freedom_is_grey | Don't call my name out loud

"In my head I know."

She'd been looking away from him, to give him privacy -- to give herself the illusion of it -- both?

Ysalwen looks back at him now, wiping impatiently at the last residual dampness on her cheeks.

Breathing.

Breathing.

"My heart -- I still know. I think. Justice -- he wouldn't have wanted that. What they made of each other. Anders -- "

She shakes her head, rubbing at her eyes with her hands for a second, scrubbing away -- something.

"If he'd asked me I would have told him. It wasn't like with -- the other time I saw it. They weren't -- they couldn't be united in purpose, not ever. It was always going to come to this. I just -- they were my friends. And it didn't change anything."

Ysalwen sniffs, eyes closing as she takes another breath.

"Well, it did. The Chantry didn't explode. Those people may not have died in the chaos, I can't be sure. But -- "

Protecting people from abuses of magic is why the Templar Order exists. It's beyond not the time to bring it up, but -- Ysa's had a look at the other side. What it's like.

His hand's on her shoulder again. "Can you tell me what did happen? From the beginning? Why you were in Kirkwall this time?"

None of this has shifted her opinion on training mages and templars together, in encouraging them to be friends.

It mattered that she cared about Anders specifically. Even if it hurts a fuck of a lot.

"There was an abandoned thaig nearby, and after conferring with Orzammar we sent out a party to investigate, make sure nothing horrible was lurking there. They went missing, but sent word that things were -- odd, to put it one way -- before they did."

She huffs out what might almost be a laugh.

"You'll love this. Nathaniel was leading the party that vanished."

Edited 2016-10-19 01:24 (UTC)

(That's the point: it hurts. And it has to be done, for the sake of everyone else, and there are the vows that make you swear to remember, always, that it's a thankless job.

But mages and templars can be friends.)

It's a bad situation when Cullen resorts to humor. Or a sorry attempt at it. "Give me some credit," he says lightly. "I wouldn't wish that on his facial hair. Or his person. -- he's well?"

It's the part where they've turned into jailers over the Ages that makes all the rest more difficult. And awful.

"A little banged up still, but -- "

Her expression falls for a moment, but she pulls it back up with some effort.

"Anders' clinic in Darktown is what saved him -- I'm glad we made it before he passed out. The others were less badly hurt. And after I shipped them off to the Hanged Man for beds for the night -- well. Anders said he needed to talk to me. And then -- "

Edited 2016-10-19 01:31 (UTC)

Cullen squeezes her shoulder. Waits. Listens.

She takes another breath, forcing her muscles to relax.

A second deep breath.

"He thought -- They knew I was angry. I've never really -- hidden that among friends, I don't think. We talked about it when he was under my command, in Amaranthine, before -- "

Before she was called away and he -- they -- left.

"He knew me. And he still thought -- they'd become so little themselves that they actually thought I would help. That's when I knew."

Cullen nods.

And says quiet, firm, sure:

"You would never."

The muscles in her shoulders relax further, but in her stomach a knot (of terror) tightens.

She musters up a faint smile, but it fades quickly.

"I know a spell. It's -- particularly effective against powerful mages. One cast and -- well. They die."

There's trust in the telling, here. A distant part of her hopes Cullen knows that.

"So. That's what I did."

Another, slightly shakier breath.

"And then I went to find Zevran and Sigrun and send them into the Chantry to smuggle out the explosives and powders Anders had put there. Which they did, but -- not before someone stumbled on them. Rumors spread that mages had put it there -- I still don't know if that was another part of the plan, or just -- what happens with people."

There's trust, in her telling him that. He knows. He knew she was powerful; he knew her talents were oriented toward that kind of magic.

So he doesn't react to that. Instead: "I think it's just... something that happened. He wouldn't have asked for your help if everything were planned out to that extent."

Another way to say you can't see signs that aren't there, this isn't your fault.

She drops her gaze again for a moment, nodding the tiniest fraction.

He's right. She wishes he weren't, but --

So it goes.

(There are a great many nightmares in her future, she can tell that now.)

"I didn't really see what happened next, but a mob swarmed on the Gallows, and the templars went too, to make sure people were safe, and then -- I don't know if Elthina passed out, or had a fit, or -- what, but she was down suddenly and there was screaming about how a mage did it, and then it seemed like everything snapped at once and it was just -- blood."

