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I would write 500 words and I would write 500 more
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Published:
2021-06-27
Words:
500
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
9
Kudos:
8
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54

A Moment's Respite

Summary:

Cullen exits stage left for a smoke break. Varric and Blackwall have beaten him to it.

Notes:

At this point, I think BECandCall and I are just trading plot bunnies. It's only fair it's my turn, now.

Work Text:

Huffing at the cold night air, Cullen didn’t pause in his motion to firmly close the door behind him. The sun had just set and the last vestiges of its golden glow still peered beyond the surrounding mountains. As a result, the chill was a tad more biting than he’d initially bargained on, but Cullen figured he would gladly brave the cold of the Frostbacks without a cloak rather than spend one more moment in that preposterous absurdity Josephine called a soiree. Tugging on the bottom of his vest, he straightened it more out of habit than anything else, taking a deep, crisp breath of relief. Clean and pressed and presentable, or so his Instructor always told the young recruits.

A chuckle to his left alerted him that he wasn’t alone in the small courtyard leading to the garden, and turning his head he saw Varric and Blackwall leaning against the stone balustrade. Dimly illuminated by the moon and a nearby torch, the smoke from their pipes wisped gently upward into the gentle night that had blanketed Skyhold. He could just barely make out the subtle tug at the edge of Varric’s lips as the Dwarf nudged Blackwall. “Well, well, well, look who’s joining us.”

Blackwall took a small drag from his pipe before he noted, “Surprised I didn’t see you out here sooner.”

Cullen snorted as he pulled out his own pipe. “It wasn’t through a lack of effort on my end, I assure you.” Twirling a spill through his fingers, he held it out and ignited the end before lighting the pre-packed bowl and moving to join the other two men.

“I can imagine,” Varric remarked as they made room for him where they stood. “Seems Josephine and Leliana were dead set on showing you off tonight.”

“It’s the Queen of Tantervale,” he groaned. “They appear to be under the delusion that the  young widow is taken with me and insisted on keeping me around her.”

“My condolences,” Blackwall drawled, and Cullen couldn’t quite tell if he was serious or just ribbing him, but he nodded all the same, taking in a nice drag while he did so and then releasing the smoke into the general direction of the garden.

They lapsed into a nice, peaceful quiet then, the conversation from inside the great hall just barely filtering through to them. It was quite the contrast from the deluge of noise he’d experienced while being dragged around, the cacophony making it difficult to concentrate on little more than Josephine and Leliana’s strict instructions on behaviour and decorum. Which meant he did little more than politely smile and nod while he took as many sips as he could sneak from his wine glass. But here, in this quiet, there was none of that pretence, and the three men could simply exist as they were. Sooner or later he would have to return to the great hall, but for now, he drank in the serenity while it was afforded him.