riverviewlogs | And all the while it's all evasion

Despite everything with Cullen – Serah Rutherford – being complicated in a myriad of ways that sometimes she didn’t mind at all, she still knows him. Even if she doesn’t know this particular version. She knows how he throws himself into work, how he overworks. And she knows what he’s going through, unless things are different enough between their worlds that he isn’t.

She suspects they aren’t, though.

It had taken her a little time to find what she needed, but once she had it had taken her no time at all. The jar of salve is a little bit larger than what she usually makes, but it should be enough to last him a while. Should he choose to use it; she’s not the Inquisitor he’s used to, so she doesn’t know if he will. She can (and will), make more if it’s needed. She’s used it herself a time or two, after a particularly gruelling battle, so she’s made some extra to keep on hand for her own use, and Dorian’s should he need it.

Not that there’s much in the way of gruelling battles, here, but you never know. And it’s a familiar smell. Which is nice.

She’s on her way to the gym, dressed for comfort and ease of movement (with her blades carefully hidden under her leather jacket), her omnipresent fingerless gloves hiding the green glow of the Anchor on her left hand when she makes her way to the barracks searching for him. If he’s not there perhaps she can convince someone to show her to his room so she can leave it for him.

That... might be for the best, honestly.

Despite her better judgement, she’s attached a note to it so he knows what it’s for. And who it’s from, technically. Not that she’s sure that will help matters. The note is simple, and to the point.

Use this. It'll help with your aches.

I.

Sadly for her, Cullen is still the only person crazy enough to live in the barracks. And, oddly enough, he enjoys the peace. However, it's not that hard to discover which room is his, since the doors to most of the rooms are open and bare. His door is shut and secured, but should she try to enter, it won't pose much trouble to open it and leave the jar inside.

He hasn't really decorated his room, but there are a few signs that someone lives there. A book is on the nightstand near one of the two beds, a chair has a few pieces of clothes that are folded neatly on the seat, and his familiar shield is propped up by the door. It's less chaotic than his office and living quarters back in Skyhold, but it's also lacking a certain atmosphere that he'd grown accustomed to as well.

When Cullen enters the barracks, the door is quiet behind him and his steps are muffled by the soft carpeting that line the halls. It's not surprising to find it mostly vacant of others at this time of day. What is surprising is that his door is open and there is someone in his personal space.

"Milady Herald, to what do I owe the honor?"

With as quiet and empty as the barracks are, Iona finds it all too easy to find his room and slip inside. (Locked doors have never been much of a deterrent for her, after all.) He’s apparently the only person living there. Probably makes it a touch more peaceful than Skyhold. She’s just moving to set the jar down on the nightstand by the book when she hears the faint sound of footsteps, and an all too familiar voice.

Andraste’s tits.

She’d been so close to just leaving the jar of salve for him and leaving. With the jar still held carefully in her hands she turns toward him with a wry grin. “Serah Rutherford, you have impeccable timing.” It looks as though she’s giving it to him in person, then. Although a part of her is wondering if she couldn’t simply shove the jar at him and dart towards the door. “I have something for you.”

Edited 2018-04-01 23:26 (UTC)

He leans against the doorway and clasps his hands together as he smiles at her reaction. It's obvious that she was hoping to escape, but the fact that she doesn't know his schedule means she's been caught.

"I've heard that a time or two, I must admit." He looks down at the jar she's grasping and then back at her. "I wasn't aware we were at the gift-giving stage in our relationship. I fear I've nothing for you."

She’s already making a mental note to do more research. No more delivering jars of salve until she knows his schedule better. (Time to make friends with his co-workers for information.) That way she can avoid his catching her breaking into his room. There’s a soft, irritated huff at the way he smiles at her reaction (but what irritates her more than the smile is the fact that her first thought is kissing that bloody smile off his face).

