thearena | here there be...

Who| Cullen and YOU???
What| Cullen arrives, disoriented and completely out of his element, in the arena. No doubt, he'll find trouble quickly.
Where| Anywhere around the spaceport, probably. We can make it work.
When| Week 2?
Warnings/Notes| Uhhh nothing yet, probably violence?

This is nothing like anything Cullen knows. From the ridiculous clothing - even a man as accustomed to wearing armor as he is would have difficulty moving in the large, bulky - thing he was in. To the strange architecture all of metal, and the space - the stars, a sky so unfamiliar to Cullen as to be alien.

With no weapon at his side, he feels naked, vulnerable. His mind immediately suggests demons, because there is simply nothing else in his experience. He doesn't believe what he was told on first arrival - it is far, far too easy for demons to trick the mind, as he knows all too well.

He moves carefully, his senses alert - even if he hadn't been told that this was some sort of barbaric blood sport, the environment alone would put him on edge.

"Maker preserve me," he mutters, and it's less a curse and more an actual prayer.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's dark here. Dark and dangerous, and there's so much despair that it presses in on him as if it had a physical weight. Cole doesn't know why he wanders, or where. He only knows that he ought to follow the pain, to help where he can. In the shadows of the space port, it's almost as if he's truly a spirit. He's light on his feet, silent as he combs his way through. Every once in a while, he'll stop to peer out the windows, momentarily distracted by the stars. If they're real - they might not be. There's always a chance.

They're beautiful, though. So different from how they look in Thedas. He's looking at them when he hears the sound of a familiar voice. Thought. It's Cullen, he knows. Not like the other Templars. Soft edges to their jagged fear. There's room for mercy in his heart where there wasn't with the others, when the fear presses in and pushes everything out. The lyrium calls for him no longer.

When he appears next to him, it'll be like he materialized out of thin air. Silent and sudden, a ghost in the darkness.

"Cullen."

The suddenness of a voice saying his name in such a strange place has Cullen starting, grabbing for the sword that isn't there, his heart in his throat. He can be forgiven, perhaps, for finding it all so unnerving. He has, after all, had his reality warped and twisted around him before, simply to manipulate him.

"Cole?" Maker's breath, is it really - or is it some illusion? If it's meant to be comforting, there are certainly other people Cullen would find far easier to deal with, but at this point anyone recognizable is part relief - and part fear. It doesn't help much that he knows Cole to be a Fade spirit - not a demon, his mind repeats, though he was certainly skeptical at first. "Is that you?"

Not a demon, no. Although he could be one, if he ever started hurting people again. If he strayed from his nature enough. But Cole isn't going to, because he can be good. He can. He's helping people. It's all he ever wants.

Cullen reaches for a sword that isn't there, and it occurs to Cole that he shouldn't startle people. It's one of the things that has happened to him ever since he decided to spare the templar that killed him. He remembers, now. In the future, he'll try not to scare Cullen again.

"Yes. I'm Cole. Cole is me," he replies, tilting his head to get a better look at him. He doesn't seem hurt, and there's no pain radiating off of him, and that's good. "Are you afraid, Cullen?"

Well, he certainly sounds like Cole. It would be difficult to imitate the spirit's pattern of speech - not that that means anything, necessarily, but -

"As a matter of fact, I am afraid," he admits with a frown. "What is this place? Some demon trick or blood magic?"

"No," this place is wrong, and it has him even more agitated than usual. Fidgeting with his clothes, tapping his foot on the ground. "They want us to fight. The woman behind the glass door, her smile was a lie. They want us to fight because they think it's fun. They want to watch the light fade from our eyes. It brings them joy,"

It's sick. Worse, he thinks, than anything the Templars might have done in the Circles, cruelty beyond most of what he'd seen in Thedas. Those people were scared, at least. And fear makes people cruel when they don't need to be.

This is much more senseless than that.

"But...you shouldn't be afraid," he adds, because Cullen's fear sings to him, dark and dissonant. "I'm going to protect you."

Edited 2014-12-29 05:13 (UTC)

Cullen finds himself shuddering a little at Cole's description of their captors. He doesn't, on the whole, believe that most people are cruel by nature. In his experience, it comes about when things go bad.

This place must be very, very bad.

"It's a kind thought, but I don't need protection. Really, I just need a sword, maybe a shield. Do you know where the others are? Has anyone else been captured?"

For the love of Andraste, let her not be here. Let her be safe at Skyhold.

"She isn't here," he supplies helpfully, plucking that thought from his mind. It isn't hard, not when he's fixating on it like that. "The rift sings, it calls. It's terrible music. Like the fade, like Dorian's magic. But I don't hear anything."

That will never stop being unnerving, no matter how often he does it, no matter how comforting the words are. She isn't here.

Cullen turns, gripping his shoulders firmly but gently. "Are you sure?" This place - Cullen feels as though this whole place might just trick them, might trick even Cole, as though the place itself could think, could conjure up falsities.

He's so unused to being touched that it's almost surprising. But Cole understands the urgency in Cullen's eyes. He loves her. But more than that, he needs her. She helps him when he wants to crumple in on himself. When he nearly gives in to the ugly song of the lyrium, the draw of it humming under his skin. She makes him strong again.

And if she were here, he'd be afraid. For her, and for himself.

"Yes. I put my ears to the floor. I listen, and I call. But she doesn't answer. They can't hurt her."

This is how he can help Cullen. Cole knows this much, at least.

He wants to believe him. Has no reason not to. Cole knows things about him that no one else should know, and he has never, to Cullen's knowledge, been wrong, or dishonest.

He drops his hands from Cole's shoulders, raises one to his hair absently. They can't hurt her. She's as safe as she can be, at least for the moment.

"Thank the Maker," he says earnestly. Even if the Maker and His Prophet can't hear him, wherever he is now, he sends a silent prayer anyway. That she stay safe until he can get back to her. And that he can stay strong.

"Is there anyone else here? If so, we should find them," he offers after a moment. Best to know right now.

"I'm...not sure. There are so many voices, so much pain," it's nearly deafening. Every time he opens his mind up to the thoughts around him, they're all the same. I don't want to die, please god--

They use 'God' instead of Maker, but the sentiment is the same.

"We should move if we want to find them. I'll follow you."

"We should move, regardless," Cullen mutters with a glance at their surroundings. "Stay close to me."

With that, he's off, trusting the spirit at his back.

here there be...

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