entrancelogs | ( closed ) rust suddenly falling beside me

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( closed ) rust suddenly falling beside me

Who: Robyn Cousland and Cullen Rutherford
Where: The grounds
When: February 22nd
Rating: PG, maybe PG-13 for language?
Summary: They hadn't gotten off to a very good start and things never really seemed to improve. One day, outside, she notices him, and... grudgingly approaches with an apology.
The Story:

[ It's a beautiful day, and Warden Robyn Cousland stops short as something nasty clutches at her chest. The would-be Hero of Ferelden hovers, as if her legs have turned to lead, wills them to continue on. In the distance is a mess of metal, crimson, blonde, and it isn't anyone she wants to approach, or even see.

Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisitions forces. For a moment, she can hear it in her head as if he's speaking it now, the desperate pleading with their group to eliminate the threat of the mages and of Uldred at Kinloch Hold. He'd been so much younger, but she saw - or thought she'd seen - so much of that same, tired plea in his eyes when they'd first met in Wonderland. Of course, that had only been her perception, and one greatly colored by her own prejudices and the knowledge that he had attacked another resident... believing her to be a demon, yes, but... all the same.

She wills herself to move on her way, but before she can press past the strange guilt that gnaws within her, Oren trots off. Robyn opens her mouth quickly and snaps it shut, not wanting to alert Cullen to her presence, but knowing what's about to happen all the same. Oren is more partial to the Fereldens of Wonderland than those from other places, even within Thedas, and he'd seemed to catch the scent when they'd first run into the man in the armory. The mabari moves behind the commander, casually as you please, and then emits a loud, rough bark to get his attention (and, he hopes, some pats on the head). Not far away, his master is still frozen, hands twitching momentarily at her sides, longing, in part, for the security of her crossbow in her hands. ]

Oren, no- [ She groans softly, but he can tell she's reluctant, and the lure of attention is too great. ]

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[ Pieces splinter from the dummy. Even with blunted edge Cullen's sword leaves a deep grove in the wood today. He must remember to report this damage to whoever is in charge of the training equipment. Unless that is no one at all, just another part of Wonderland's little games and gifts. The thought makes his swing bear down even harder.

Cullen stops for breath, and gasps when the sound at his back distracts him. Raised sword-- --but his reflexes are fast enough, and this is no enemy. Cullen exhales a slow sigh of relief. He sheathes his blade, and kneels down in the grass. ]

You. You look familiar, don't you? But not Hawke's. Hm...

[ He scratches the dog behind its ears, not thinking to look up where he might find a simple answer to his question. ]

[ Oren seems thrilled that the Ferelden man is willing to attend to him and wags the whole lower half of his body, doing a little spin in place before submitting his neck for rubs. Robyn bites at her tongue, wavering, but then approaches, keeping at least some distance, tone even and polite when she speaks. ]

This is Oren. [ Named for her nephew, slaughtered by Howe's men. The Warden nods at him, trying to keep her voice light in the name of being civil. ] Not my mabari from home, but one I found in the closets.

[ A magic, Wonderland mabari, but a mabari all the same. He even has some war point and the copious drool to prove it. ]

Good afternoon, Commander.

[ --Hers. Now he remembers. The mabari either does not, or he holds on to far fewer of the tensions in their last encounter, than Cullen could bring to mind. But then, much the same seems to hold true for his mistress, if her tone is any indication. ]

Owen, I remember. [ He pats the mabari's neck one last time, and rises from his knees. ] Warden Cousland.

[ He nods to greet her. His own voice is not so easily freed from apprehension. There is much he ought to say about their first encounter, but-- He didn't see before, was she only nearby, or did she come to see him? ]

Was there something you needed?

Ah, not exactly. I was passing through, and...

[ And Oren decided to visit one of his Ferelden fellows. Poor hound didn't seem to realize that he hadn't really come from the place, since he'd technically been spawned from the closet.

Robyn studies him with a quiet for of discernment, turning something over in her mind. ]

I wanted to... apologize. [ She has no trouble doing it, normally, but it's still difficult to put their last meetings, both here and in Thedas, from her mind. ] My behavior was rash and particularly harsh. I was worried that you might be a danger to others in the mansion, but I know that time is years ago, for you.

[ Hopefully, he can see why she had been worried, considering her own timeline, but she won't press it. ]

Apologise?

