Door. Stones. Feet in front of each other. Mountains. Wind. Fresh air. Sundown.

The sun had set far more sooner than Alarion had realized. But he kept running. At some point, he should've gotten tired, but he hadn't yet. Each step felt like his very soul was flying. He couldn't, wasn't thinking. Somehow, everything was okay. Nothing was wrong. He was just running, leaping, flying. Pure freedom.

He reached the door Varric had led them through earlier. He gave it a yank before his mind reminded him that it was someone's room. The thought froze him, feeling his sweat drip down his back. His mind only had the briefest thought that wondered if he was still not in before he felt his entire body screamed at him to escape.

At the sound of the door opening, a man dressed in what looked like feathers or a cat jolted towards him, hand grabbing the sword at his side. The candlelight flickered across his face, giving Alarion full view as his expression went from intense readiness before blinking in surprise; until his eyes slowly widened in realization.

Alarion's heart slammed against his chest. His sweat grew cold. They just stared at each other for a long while until the man ran a scratched the back of his head. "Sweet Maker. You really are alive."

There were no words to respond. Alarion was completely frozen in place.

"Uh," he closed his eyes, raising two hands up with a sign of no harm. "I, uh… you don't look ready to talk. Do you know who I am?"

Alarion nodded, then gulped. "You're Curly, right?"

For some reason, that made him laugh. "Cullen, actually. My name is Cullen Rutherford. Don't worry. I know you don't remember me. It's, uh, well, really, really great to see you alive. Do you need me for something?"

Gulping again, he shook his head.

"Well, alright." He scratched the back of his head again. "Uh, if you don't want to talk to me right," he sighed, "that's fine."

Alarion nodded, then took a step back.

"Does anyone know where you are?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want me to keep this quiet?"

He nodded again.

"Yes Inquis– uh, Lavellan. Wait, Alarion."

He took another step back. Slowly, he turned away before hesitation stilled his step. This 'Cullen' was his friend. Even if Alarion didn't remember him, he still had been kind and understanding.

Maybe it was as Cole said. They were still his friends. And they wanted to be his again.

He gulped again, desperately trying to get himself to speak until he finally whispered, "Cullen?"

He could do it. He could do it. Just ask!

"Would… would you teach me, um, chess?"

While he didn't dare turn around to see his expression. But, even still, he could hear the clear relief in his sigh. And, if he didn't know any better, the man sounded either close to tears or was crying. "Yes. Maker, yes. I'd like that. A lot."

"Th… I… thank you."

Without waiting, Alarion turned and began to run again. His mood felt significantly lighter, made only better by each step and each jump.

His legs were shaking, but he kept going.

Just one more step. One more running leap. One more flying through the air. Just one more and Alarion was sure the feeling would stick.

His eyes focused on the only light he could see; the tavern in front of him.

For some reason, he felt no fear as his feet just began to take off. He jumped without a thought, the flying feeling just like being free. He could do this. His feelings would stick.

With a grunt, he landed roughly on the tiles, pausing only long enough to ensure that it supported his weight. Nodding, he rose and began to run to the top, convinced he needed to see the view from the top of the… tavern? Inn?

Bare feet padding across the rough shingles, the lightest of sounds. His breathing was heavy, panting into the silent darkness. But despite the groaning of his muscles, his run ended as he came to the top the roof.

Instead of some specular view taking his breath away (further than it already was), Alarion instead let out a yelp and nearly fell as a voice snarled at him in the night.

"Oh, piss off and find yer own roof!"

His eyes adjusted quickly, allowing him to spot a small blond-haired elf just in time to see her turn around. "I said, piss off! Do you got shit in…" her voice trailed off as her gaze lingered on him.

Alarion's mouth attempted to move a few times before the words, "Why are you on the roof?" came out instead of, "Who are you?"

"Oh piss!" Her body crutched up into a tense ball, looking as though she was ready to jump. "Shit, crap, fuck, shitballs, fuck, shite, arse, crap! You're him, aren't you? Shit, shite, shitty shite!"

Alarion took a step back, not sure how he managed to scare this girl into a floundering mess of curses, but he didn't mean to. "I'm sorry!"

"Shite, arse, crap, fuck!" The elf began to violently shake her head. "You sound like him too! But you're friggin' not! Dots's dead. You're dead. But then you're not! But you're not Dots! Shite!"

"Dots?"

"Pissballs! Get the fuck away from me!" Without a glance back, the girl let out a snarl that sounded somewhere in between a threat and a whimper before she took a running leap off the roof. Alarion's strangled noise of concerned fright died in his mouth. He ran forward, hoping not to see a body.

A rush of relieved air escaped his lips as he noticed a smaller roof below him that had an easy access to a window. After glancing around for a moment, he shrugged and lowered himself down gently. The titles groaned under his weight so he quickly moved towards the window. To his relief, he found it ajar and leading towards a room full of brightly colored cushions and pillows.

