There was a universal rule when it came to scaling great heights: don’t look down. It was a pretty good rule, as far as rules went. Humans and dwarves (and elves too, because however spry and limber they were they still didn't have wings and would definitely go -splat- just as much as everyone else) were predisposed to having the ground safely beneath their feet, and looking down only reinforced the fact that yes, there was ground beneath their feet, and yes, the ground was within reach, but only if you were willing to spread your arms wide and shuffle off your mortal coil to meet it.
Yes… not looking down was a good rule, as far as rules went.
Delphine disagreed wholeheartedly with this rule. When she climbed, she looked down unashamedly, almost as if she was daring the ground and the empty space between her and the ground to come get her. The way Delphine saw it, what better way was there to remind yourself of your own mortality than to look down and scare yourself shitless? And what better way was there to assure yourself of where you stood, or how far you had to go, or how far you had come? What better way was there to know that you were certain of yourself and your decisions than looking down and understanding the risks involved? Delphine had learned over the years (and over several broken bones) that unless she was sure of herself, she’d never be able to climb and leap across gaps and buildings as she did. Better to look down and evaluate the risks, and then proceed knowing that she was confident in her decisions despite them.
And from her vantage point on the narrow ledge, dark green eyes peering down at the sheer vertical drop leading from Skyhold, and then down further still, into the dark and treacherous crevasses and passes of the Frostback Mountains, Delphine was beginning to wonder if there was something to the rule of not looking down after all. Perhaps looking down was a risk in itself. An unnecessary one.
For an ancient fortress, the stones of the Keep were remarkably smooth, no doubt worn down from centuries of being buffeted by freezing alpine wind, which, at the moment, was pretty much the only thing keeping Delphine standing upon the narrow ledge. From what Delphine could see, there were no obvious handholds immediately nearby that she could use so she could at least turn herself around to face the wall: no crumbling rocks, no statues, no buttresses—no, she only had two options.
She could either slowly shuffle back to the balcony outside her chambers, draw a hot bath, curl up in her nice warm bed and fight a losing battle to try to sleep without dreaming, or she could shuffle a few feet in the other direction, propel her right foot forward while using her left leg to spring herself, before latching onto the (what was it? She couldn’t make it out in the dark—a wooden beam?), and then use her momentum to swing onto the next balcony.
Hot bath, or a high chance of almost certain death?
Warm bed, or -splat!-?
Delphine grit her teeth as she began to slowly slide her feet across the ledge, making sure to keep herself as flat to the wall as possible. Then, as she neared the next balcony, she leapt from the ledge, arms stretching out towards the mystery shape, hands readying themselves to grip, the green light from the cut on her left hand flashing in the darkness, even through her thick gloves, blinding her as she saw—
The Fade, tearing itself through the sky, bathing the landscape in sickly green light. Demons and abominations, the sound of steel clashing against steel, cleaving through flesh, the air crackling with electricity and fear, and finally, a deafening -boom-, screaming and blood and dead bodies everywhere before thankful blissful darkness, and then waking up alone in what she could only describe as hell, having to fight against demons and monsters and Maker knew what else…—
Delphine screamed as she felt herself falling, eyes squeezed shut as she reached out her right hand wildly in front of her, looking to grip on something, anything, thoughts racing a mile a minute through her head. I should have gone for the hot bath.
I shouldn’t have looked down.
I shouldn’t have gone to the Maker damned summit in the first place.
Although… this means I won’t have to dream anymore.
And suddenly, a painful jolt rattled through her entire body as her fall was abruptly interrupted. Widened, panicked green eyes met narrowed angry amber ones, her right hand painfully grasped in between a strong and crushing grip. Which Delphine was eternally thankful for, as having her hand crushed was a small price to pay for not going falling to her death.
”What in the world do you think you are doing?” The words came out clipped and angry, although the voice was… pleasantly male. Fereldan, if she had to take a guess.
But while the man’s voice was pleasant, there was the fact that he was obviously very angry, and he still hadn't made a move to pull her up.
Not good.
Delphine smiled weakly, speaking in the sort of voice that one uses when they’re trying to gain the good will of someone who has no real reason to give it to them. “Oh, you know. I saw the view from my rooms and wanted a closer look at it.” She had decided to try and lighten the mood, thinking that if she could make her saviour less angry he’d be more inclined to pull her up. Or… let go. (But she wasn’t going to let herself think about that possibility, not now.) “But I think I've gotten a close enough look. Say, how’s the view from your room? How about you pull me up so I can see?” She waved her left hand in what she hoped was a placating manner, tracing green light in the air.
Amber eyes blinked down at her in surprise, as if only just registering the situation before him. “Oh! O-of course. My apologies.” To her relief, he began to pull her up over the balcony, strong hands grasping her own before setting her down on the blessed blessed ground. Delphine resisted the urge to fall to her knees and start kissing the floor, already aware that the impression that she had made on the stranger wasn't exactly in her favour.
