Dragn

Arden

He leans against the cold stones with most of his weight, dreading the call of the crowd below. He knows what he'll find, what they'll ask, what he'll see. Knowing is all the better on most days but today knowing is a curse. Feeling the tight leather straps press against his lungs as he breathes in is the closest he can get to grounding himself now.

Commander Cullen had made a habit of announcing himself. One particularly unfortunate evening where he'd come looking for the inquisitor only to be met with the blunt of an arrow was all he needed to create the habit. Some days there's guilt in knowing that, whenever his commander taps the steel of his boots on his way up the stairs or across the stone lined archways, he knows his own foolishness and danger had brought the habit on. And yet most days he's just grateful. Grateful because his heart doesn't jump in his chest and the straps on his chest don't feel like fire when his throat stops listening to him.

The commander joins him, leaning with far less weight and far more civility against the stone railing. If he dares not to look he'd be able to pretend the commander is bemused, but he can't stop himself from looking. And looking means he knows. Cullen is worried, fraught with well intentioned concern that falls flat against the inquisitor's aching.

"You never joined us, I thought to come find you," Cullen says, as though an explanation for finding himself there.

Rather than speak he just hangs his head heavy between his shoulders and breathes in until his chest is tight. There's a pregnant silence where all that can be heard is the distant echo of chatter from below and the cricket that had dared roam this far from the ground. Then, Cullen is pressing against him with his full weight. It's nothing new, the commander will press their backs together and let himself become weightless, wait until the inquisitor bothers to push back or try to sit up. It's a comfort, the heavy contact and cool metal against his skin.

When his arms finally become too heavy for the railing, and only then, he pushes back with all his might, relishing in the brief moment of comfort from the weight before Cullen steps away and gives him a look too good for a man who thinks so little of himself. It's better than what he'd been doing and brings him back to his feet pressed firmly into the stoned walkway.