thearena | i woke up and he was screaming; open-ish

Entry tags:

i woke up and he was screaming; open-ish

Who| Cullen and cave-mates/others who might be loitering around the caves!
What| Cullen sucks at sleeping. He wanders around a lot instead.
Where| In and around the caves.
When| Early week 2, during and just after the snowfall.
Warnings/Notes| Descriptions of torture, both physical and mental, and some body horror imagery.

(A)

His quarters at Skyhold had been ideally suited for his situation. Not only did they have easy access to both the main keep and the training yard, with arrow slits overlooking the main gate, but the tower was far enough away from the other sleeping quarters for Cullen to have the privacy he so needed - not just for his own peace of mind, but to keep from disturbing anyone else, with his restless nights - and the nightmares.

There's no escaping the dreams, not since he stopped taking lyrium. He sleeps, and they come. Nearly every night, he's back in Kinloch Hold, in the cage they made for him, and the demons return - not true demons, he doesn't think, just shadows of the ones that Uldred summoned, the ones that tormented him for days. Causing him pain in order to make him beg for it to stop. Showing him images of things he wanted but couldn't have, trying to convince him it could all be his if he gave into them. Other images, more horrible, showing him what would happen to those he cared about if he didn't.

And more recently, the dreams are sometimes tinged with red - red lyrium, eating away at him, destroying him from the inside and making him a monster, while the demons watch, offer to take it all away if he'll have them...

If he cries out in his sleep, thrashes and moans, well, that's pretty normal, until he wakes himself, his skin clammy and damp with sweat as he gets up.

(B)

Instead of bothering with sleep, he often scouts near the caves - just to make sure there aren't any approaching threats, inadvertent or no. He collects fresh water from the river, and keeps his knife on him at all times as he trudges through the snow. The dark circles under his eyes indicate his sleepless state - it's not really any better with Adella here, as he now has her to worry about as well. And she without her magic, to boot.

If someone had told him even a few years ago that he would be outraged and upset about a mage being separated from their magic with no ill effects, he would've found it preposterous. And yet, here he is. Not just outraged, but worried, because said mage is his leader - and his lover. He's come a very long way in ten years. Now if only the blasted nightmares would stop.

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She ignores the frown, her smile only widening as she closes the distance. She's nothing if not stubborn.

"We could always melt the snow closer to camp, you know," she points out, planting her staff in the snow and leaning on it as she draws to a stop. "It really is a lovely time for a walk. That's why I thought I'd come out here and join you." And not at all because she's worried.

Cullen shakes his head a little. "If this were a real forest, I'd agree with you. But it's not. It was designed - to kill. I've tested this water and know it's drinkable. I'm not ready to risk the snow."

He stands up to get a good look at her, concern creasing his brow. "I didn't wake you, did I?" Because he's pretty sure he's been making noise in his sleep.

"No, I can't even hear you from the respectable distance of across the cave," Not exactly true, but she'd actually woken up because she'd slept longer than she has been. She's always been a fairly light sleeper, so more often than not even someone simply snoring will wake her.

"I woke up and noticed you were gone, so I came out to make sure you were alright."

His lips twitch a little at that. Well, it's awkward, and he's not about to rub their... relationship in the faces of everyone else.

Much as he might want to have a proper reunion, there's simply no privacy in this place.

"I'm fine," he says, and means it, despite everything. In some ways, he's better than he has been since he first arrived.

She doesn't mind the distance or the sleeping arrangements, really. From what she's been learning about the Arena and the people who were supposedly watching them, anything resembling a private moment would likely need to wait.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her lips pressed together as she looks him over. "I think all things considered here, it'd be okay if you aren't."

"It's -"

He rubs a hand over his face. "I didn't want you to be brought here. I'm sorry that you were. But -"

His mouth twists a little as he tries to pull an explanation out - tries to find the right words. He can tell her anything. That's another good thing about her presence here. He can tell her things he can't tell even Cassandra. He may not want to burden her with them, but he can, if he needs to. He trusts no one more than he trusts her.

"Without you, and with the others remembering - different things, it - I wasn't sure what was real."

She'll know the full implications of that, he thinks. In a way no one else does, because no one else knows what was done to him all those years ago.

"Oh, Cullen." She does know what that means and that's echoed on her face. The idea that he's been second-guessing what was real, clearly her, because of this place. If she wasn't sure she wanted to rip the people who invented such a perverse game before she's certainly sure now. Letting out a breath she steps closer, leaving her staff in the snow so she can wrap her arms around him and pull him close.

"I'm sorry you were put through that," again.

It still might not be real. Of course, his entire life after Kinloch might not be real, but at some point he has to accept that it is or go mad.

Besides, her arms around him certainly feel real, and he returns the embrace fiercely.

"Maker, I've missed you," he mutters into her neck.

It makes her heart ache, that he was alone with this for so long. She knows that she has no control over the situation. It doesn't stop her from being frustrated, though. She lets out a huff of air, leaning her head against his.

"You don't need to miss me anymore, I'm here." Maybe not an ideal situation, but if it helps him, she's glad to be here. At least for that reason.

Some part of him hates it - hates that he's come to rely on her so much to anchor him - simply because he sees it as burdening her, and she has enough burdens without him adding to them.

