Catch me if I fail, okay? I'm counting on you.
Catch me, she said. Like it was no big deal.
Like she wasn't a thousand feet in the Maker-damned air.
Like she wasn't falling.
From one thousand feet in the air.
Well, one thousand give or take a couple hundred. All that's important to him right now is that when she went up, he could barely see her, and now he-along with the rest of Skyhold-can.
And she's falling. Very, very fast.
How in the Void is he supposed to catch her? At that speed? It'd kill him. And her. The important one.
Shit.
She races towards the ground head first, arms plastered to her sides, hands outstretched, and dammit but she better be serious about whatever it is she's up to, not laughing like some maniac at a thousand feet above the ground. Pale green barrier magic pulses around her, but it's not enough to save her if she hits the cobblestones. Or a tree. Or him.
Slowly, she starts to stretch her arms, using the barrier to break the wind. With the movement, she slows and starts to level out. Her face comes in to focus, and thank the Maker she's serious, if the severe line of her always-smiling mouth is any indication. Magic glows green and blue in a nimbus coming from within, radiating from the Anchor as she draws on its power. The falcon-esque wings she mastered summoning and using in flight not a week ago flicker into being, ethereal and Fade-tinted green. They're beautiful, he thinks, but also faltering. She holds them for one, two wingbeats before they sputter out and she loses control.
Cullen screams something intelligible, and arms hold him back when he tries to rush forwards. He'll catch her. He will. He promised.
He has to.
"Kali!"
She yells a command, and a wave of magic spreads over Skyhold, freezing every mage in place. The courtyard is in complete chaos as the Inquisitor hurtles faster towards the ground, hands over her face, legs curled up to her stomach, barrier becoming more and more solid with all the magic she pours in.
She clears the trees, then the gazebo, then Cullen himself, and hits the ground with the force of a iron ball during a siege.
His heart stops, breath catches in his throat. He can only watch, horrified, as the ground gives way beneath her like a pebble in so much water.
He didn't catch her.
He tears out of his captor's grasp and races to the crater she formed on impact. Shards of pottery, glass, and dirt cut his face. A large rock hits him in the shoulder, denting his armor, but he's in the thick of a battle with lyrium withdrawal, waves of barrier magic, the very ground itself, and his body knows how to respond, how to dull the pain of a broken shoulder until later. He rolls with the hit and keeps moving, despite the dust and blood in his eyes.
"Kali-" he chokes out, reaching with his uninjured arm through the brown air.
She can't be- no, he thinks, cutting himself off before true panic sets in. I refuse to believe it until-
Beyond the yelling, the stone clattering, the screeches of birds...laughter?
No. Are you-
A wave of force magic almost knocks him back. It's wild, uncontrolled, the unintentional spurt of a nervous mage. He experienced much worse in the Circle, and grabs hold of the magic, using every ounce of his Templar training to wrestle it down with a Spell Purge. It's not as strong as it normally would be, given his lack of lyrium and practice. A wave of weariness washes over him. He pushes it back, going with his gut, following the laughter.
She's lying in the center of the crater, about ten feet down, holding a bloody arm and laughing her ass off. She's cut and bruised in various places, the arm she's holding is twisted funny, her eyes are dialated to their fullest, blocking out the pale green entirely.
And she's laughing.
He thought she died.
He blinks, and when he opens his eyes she's two inches from his face, eyes scrunched in pain, and he's shaking her, yelling at her at the top of his lungs.
"I thought you died!" he yells, using the same voice that he screams at his nightmares with. "What in the Void were you thinking?! You could have hurt someone-"
"Cullen," she whimpers, and he comes to.
What the fuck am I doing?
He sets her down carefully, grabbing her arm again when she stumbles.
"Cullen," she says again, a little unsteadier this time. His face flushes with shame. What had he been doing, lifting her up like that?
"I'm sorry," they say, to each other and themselves. Cullen's face heats up. For once, he's glad his face is injured-she can't see the blush beneath the blood and dirt.
"I shouldn't've tried that in Skyhold. I should've… been away. The Hinterlands, at the very least. I just...wanted you to see. That's all. That I can handle it. My magic. My flight. I wanted you to see my wings work. Wanted to inspire the Inquisition with their flying Herald-the Andrastians would see it as a sign instead of a work of magic. But instead I...well, I really fucked this up, didn't I?" she chuckles, sad and mournful, edged with pain.
"I think that's the biggest understatement of the Age, Kali."
She laughs again, this time more earnest, and his heart lifts. "Ow. Okay," she shrugs away from him, "that really hurts. Fenedhis. Fuck. Could you, ah, let me go? I think my arm's...broken."
He releases one arm and takes hold of the other-he doesn't like the look of that ankle. He breathes her name, and kisses her forehead. "I'm just glad that you're okay."
She smiles up at him, small and quiet. "Me, too." A breath, then her grin spreads into a full-on beam, and despite the pain scrawled across her brow her grin makes him soar as she almost did. "But did you see that barrier I summoned? Thank you, Anchor!"
He shakes his head and picks her up, carrying her like an infant out of the crater. "Yes, love. I saw you. We can discuss it all in great detail later. But first…I think we need to get you to a healer."