoulders relaxed slightly. "I said, 'This is one day. Tomorrow will be another. Pull yourself together. You are stronger than this.'"
Even with the world going to the Void all around them, he did allow himself a smile at this. "Seeker. Cassandra. This is one day. Tomorrow will be another. Pull yourself together. You are stronger than this."
She snorted, tossing her head, but her palms touched his now, and her fingers curled loosely around his wrists. It was a bit of foolishness, perhaps--speaking of fools--but he lifted her right hand and bent his head, pressing a swift kiss to the back of her hand before he could think better of it, or convince himself how bad an idea it was.
She wore no gloves; her skin against his lips was unbearably soft. When he lifted his eyes, her expression echoed that softness, tinged ever so slightly with surprise. "Cullen," she said, lingering on each letter as though his name were unfamiliar to her, as if she hadn't spoken it a hundred thousand times. She'd never spoken it like this, though. Her cheeks were still pink; he felt his own heat in answer.
"You are the strongest person I know," Cullen said softly, straightening again. He loosened his hands in case she wanted to flee. She did not. "If anyone can lead us out of this madness, it's you."
She sighed, fingers squeezing him so briefly he thought he might have imagined the pressure. "Then we will hope your faith in me is justified."
A knock interrupted them, and Leliana entered without waiting for an invitation. Cassandra pulled her hands away and turned on her heel, all softness vanished as though it had never been. "The prisoner?" Cassandra asked.
"No change. I've had a message from the forward camp. More rifts."
"I'll go myself." Cullen nodded to each in turn. He paused in the doorway, though, and met Cassandra's eyes. "It is," he said. "You've proven that already."
She inclined her head, but not before he saw the ghost of a hard-won smile cross her lips.