“Well, it’s only fair that the gift giving is a bit one-sided for the moment, isn’t it? After all I’ve known you a fair sight longer than you’ve known me.” Her smirk is cheeky, as she gently pushes the jar into his chest. “Considering your tendency to overwork yourself, I thought you could use it. It’ll help with aches and pains.”

What? And miss getting to talk to him like this? He'd be rather insulted to know that she wants to stay away from him. After his talk with Dorian, he's been going over how their previous interactions have gone and he...knows himself better than most people would give him credit for.

That smirk might be cheeky, but it's also endearing. As is the gift.

"That doesn't mean that it should always stay like that, Mistress Lavellan, does it?"

His voice is quiet as he contemplates what a thoughtful gift it is and what it could mean. There is a good chance that he might be looking more into that she means. Neither she nor Dorian have said anything about her relationships in either the Quarantine or in their particular version of Thedas. Friends she might be with the Cullen Rutherford she knows, but he himself is confused every time he's with her.

"Just how close are we then?"

He's only told Mahanon and Cassandra out of necessity and only because he trusts them both with his life.

No, she doesn’t want to stay away from him. That’s half the problem. But she thinks she probably should. Keep a little distance. At the very least when it comes to delivering the salve she’s making to aid his withdrawal aches. It’s a delicate thing, knowing more about him than he knows about her.

“No,” she tells him softly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

It’s a dangerous, complicated thing, with him. She is attracted. Far too fucking attracted to him. Not that she hasn’t always been, to some degree (he is an incredibly attractive man, in a multitude of ways), but it’s complicated, here. With him. As much as she’s flirted and bantered with the Cullen she knows (more banter than flirting, truth be told)... she’s been worse with Serah Rutherford.

“We’re friends. And I suppose you trust me, although you’ve never said it outright. You certainly act as though you do.” She wouldn’t know what she knows of him if he didn’t, she’s quite sure.

Maker help him, it's been ages since he's thought about a woman as more than just another person, remembered that he's allowed to have a life now that he's not bound by the Order's rules. And he's tried to think about how she affects him, but he doesn't dislike their flirty banter one bit.

"Then perhaps there's time for me to return the favor."

For as many times as they've met, he realizes that he can close the distance and... But he won't. Flirting is not permission, after all.

"Trust isn't something you say one has earned. It just... is." Even as he says the words, he knows the truth behind them. "So, I will just have to take a cue from the Cullen you and Dorian know. And perhaps from Dorian as well."

The temptation to close the distance between them is annoyingly intense, but she resists, refrains from indulging. Refrains from giving in. She tilts her head curiously at him, as he speaks of returning the favour.

His next words are the ones that catch her by surprise, though. “I don’t expect you to trust me immediately, Serah Rutherford,” she replies, voice soft and thoughtful. “You don’t know me in the slightest, and I don’t expect my knowing you in our Thedas to replace my actually earning your trust.” She doesn’t know if he feels any, but she’s doing her best to release him from any obligations he might feel he has. “Dorian is horribly biased in my favour, after all.” There’s a flicker of a smirk across her lips as she says it.

He smiles, slow and almost smug.

"Yes, Dorian's opinion might be biased, but I am aware of how difficult it is to earn that sort of bias. I've seen first-hand the sort of things he's willing to do for those who support him as well. So, let's just say that I'm swayed by his bias a little but not completely."

He's not so stupid as to miss the fact that she's trying to give him some sort of out. However, he doesn't know many people here and he's not exactly the type to just make friends out of the gate. (He's not like his other friends and acquaintances back in Thedas. Nor is he as likable as another famous former Templar since he's being honest with himself.)

"However, if you think you must earn my trust, I would say that anyone dedicated to helping others makes it easier than you imagine. And unlike Cassandra, I won't expect you to run into a dangerous situation to prove yourself."

There’s no hiding her fondness for Dorian, even if she wanted to. And she doesn’t. “He’s a good friend.” Which is, of course, putting their relationship mildly. He’s her best friend. But he’s more than that, too. She’s never had a brother, before. But he is hers.