As he slipped through the window his nose was greeted with the smell of fresh flowers. With the moonlight faintly casting through the window, only Alarion's elven eyes allowed him to see anything of the room. From what little he could see, however, there was not a single bland color in the entirety of it. Plush rugs decorated the floor, soft beneath his bare feet. A long couch dotted with a large collection of pillows all bright. The floor was a large cluster of a mess or various objects and décor, yet it didn't seem to give off a 'messy' feel.

In all, Alarion felt a small smile flutter across his face. If the room looked this cozy and nice, he'd love to see it when the sunlight came streaming through all those windows.

With a quick glance to his left, he spotted a door that was slightly ajar. Candlelight, music, and loud chatter came from the other side. Though it seemed inviting, Alarion hesitated. After running and climbing through the chilly air and the correspondingly icy silence that accompanied it… Alarion wasn't sure he was ready for the warmth of a tavern full of people. Biting his lip, he slowly turned towards the still open window. The outside was still there. He could just go back out.

The thought gave him shivers. Hugging himself, he glanced down at his arms, noting the long line of goosebumps. Maybe running around (gathering a sweat) in the freezing cold without any form of a jacket may not have been the best plan he had to date. Still, it was freeing and thoughtless. Exactly what he had needed.

Turning back towards the door, Alarion took a deep breath, attempting to bullying himself into going forward. It's not like I have to talk to anyone if I don't want to.

Just as he took a step toward, he heard a small ruffle behind him. He immediately froze before whipping his head around. Though his eyes scanned with prejudice, he was unable to spot anything. After wondering if he was imagining things, he remembered that small elf girl from the roof. She likely came through the window too. Maybe she was hiding somewhere in the dark, concealed in the shadows of the various items lying around?

Should he look for her?

Frowning, Alarion shook his head at his own thoughts. She had seemed terrified when she saw him. Why? It wasn't like Alarion had done anything to her. Regardless of logic, it seemed almost cruel to go looking for someone that was frightened of him.

"I'm not sure if you're in here or not," Alarion said suddenly. Feeling self-conscious, he ran a hand through his hair. If he was imaging things, it probably looked very ludicrous to any passerby to see an elf talking to himself in the dark. "And if you are, you don't have to come out if you don't want to. Not sure exactly what I did, but I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean to. If you ever want, I'll apologize to your face." He gave a short laugh. "That is… if you're in here at all. I could just be talking to myself." He paused, hoping to hear some form of reply. When he got nothing, he gave a huff of a laugh again, running a hand through his hair again without thought. "Yup, probably talking to myself. I'm… I'm going to go." He jerked a thumb towards the door. "You know… So I can stop talking to myself."

Shaking his head, he walked out the door, feet barely making a sound against the wood below. The door led to a small hallway with candles and voices from every direction. He felt his body tense and hesitate before he shook his head. He had this. He could do this. It was just people!

Forcing himself forward, the elf wandered through the hallway that eventually turned to his right. From there, he had a perfect view of the floor below. There was a large group of dwarfs, elves, and humans wearing similar armor drinking and singing together. One, in particular, was being especially loud. When Alarion's eyes landed on him they widened as his jaw dropped.

That was single-handily the largest person he had ever seen in his life! He sat on a stool, grey chest bare against his loose green flowing pants. Fully muscled skin flexed with every movement. Alarion tried to ignore the way his face lit up red. But that vanished in an instant as his eyes kept going up. His face was deeply scarred, located mainly around a single eyepatch. And from his head spouted two large horns, sharp and tall. Though his face was smiling and his voice booming, Alarion took a step away from the railing, hoping the man didn't see him. The large booming laughter that followed his retreat certainly implied he hadn't been noticed.

What in the Maker's name was he?

Not downstairs then.

He looked around a little more, spotting steps leading upstairs as well. Seeing that very little people were paying him any attention (if any), he began towards the steps. Before going up, he noticed that it was significantly darker up there. That didn't discourage him, however, and he kept climbing.

As he reached the top, he found it empty of almost anything except for a single chest and a small staircase leading to another door. It was empty but warm and still close enough for the music to drift up. Grinning, Alarion headed over to his right where the trunk was. Still beaming, he sunk down next to it, eyes closed, feet propped up on the chest, and back against the wall.

From there, he just focused on the fading music and the overlapping chatter of voices. The music especially though. It seemed to filter above the rest and engulf him entirely.

Sera was never quite an agreeable girl—

Her tongue tells tales of rebellion.

But she was so fast,

And quick with her bow,

No one quite knew where she came from.

Sera was never quite the quietest girl—

Her attacks are loud and they're joyful.

But she knew the ways of nobler men,

And she knew how to enrage them.

She would always like to say,

"Why change the past,

When you can own this day?"

Today she will fight,

To keep her way.

She's a rogue and a thief,

And she'll tempt your fate.

Sera was never quite the wealthiest girl—

Some say she lives in a tavern.

But she was so sharp,

And quick with bow—

Arrows strike like a dragon.