And yet, he can't deny how she makes him feel - not simply that she loves him, but that being with her, he can accomplish anything. He feels as strong and good and whole as she seems to think he is, when she's near.

"And you?" he asks, his hands sliding up and down her back, soothingly. "Are you alright?"

"No," she replies honestly, staring out over the river. One hand shifts around him so she can slide it over the back of his neck, her grip on him no less tight. She's usually very good at making light of things, avoiding being serious when she knows it'll help cut tension. He's still the only person she ever admitted to how terrified she was of being the Inquisitor.

"Several of my closest friends don't know me, barely seem to trust me, and there's another Inquisitor with my brother's name but a stranger's face. Not to mention, these people, who made this thing, expect us to kill each other." She's been thinking about that particular detail often. She can fight to survive, but she can't fight the people she loves. They're the reason she survives.

Frankly, he can't imagine how difficult it must be for her - for Maxwell, too, of course. He knows how awkward it can be, speaking with Maxwell - knowing he is the Inquisitor, at least in some version of reality, but also utterly lacking the history and experiences with him that he and Adella have.

To have it reversed, to have the people he's come to know all unable to recognize him, well. He holds her a little closer.

"You have me," he promises. He could never not recognize her. She could never be a stranger to him again.

"And we're not going to kill each other," he adds quietly. "They can put us in here, but they can't make us do that." They still have free will, for what it's worth.

She smiles a little as he reassures her, her hand absently drifting up into his hair as she strokes the back of his head.

"I know. I just don't like the idea of it. That anyone could expect that." She'd lived with the possibility that anything could happen while she was leading the Inquisition. This, however, never factored into her plans. She'd just been starting to feel confidant that they'd make it through everything Corypheus was throwing at them alive, too.

Her hands in his hair feel so good. It would be almost embarrassing if anyone else were around to see - but it's just them, and he relaxes instantly under her touches, despite the constant dangers.

"They are rather bloodthirsty. It's - a lot like Orlais, to be perfectly honest, just - more brightly lit and noisier."

Translation: one big migraine for him.

"Brightly lit?" Adella tilts her head a little, so she can look at him, though she keeps her hand where it is. She knows what relaxes him, and since they're not going to have many alone moments here, she'd take advantage of touching him while she could.

"That's unusual. The idea of the dim lighting at Orlesian parties is it makes it harder to spot imperfections. Honestly I think that's what the masks are for, too." Josephine had given her a lot of coaching before they'd gone to the Winter Palace. She'd read books about Orlais, but the nuances of the culture weren't always touched on, especially in whatever books they had in the Circle libraries.

"Mm," is about all Cullen can say to her little lesson. Frankly, the nuances of Orlesian society are beyond him. What he does know, however, is what the Capitol is like.

"Everything is lit by electricity, if you can believe it. Every corner of the place, day and night. They have these... boxes, too, they call them televisuals or something. They show pictures that move. Sometimes of the Tributes."

He explains all this like it's unbelievable - and also baffling, and obnoxious.

She listens to his explanation of the Capitol, her brow furrowing as she tries to imagine what he's describing, and utterly failing. Electricity is just about the only thing she's familiar with, and that's only as a mage who has talents that lie in electrical manipulation. Capturing it to light things, though? She can't imagine.

"I... guess I'll just have to see it. I caught glimpses of things, but I was just dressed and shoved in a hole underground that led to here. I didn't really have a chance to process any of it."

"Yes, it's... I don't really have the words to describe it," he says, making a slight face. Literally - he just doesn't have the vocabulary to describe most of the technology he's encountered.

"What I can say is - we're always under scrutiny. Even if it seems impossible."

"So just like Orlais, then," she gives him a thin smile, her hand sliding to his cheek, scruffier than she's used to it being.

"We can do this." She's feeling certain, now. Maybe that's all she needed, a few minutes to have a real conversation with him, rather than the brief and cordial ones they'd been having since she'd arrived.

"More or less." He manages a smile of his own, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand lightly.

"I have every faith in you. In us. All of us." And that's the absolute truth.

She lets out a small laugh, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek while his head is turned.

"That's good to hear. Stubbornly believing is 98% of getting through difficult events," she replies, her hand sliding away from his face and down to one of her pockets, where she withdraws a coin that should be familiar to him, holding it up. "The other two percent is luck."

Oh. Somehow, that little coin brings a smile to his face. "You still have it." He's surprised - not that he expected her to throw it away, but that she was allowed to keep it when she was sent here.

"We may need more than that two percent, so... good." Well, that, and it has an awful lot of sentimental value.

"It's my... token, they said. It was either this or my Enchanter's ring from the Circle, and this is more important." She closes her fingers over it, holding it close to her chest. The coin itself may be worthless, but it meant so much to her.

"I always feel a little extra lucky when I have it with me," and that really has nothing to do with the holy symbol embossed on its surface.

More important. He sighs a little, leaning in closer, his arms wrapping tighter around her. And he'd been so worried about giving it to her, so hyper-aware of how silly it was.

"I'm glad. It's working, then," he says. It may not have a magical luck enchantment, but what it has is all of Cullen's hopes that she will return safely to him, no matter what happens.

She leans against him as he pulls her close, grateful not only for the embrace but the warmth he provided. She's starting to tremble involuntarily from the cold. Tucking her head up under his chin she sighs.

"We should probably get water and head back."

i woke up and he was screaming; open-ish

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