“Which I appreciate,” she tells him with a grin, “because I suspect there are far less dangerous situations here than there are in Thedas. Certainly none quite so... consuming.”

It's good that she doesn't hold back her fondness for Dorian. For all the sniping that he and the Tevene do with one another, he respects the man a great deal. Not only is he a damn fine mage, but he has managed to get where he is by being the opposite of what most people would consider a typical Tevinter mage and/or Magister. And it's nice (and sort of sad) to know that he can still surprise his friend by being a human being in regards to Southern mages. "So he's proven over the last year, yes."

Even if he's still a shit sometimes.

"Cassandra is a fine woman, but she does happen to need grand gestures." Cullen shakes his head as he remembers what Mahanon had to do to win over the Seeker's heart. "In all things. I'd like to believe I'm less of an extremist."

“Yes well, it did make for a bit of clashing, in the beginning.” She does like Cassandra. Even considers the woman a friend. But she can be... frustrating, at times. “Being expected to make a grand gesture for complete bloody strangers after waking up lacking a not inconsiderable bit of memory might have led me to be a bit...” she smirks at Cullen. “Impolite.” The being chastised for arming herself in a dangerous situation hadn’t helped matters. “I’ve certainly found you to be.”

"You would not be the first to clash with her. She, Leliana, Josephine and myself are all what you would call 'strong personalities'. It makes for headaches." Which he doesn't care for at all.

"Impolite, yes. That's certainly one way to spin the story, if you're Josephine. If you must know, Mahanon told her in the beginning that he was going to help but he would not be abused, verbally or otherwise. I think she respected him more after that."

“Oh I have NO DOUBT.” She laughs. “And I am well aware. I’ve spent enough time with the four of you to be... rather familiar with all of your strong personalities.” Although she likes her three advisors more than Cassandra, quite possibly. Strong personalities or not. Because her first meetings with them were a bit less fraught with confrontation, perhaps.

“A man after my own heart.” It hurts a little less, now, hearing about his Inquisitor. Although it makes sense. Some time has passed, since she first learned of him. ~~The damage has already been done.~~

"I would imagine that is true." Considering how much time Mahanon had spent with his Inquisition advisors, it only makes sense that it would be true for another Inquisitor. No one person could take care of everything that had to be done by themselves. Not while out in the field. And no one as smart as she is would ignore the wealth of experience that he and the others represent.

"Hopefully, you and he don't share the exact same tastes." For many reasons, but mainly because he doesn't think Cassandra would find that truly flattering. ~~And while he likes the man he calls friend, Cullen doesn't want to bed him.~~

No, she couldn’t. Particularly after Adamant. But even before, ignoring their wealth of knowledge would have been a blisteringly stupid move. No, she knows too well the sort of power knowledge can have, and given the range of what her advisors know... She’ll continue to spend all the time with them required of her.

Were Iona to learn that Cullen’s Inquisitor was bedding Cassandra she would burst into laughter and reassure him that no, she had never contemplated such a thing. ~~No, her tastes seem to tend more towards the taller. And amber-eyed. With curly hair.~~ “I suspect we don’t,” she tells him, amused. “There’s an entire world’s worth of difference between us, after all. Despite the similarities our worlds might share.”

Like he said, she is smart enough to use the tools around her. And, yes, he is a tool to be wielded by the right person, much like Leliana's secrets and Josephine's sugary words. Although, one of her advisors might appreciate the time spend with her a bit more than the others. ~~If he's not a blithering idiot.~~

What oddly specific tastes Iona has.

"Yes, there is, but perhaps that is for the best. At least for now."

He takes the pot from her hands and places it on the table by he door.

"Thank you for thinking about me. I appreciate the effort. Is there anything I can do for you in return?"

And all the while it's all evasion

And I've moved further than I thought I could ➤ THE BARRACKS

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