thearena | [open] winter's light feels different on my skin

Who| Adella and hopefully no one who wants to kill her
What| Arrival in the Arena
Where| the pine forest, heading east.
When| late week 1, midday.
Warnings/Notes|

Adella would have liked a minute to gather her bearings, before she was shoved though the tube into the Arena. She, of course, wasn't afforded that. What information she was given and expected to run with she'd have to sort through, later. Instinct told her to run, as soon as she was given the chance to, and she did, heading for the forest.

The cold in the Arena felt familiar, at least. Skyhold was in a good location, it could get almost warm during the day, but it was a drafty old castle in the middle of a mountain range. The cold in the Arena was nothing she wasn't used to, although she would have liked her own clothes instead of what they'd provided her with.

She slowed to a walk after her sprint into the woods, looking around for any kind of advantage she could grab a hold of. Being unarmed and acutely aware that she's cut off from her magic worries her. It's been a long time since she felt like she was a caged animal, but that feeling creeps into the back of her mind as she looks around, her head jerking at every sound. One thing struck home, at least. There's people here, and supposedly they want to kill her.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Maker's breath, they've done this more than once?" She looks a little sick for a moment, before squeezing his shoulder. She's upset that she wasn't here for her people, for Cole when he apparently died. Even if he doesn't know her, that changes nothing.

"Well, I'm here now. I guess we'll make the best of things, not like I'm not used to people trying to kill me." Although she was usually better equipped to defend herself.

"Many times, from what I understand," Cullen says darkly. Then he stands - it's far too cold out here for them to sit around like this.

"Come. We need to get to camp. It would be silly to survive a fire only to freeze to death."

She doesn't say anything further about the situation, following him up and wincing a little as her legs protest. Going from trying to outrun a fire to freezing cold water was apparently something her muscles weren't a fan of.

"It would be embarrassing, really. Dying in a fire is much more dignified. I'm happy with the notion of living today, however," she gives him a thin smile, rubbing her hands together to try and get some of the feeling back in her fingers, at least. Her legs will be fine once they start moving.

"I'm not sure either would be particularly dignified," Cullen mutters, reaching for her. They could both, it seems, use a little support. And, frankly, he needs to reassure himself that this isn't some sort of bizarre dream, meant to torture him.

It wouldn't be the first time.

She has no objections to him reaching for her, and she leans into him, sliding her arm across his shoulders.

"I didn't say they would be, just that fire is more dignified," she replies, absently rubbing her hand over his back as they start forward.

"More symbolic appeal, perhaps," he offers, his lips twisting a little. Just because the Maker's Bride had been burned alive, doesn't mean Her Herald needs to suffer the same fate, however.

"You're uninjured I hope?" he offers after a moment. They can make a more thorough assessment at camp, but it might be good to know now, if there's something to be concerned about.

"I feel a little like a marshmellow that's been too close to the flames and then thrown in ice water, but other than that, I'm fine." She offers him a reassuring smile, one hand brushing the back of her neck and wincing a little because the skin is quite warm to the touch.

"How about you? I'm not the one who tripped."

"A bruised shin, a few scrapes, nothing serious," he says by way of reassurance. "Once warm and rested I'm sure we'll be fine."

He glances at her again, taking in her appearance. The clothes are strange, but everything else about her is so achingly familiar. Her touch, her profile in the darkness, even her smell, singed and sooty as they are.

Now that the immediate danger has passed, he's beginning to react a little - his stomach churning. He doesn't want her here. Her magic is gone here. This is a terrible place, and she belongs in Thedas. At Skyhold, safe.

And yet, she's here. In his sight, and alive, and real. He'd been beginning to wonder. Really wonder.

"I have a feeling warm is subjective," she comments, her eyes drifting over the terrain. It's damp right now, but she knows the feeling of a place that can go from habitable to freezing death in a matter of hours. Emprise du Lion almost had nothing on this place.

Unaware of Cullen's train of thought, she's mostly just relieved he's here. The complications and repercussions haven't fully sunk in, and she's never been one who enjoyed shouldering her burdens alone. She may be the Inquisitor, but there's still an entire Inquisition behind her.

"I suppose we could go back to the forest. It was pretty warm there."

"Maker's breath, Adella," he says, but there's no real bite to his words. She makes light, as always. He appreciates her ability to do so, as often as not. It's - familiar, like the rest of her.

He's missed her, he admits to himself. Missed her desperately. In a different way even than when she leaves Skyhold. In those instances, he misses her, worries for her, but understands the situation, can send and receive reports - it's just different.

"I think our camp will suffice," he points out wryly.

She'd been trying to make him laugh, but she'll take gentle exasperation. She glances over at him, a slight smile touching her lips as she settled her arm on his shoulder again.

"If you say so."

[open] winter's light feels different on my skin

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