walking down the trousers of time

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen is standing by the fireplace, cloak in hand, half-turning to go out the back door and then turning back, scanning the crowd as if looking for something.

Or someone.

Liranan, too, is practically vibrating in place.

Taking cues from your person can be a difficult thing to bear, for a mabari.

He cannot make this better!

Comments

[howtoactfereldan]

"Well." He clears his throat. "I'll... endeavor not to be lost, then."

[freedom_is_grey]

"Good. I mean. Um."

Right.

"I have faith that you'll manage it. If anyone can."

[howtoactfereldan]

"We'll find out, won't we," he says, with a lightness he doesn't feel. "I'll -- ask Cassandra to keep you informed. If I can't manage it."

[freedom_is_grey]

"Thank you. I -- "

She falls silent, tightening her grip on his hand instead.

Just a little.

"Hopefully it isn't necessary. But -- "

It might be. They both know that.

[howtoactfereldan]

It's easier, if he has to keep it together for someone else.

Gently: "Hence arrangements."

[freedom_is_grey]

"Yes."

Her smile is crooked, but her eyes are dry.

(For now.)

"I understand."

But --

She reaches out her hand to hover it over his stack of books about lyrium.

"Since we're here -- do you mind?"

[howtoactfereldan]

"Maker's breath, no," Cullen says, with a huff of breath that isn't quite a laugh. "Let's see what we can figure out."

[freedom_is_grey]

She doesn't salute, just turns to the book she pulled off the top of his pile and begins reading.

And taking notes.

Regardless of what they find, Liranan is going to interrupt them in a few hours to make sure they eat.

And stay hydrated.

Ysalwen, at least, will not be at all surprised.