Sera was never—

"Hey you!" Once again, the voice came out of the darkness without warning. This time around, Alarion did fall as he yelped. His feet slide off as did so, hitting the back of his head on the wall. Wincing and rubbing it, he glanced up to see the same elf from before glaring at him in the candlelight.

"Ugh!" Her face scrunched up similar to that time a slave had been forced-fed a lemon. "Why are you so jumpy?"

"You surprised me." Alarion grimaced. He stared at her for a second, debating if he should get up or not.

"Yeah, well, shut it!" She snapped, looking furious. "You shouldn't be jumpy! You were never jumpy before!"

"Sorry?" Alarion shrugged, not sure what else to say to that.

"Shut that too!" She snapped, folding her arms. "I don't wanna hear it!"

"What do you want me to say?" Alarion wasn't sure if his curiosity or irritation came forward more.

"I dunno!" She kicked the chest, still lying near Alarion's feet. "Stuff!" There was silence, but only for a moment before the elf glared at him again. "You're not nothing, right?"

"I'm not… what?"

"Nothing!" She snarled, waving a hand about. "You know! Your memories or mind or some shite like that are nothing or something! I need to know that you're not nothing too!"

"My memories? Oh… I," He gulped, feeling the guilt and awkwardness rising by moment. "Um… I take it I knew you?"

The elf looked shattered for a moment, grief flashing across her stunned face before it turned straight back into anger. "That's right, you little shit! We were friends! Fri-ends. Proper friends! You told me I was family!" She jabbed a finger at him, face twisted in what was undoubtedly fury. "'Just like a sister'. But did that stop you from going and getting your arse handed over to some shitheads? No!"

"Uh, I'm unsure–"

"No! Cause see it's all my fault really. I didn't want to go. All those elf-y elves all standing round talking elf-y things. Plus, the Free Marchers is shit. Skyhold was all nice and here, yeah?" Her eyes soften at this point, staring at him. "But then you were dead. I could'da watched your back, yeah? Stuck the baddies with arrows. But I didn't. So people died. You died."

Alarion watched in silence as she turned away before spinning back with her face back into a glare. "I'm done talking. Done. We're going to get shitfaced instead."

When she held out a hand to help him up, Alarion only hesitated for a moment before she hauled him to his feet with surprising strength. "Shitfaced?"

"Drunk, you daft man." She rolled her eyes, heading towards the stairs.

"Ah, wait!" Alarion felt his body tense, unmoving. "I… um…"

The girl searched his face for a moment. "What? You forget how your legs work?"

"What? No! No, I," he shook his head to avoid speaking at first. "I don't want to be around a lot of people."

"What? Frigging daft you! Rather spend your time up here where Creepy used to haunt? Ugh! Creepy that."

Alarion shuffled his feet, not wanting to admit that the large man with the horns below scared him.

"Ugh. Fine! But we're drinking in my room. Come on then, you." The elf mumbled, glaring at him. Alarion, diligently, followed. As he watched her stomp down the stairs, he couldn't help but ask.

"Why are you angry with me?"

"Ugh, frigging daft you!" She shook her head, turning a corner and heading towards the door Alarion had left out of earlier. "Bull comes in all big-like asking about my latest Jenny stuff and how I was doing and shit. Knew something was up. So I told him to spit it out with some ale. He just asks about how I was doin' with you being dead and all. I told him to shut it and shove it up his ass. I was fine and just didn't want to talk about it! But then he says how he's learned a secret, yeah? A real big one. And I thought it'd help Red Jenny stuff and shit. So I told him to spit it out, big guy. Turns out the secret was you being alive. If he had been lyin', I would've shot him full of arrows! Then, then he wasn't lying, I figured this was good news, yeah? Dots being alive and all. So why look so down?

"Well, turns out that the Qunari or those Tevinter bastards did something to yer head to make you forget all about me and Skyhold and the Inquisition and all that rubbish! And I figured that meant you were dead anyway, right? No memories and all. And if you were dead but still walking about, then meant you were nothing on the inside." She shuddered before opening the door now in front of them. "So then I saw how you didn't know who I am. Yer eyes were so wide. You looked empty. So I got scared and ran, yeah? But then you followed me through the window and all. You didn't see me, but I was watching you. Even when you first came through with Creepy I was watching you.

"You didn't know who I was, but you still were worried about me. So I wanted to make sure you weren't nothing. Like, maybe, you do know who I am. But you don't! And you're also not nothing! Ugh! You make my brain hurt."

"I... I don't think I understood that. Really at all."

"Shut it!" The girl snapped. Angrily, she lit a lantern and the room was cast in a flickering candle glow. Without looking at him, she began to rummage through a trunk on the ground. "I told you that I'm done talking! Why are you still talking?"

Alarion debated about pointing out that she had said quite a good deal while he only spoke a few sentences, but decided against it. "Can I get your name?" He asked instead.

"Sera. Now shut it and drink." With that, she turned around and thrust a vial of some unknown liqueur into his hands and took a long swing from hers. Shrugging, Alarion figured he didn't have anything to lose. He sat down on a cushion and took a long drink as well.