[ Cullen arches an eyebrow. Some of their encounter has blurred in the chaos of his arrival, but even when he drags it all to light he finds little which would make the sentiment ring true. He shakes his head. ]

There is no need for that. I've-- given little cause to have you think otherwise when I arrived. What you said about--

[ He stops short. To declare his actions against the woman Mystique rash is one thing, to admit that he sought nothing but a culprit within easy reach when he was taken here, but--

But what lingers worst is another part of their conversation entirely. One he now knows to be true, after hearing that not even Hawke is always the Hawke he knows, after accepting - grudgingly - that the Inquisitor could have been another, who could have known him all the same.

Because it makes her a woman who has walked the steps of Ferelden's hero, with all the stations that entails. Cullen feels the mabari's head nuzzle against his hand. He can't bring himself to say it, not entirely. ]

You did speak the truth. I am the one who should apologise.

[ If she had to guess, she'd guess that he, like her, is thinking of the Circle Tower near Lake Calenhad. It haunts her, too, though not with such severity; all the same, she remembers the mages turned to monsters, the people, still people, killing their fellows. Everyone was filled to the brim with incredible fear and even she and her group were almost killed, drawn and caught in the Fade and almost unable to escape again.

His denial of her behavior is surprising, though. She's taken aback and looks it, frowning quizzically. ]

We both were... overwhelmed. [ The Warden speaks, slowly. ] You had just arrived; I should have been more sensitive, no matter what I wanted to say.

[ At the very least, she should have had more patience with the man, though she doesn't regret the feeling of needing to keep the others safe from a potential threat. ]

It wasn't befitting of a Grey Warden.

[ He swallows the bitter laugh that wells up in his throat. But befitting of a former Knight-Commander of the Templar Order? Befitting of the Inquisition's general? Both of these men should know to do better, he should be able to do better, for the sake of the latter title alone, and yet--

And yet that is part of a larger issue he must take up with his Inquisitor when the time comes. For now it matters only that he does all he can, so the time comes as soon as possible.

Cullen answers with a nod. ]

Then we must both strive to do better in the future. [ He rubs the back of his head. ] Perhaps we can start again. I'm to understand you are one the Wardens who survived the Battle of Ostagar? A Cousland, but- Aedan Cousland, he was the man I knew, did he exist in your Ferelden at all?

[ Perhaps a family member who did not survive the events which surrounded the Blight? Somehow that would seem more plausible than a man who was, in some world, never born at all, but... if Cullen begins to understand it correctly, then that may not be the case. ]

There was no Aedan Cousland. [ Robyn confirms, shaking her head. ] If it helps, you can think of it as... that I acted in his place, taking the same steps that he did. I've yet to complete them, though, as I was brought her just before the Landsmeet.

[ Before they traveled to Arl Howe's estate, to be precise. ]

I traveled with Alistair, Morrigan, and the others following the Battle of Ostagar. I was there when our king and the other Wardens fell.

[ She and Alistair would have died, too, if not for Morrigan's mother. ]

I'm sorry for your losses. For all the history that battle has made it must have been quite different to be there in person.

[ But when isn't it? When does the word that spreads, the story that is set down in parchment, ever compare to what has been lived and experienced in truth? ...Even so, at least normally the world tends to be on the same page about how much time has passed since the events. ]

The same steps you say, [ he repeats, trying to grasp the full extent of what that entails. ] The same choices, as well? The same history that led you to them?

[ The same person, but with a different face and name? Is that more or less comforting a thought than a world where different people have come to matter- to exist at all? ]

I didn't see most of the carnage. [ Robyn says quietly. ] Alistair and I were at the top of the tower to light the signal fire at Duncan's command. We would have died there, too. We were lucky.

[ Saved by Flemeth, more like. Who they later killed (or, thought that they'd killed, as she'd been told by Hawke that the mysterious woman still lived). ]

No. [ The Warden is quick to deny it, eyes widening slightly, tone defensive. ] Alistair has told me some of the... decisions made by Aedan Cousland. Many of them are stark opposites of what my group chose. I'm frankly embarrassed that he shares my name and am deeply sympathetic to any Ferelden who faced his merciless tactics.

[ Killing the Arl's son without even trying to find another way, for example. Choosing Branka and the gruesome transformation of golems in order to bolster their forces. It isn't right. ]

[ Their luck takes the shape of interesting rumours, depending on whose tale of it you wish to believe. Cullen might be tempted to verify, but something else draws his attention. ]

Merciless?