Not that any of the first impressions she had made since coming here had been favourable. It wasn't that she was a prisoner per se… sure, her every decision and movement was kept under close watch and no doubt reported to the grim red-haired woman in black, but her quarters were spacious and generous, and she was allowed to wander around through (certain) parts of the Keep when she wasn't being interrogated by Lady I-Like-To-Stab-Tables or dragged into meetings by Josephine (who she liked, actually), and sometimes, she was allowed to leave Skyhold! Albeit, when she left the Keep it was so she could go and fight crazy Templars and mages and… things from the Fade that she didn't really want to think about, and after they were all dead she would raise her left hand and close the Tear they had come out of, agony taking the form of burning ice coursing through her veins as she drew a small piece of the Fade into herself…
She squeezed her left hand shut, nails digging into her palm even through her glove. Best not to dwell upon that.
“Thank you,” she said, quietly. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”
The man frowned down at her, disapproval practically radiating off of him. “You were lucky that I was there. If I hadn't been…”
Delphine sighed tiredly. While he had saved her, she had been dealing with disapproval and suspicion for days now, and she certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with it now. She would very much not like to think about how she had nearly become a pulverized puddle of blood and bits, thank you very much. “I'm quite aware of what would have happened if you hadn't been there, thank you. But you were, and so here we are. Better to move on rather than think about what may have happened.”
The man made a strangled noise as he tried to restrain his outrage, and Delphine took this moment to look up at him. And… the rest of him.
Maker, despite her annoyance, she had to admit that he was gorgeous, even if he was a little too serious. (She was irritated, not blind.) She unashamedly trailed her eyes down from his wavy blond hair, amber eyes, stubble, and the intriguing scar on his lips… to broad powerful shoulders. Tall too, if the crick in her neck was anything to go by, but Delphine was shorter than most, so the crick was nothing new. He was still wearing a breastplate, she noticed, although any insignia it might have had was covered up by a red and gold robe. If she had to guess, she’d say… warrior.
He also held himself like he had a stick up his ass, and mildly, Delphine wondered if he used it to beat people to death with. He seemed like the type. Although… to her delight, he seemed to have noticed the way she had been taking him in and a red flush was spreading to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He averted his eyes from hers and rubbed the back of his neck, nervously.
Interesting.
“Are you truly this irresponsible?” he asked, eyes angry and cheeks flushed, although whether that was from frustration or embarrassment Delphine couldn't tell. “Do you not understand what’s at stake here?” His gaze darted to her left hand, still clenched in a tight fist, green light emanating from it despite her effort to hide it. “You are the only one that we know of who can close the Fade tears. If you had died, Lady Inquisitor, you would have doomed us all.”
Delphine stiffened. “Assuming we aren't all doomed already,” she muttered under her breath. She narrowed her eyes at him, arching an eyebrow at the man. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage, seeing as you already know about me and I know next to nothing about you.” Other than that you have a stick up your ass. Any goodwill she had felt towards the man for saving her life evaporated in the wake of his anger (despite how justified it was, because damn it, he was right, and that just irritated her more), and her annoyance with him won out. “Delphine Trevelyan, at your service. Lady Inquisitor, figurehead extraordinaire of the Inquisition. And you are?” She gave him her best curtsey, as low as she could go, her green eyes issuing a challenge to his amber ones.
Somehow, he managed to hold himself up even straighter, eyes narrowing as he took in her mockery. “I am Ser Cullen, your military advisor.” Cullen inclined his head ever so slightly in her direction, not bothering with a proper bow or salute, his answer to her challenge subtle, yet apparent.
Ah. She had known that there was another advisor that she hadn't met yet, apparently off collecting and inspecting some promised reinforcements. “Well met, then.” She turned on her heel, making her way to leave before sighing and stopping. If her mother was here, she’d have her hide for rudeness…
“Thank you again, Ser Cullen,” she said, looking to his eyes, “for saving me. You are… right, of course. I was being foolish.” Delphine swallowed. “And I apologize for my rudeness.” She turned to leave.
“Wait.” She turned again, in time to see Cullen rub the back of his neck again, this time almost sheepishly. “I must apologize for my rudeness as well, Lady Inquisitor. It was… unbecoming of me.”
Delphine stared at him, not expecting the sudden change of attitude. It may not have been meant as one per se, but she saw it as a kindness. A nice change from the suspicion and scrutiny she had been under since she had come to Skyhold. She gave him a small smile. “Thank you for your apology, Ser Cullen. Your apology is accepted.”
“And yours as well,” he didn’t return her smile, although he still looked a little apologetic. “Are you injured?”
Delphine shook her head and made to leave once more, inclining her head towards him as she did. “Good night,” she said, a little awkwardly. Now to figure out where I am and how to get back to my rooms…
“Wait—” his words were cut off as Delphine made a hasty retreat, not wanting to be delayed in her departure again. She walked briskly through the halls, only stopping once she finally made it back to her chambers. She rubbed her face and ran her hands through her hair, wincing at the sharp pain in her right shoulder. Not broken or dislocated, just sore from having her fall stopped so abruptly. She sighed. She'd definitely have some painful bruises on her right shoulder and hand tomorrow.
Well, that was… interesting.
Retour en haut
my brain is mush
I think I must be the only one of us who couldn't care less about what direction they take his background. My only real hope is that whatever it is, it makes sense and rings true. 
Don't get me wrong, his being a Theirin bastard wouldn't be optimal, and I really don't think they'd do that specific thing again. 
.