There's a detachment in her voice, now, gaze gone distant at the memory.

"Fire, too, later. We tried -- we tried to funnel noncombatants out, and it worked for a while, but panic doesn't allow for too much control of traffic flow. The only mages that seemed to be surviving were those using blood magic, until even that wasn't enough and -- "

She shivers.

"He used their corpses. All of them. We had to burn him down to ashes to make him stop."

"First Enchanter Orsino, you mean?"

Cullen's careful to keep his voice even, his manner calm.

"That much is the same."

"I -- suspect so? I never met him, so -- "

She exhales again.

"Somewhere in all of that -- Knight-Commander Meredith snapped and started animating statues. That was -- "

A swallow.

"I didn't know anyone could do that. But her eyes were red and -- it was bad. You know."

A soft huff of breath -- nearly amused, despite everything.

"Yes." Gently. "I'm well aware."

She twists her arm to rest her hand on top of his, where it rests on her shoulder.

Just for a second.

"Y -- the Knight-Captain -- um -- let us go -- the Champion, too -- and we all found ourselves on Isabela's boat and on our way out of town. It -- seemed best. I wasn't particularly -- discreet during the battles, and I -- I didn't want to make anyone more afraid. Sarai was caught in the middle, with plenty of people loosely out for her head, so."

She swallows.

"I thought I would see if any of Amaranthine's more knowledgeable builders and apothecaries and the like would -- want to take a trip. Back to Kirkwall. I -- enabling that is -- I can't think of any other way to help, and it -- should I have stayed? Only -- "

"No." He shakes his head swiftly. "No, it's -- in that situation, with that kind of focused anger, you don't need to be there. Let the city guard help sort things out. Aveline's good -- she'll do the right thing. Keep in touch with her, see what she needs in the coming days. There's nothing more you can do at the moment."

Cullen squeezes her shoulder. "You did the right thing, and for now your part is over. Take a moment, rest first, and when you're back in Amaranthine... take action. You might consider contacting Alistair -- your Alistair -- to see if he'd be willing to lend resources for resettlement. But rest comes first."

Ysalwen leans into the hand on her shoulder a little, looking up at him with a slight quirk to one corner of her mouth.

"You know I'm horrible at letting other people do anything on their own."

A huff of breath that isn't at all a laugh.

"But I could really use some rest. Not sleep, just now, but -- "

"I know."

A little rueful. "Believe me. I know. Can I tell you something? Are you -- would you hear it right now?"

She swallows, brow furrowing as she thinks about that.

It's --

Well --

"I think numbness is setting in, so if you're worried about my reactions, now is probably one of the better times to say whatever it is?"

(That, and almost anything would be a welcome distraction from the horror show behind her eyes.)

"You need to understand," he says, slowly, holding both her shoulders now, "that you saved hundreds of lives today. The Chantry didn't explode. Debris didn't scatter all over the city. People weren't crushed in their homes or trapped places they couldn't escape. That would have happened. And it didn't. Because of you."

"Oh."

It's quiet, out here in the dark.

Maybe, for just a moment, the inside of her head is quiet, too.

"I -- "

Her eyes are damp again, but it hurts less, somehow. Or maybe just differently.

"I -- "

What does one say to that?

"Can we sit down? I think -- I think I would really like to sit. Or you can hold me up. That's fine, too."

As of this moment Cullen is the only still point in a rapidly spinning world. Relief is -- even partial relief is a very strange drug.

Cullen laughs a little, short and quiet, and folds her into another hug.

Light: "Not to mention you saved my counterpart a considerable headache, trying to clean up after all that. I realize that's not the important part... and yet."

This hug is much less damp than the last one, because Ysa is not attempting to breathe deeply through a wash of tears.

"Every little bit helps."

Another huff of breath that isn't quite laughter.

"Which -- it does. I forget sometimes, especially when -- well. Thank you."

"Especially when everything's still awful," he finishes, rueful. "I know." He tightens his arms for a moment.

"Just... remember that, all right? It's important."

She tightens her own grip in return, holding on for a few seconds and then relaxing, all at once.

"I will if you will," Ysalwen mutters into a faceful of fur.

"I promise."

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