[ His throat is hoarse. He can barely speak when he begs the man to kill them all. Aedan refuses. He begs, he begs again. Aedan does not budge, like Cullen's prison, and something wraps tightly around the throat.

Hours later he is free, and praises and curses the man alike. Because he is free. But he twitches at every movement of all others the man saved. Months later he is still free, in a sense, but it takes a great deal of restraint to not send inquiries into the fates of those left alive. Into the errors and regrets he fears hidden behind such mercies.

Only years later does his stomach recoil at the innocents the Warden's blade could have slaughtered on his behalf. Could have, but never did. Because he saw the right course of action so much sooner. Because he was a hero to them all, for this reason and many more. ]

King Alistair's Ferelden must remember a very different man.

[ He wonders if it was a different man in truth, or if spite colours his regent's perception-- But no, how could it? Most know that there is little love lost between their country's king and queen, but the Alistair he met, the one who presumably passed along the story, yet wears neither crown nor ring. Were those intentions for Ferelden's rulership much longer in the making then, or is there some other reason behind the claim? ]

...You must have approved of his actions at the Tower, where is it that he went wrong?

[ Interesting. The outrage says to her that the Warden Cullen knew, the Aedan Cousland that he'd met so briefly, was a kinder man. That, or the Commander approves of the same, cruel beast who'd torn his way through Ferelden, but even in her lingering bitterness, she doesn't believe that could be true. ]

Everywhere. [ Robyn says softly, a smoldering flame threatening to burst back to life. ] I imagine I would condemn his actions at the Tower, but Alistair's only told me bits and pieces. He said that Aedan killed Arl Eamon's son, Connor, rather than find another way to deal with his possession. Though we were able to find a way to save the boy and destroy the demon without much trouble, Aedan thought it more convenient to take swifter action. There are other examples, too, and I believe the stories.

[ 'Must remember a very different man' indeed. ... And, on that subject: ]

Don't call him king. [ She adds, stern. ] The Alistair here hasn't been made king and nothing's set in stone. Honestly, if you all knew how loathe he is to even be associated with the throne, you wouldn't flout that title as much as you do before we've even been through the Landsmeet.

[ People from the future, honestly. ]

Another man. [ Cullen shakes his head plainly. ] Connor Guerrin? He is alive. Lord Cousland sought the Circle's help against the demon that held the boy. I was told one of our mages defeated it in the Fade-- Senior Enchanter Wynne, perhaps she travelled with you as well?

[ He was told, and barely remembered the story at the time. Only the argument he had with Greagoir, only watching the mages leave while his chest felt filled with cold stone, barely able to catch a breath--

--until the reprimand snaps him back into the moment, away from memories that had crawled closer than he'd care for them to. ]

I know how he loathes it, he told me as much himself. Only after ten years of his rule I might need a little more time to break the habit. [ Or to come to terms with the fact that part of their nation's fate rests in the hands of a man who would apparently sooner close his eyes and ears to the responsibility. ] ...What other outcome is it you expect?

Wynne- Yes. [ Robyn nods, listening intently, visibly relieved to hear that Connor had survived in another world. Maybe that was the case more often than not. ] She's traveled with me since then. So... your Aedan Cousland did take a more similar path to mine. I wonder why there is such a jarring difference in Alistair's Warden.

[ She sighs, long and drawn-out, dipping her chin and staring downward in thought. It isn't as if they're likely to get answers any time soon as to why one Thedas is more kind than the others... ]

To leave Anora to rule, alone, as she wants. [ Maker knows the queen had told her as much over and over again. ] Alistair is a Grey Warden and he belongs with them. They're-... his family.

[ More so than anyone. She knows, she's seen it without him saying it when he speaks about the order. ]

There's time to change it in both our worlds. The Landsmeet has yet to happen and we have a voice in the proceedings.

I would discuss the Warden's path with Alistair, but I only met him briefly. What I know from accounts may be twisted or incomplete, and would offer little to discover what might have changed his course, or the man himself.

[ Leliana would be better-suited to tell parts of the story from experience, but for all the knowledge in her grasp even she might reach her limit at the point where two worlds divide a man's fate.

He pauses at the plea Lady Cousland makes on Alistair's behalf, turning it over in her head. Anora has proven herself capable, but would Ferelden accept her as its sole ruler? If it did, then all parties may be satisfied by such an outcome, but if not? Apparently the Alistair on his Ferelden's throne saw the duties which come before personal desires... ]

Two more chances at a different outcome. The politics at Halamshiral were enough to last me a lifetime, but it will be... worthy of note to see where else Ferelden's paths might turn in a different direction.

I know enough. [ She says simply. Alistair clearly doesn't like to talk about Aedan, or at least the one he travels with, and she doesn't like to hear the things he's done, either. All in all, they're both off not bringing that particular Warden into their conversations. ]

There are many of them, if I've heard correctly. [ Directions, at least. ] It seems nearly each new person from Thedas has a different story to tell.

[ About everything, too, not only one or two events. It's bizarre at the least and deeply concerning at most. ]

You were at Halamshiral? [ She questions, the faintest of smiles quirking her lips upward. ] I'm sorry for your suffering, then. No one should be left to the games of Orlesians.

Of one of them, [ he amends gravely. If one is two irksome to even speak about, then the Lord Cousland he knows does not deserve to be painted with the same brush. A different man or different circumstances? Cullen supposes he may never know.

There is comfort, at least, in knowing that one truth still spans all circumstances, unites their worlds, and rings genuine in all good hearts and minds alike: Orlais is the absolute worst.

He gives a small laugh, even. ]

On business for the Inquisition - just before I was taken here, as a matter of fact. [ He remembers their meeting then, and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. ] You, uh, caught me shedding their dreadful finery. [ He huffs, a quiet mutter: ] Maker, what a nightmare that evening was.

Whoever thought to send the poor Commander of the Inquisition to an Orlesian ball? [ She doesn't imagine that Brennan would make anyone go unless it was absolutely necessary, given that they'd also spent time berating the ridiculous country and its people. ] Unless you were there in their finery to wage war?

[ Robyn ventures it with a feigned hopefulness, but even Cullen, not knowing her especially well, would be able to guess that she doesn't actually want more war against their neighbors. ]

I hope it went as well as it could go. [ She finishes with a faint nod. ] What were you doing there?

It's atrocious combat attire, no matter how much their game would have you think otherwise. [ He shakes his head. ] Not to wage one, but to stop it.

[ He pauses. Does she really want to know? It's only more future business, threats yet to come to her Thedas. But she did ask... ]

Orlais w-- [ Will be? Is? Was? Was. ] --was at war with itself. We learned of plans to assassinate Empress Celene, to use her death to destabilise the entire nation further.

[ He has heavy sighs reserved for the subject. One escapes, and he rubs the bridge of his nose. ]

The entire affair was a blighted mess, but we-- [ Celene lies dead. Gaspard rules only in name. And Briala is in their debt. Is that as well as it could have gone? ] Prevented the worst of it.

[ She listens with interest, wondering what she herself may be up to at the time of his possible war, but... then, she remembers Brennan mentioning something similar and she nods, slowly. ]

The Inquisitor spoke of something similar. [ Had that been why Brennan had been at the Winter Palace? The details escape her. ] I did hear that you managed to stop it, and for that, I'm grateful. I know only from stories that the Inquisition has far too much to deal with without the threat of the Empire's collapse.

[ Corypheus seems (seemed?) to be a large enough threat on his own. ]

I hope they at least served dinner. [ Robyn finishes with another small smile. ]

[ At the beginning of their journey he'd wished for a name so famed as the Hero of Ferelden to give strength to their cause. The longer they go on the more he believes Inquisitor Cadash a worthy match, but he does wonder if Robyn Cousland's world will benefit from her experience, when the time comes... ]

Thank you. There is much left to be done, but Halamshiral was a good day for us, in the end.

[ He mirrors the smile tentatively. ]

...Even if their ham tasted a lot like despair.

[ Cullen clears his throat, because he should probably-- ]

Lady Cousl-- [ No, Warden Cousland he said before. Or is it just Warden, or-- He should probably have thought of that before speaking. ] Ah, how would you- prefer I address you?

A good day for gossip, too, I imagine.

[ His smile nudges on her own, the tiniest big larger as things progress. And... she has to admit a laugh at the ham comment, though she still seems to search his expression uncertainly. ]

It didn't taste like--... I don't know, deception? Farce?

[ Some other attribute of the Orlesians and their awful Game? ]

Just... Robyn, if you will. [ She submits, tone again more polite than familiar. ] And for you?

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( closed ) rust suddenly falling beside me

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