Dorian had never had much experience or need of knowledge pertaining to dwarves. There just were not very many in Tevinter to begin with, but the few things that did mention them in literature were side notes at the best. The sundering of the thaigs, reduced to three sentences in most history books. All accept that delightful little book he'd found in the back of his favorite shop on one hundred and one ways to cook nug. His mother just loved receiving that on her fourteenth 29th birthday. It had the rather unfortunate mishap of being 'accidentally' nudged into the fireplace, before her party guests arrived to celebrate her natal day with her.
Thankfully Skyhold's library was stocked in a much more diverse fashion. Or at least as evenly as the tranquil librarian could make it. There simply was not that much on Dwarves to begin with, they were a secretive society and seldom had contact with 'surfacers'. Dorian had all eight tomes and the two scrolls on the topic cluttered about his cubby as he tried to learn more about them in general.
He sighed dramatically to himself as he set down the first volume, it had contained very little helpful information besides a thousand years of genealogies and the obliging notes of some shaperate who tracked a steady decline in fertility scrawled in the margins. He picked up the first slim scroll with one hand while he sipped the last drops of a nice red wine with the other. His glass emptied simply too quickly for his tastes, but such was the way of good wine. His sharp hazel eyes took note of both documents that were labeled in the same scrolling text and each was crackled yellow with age. With an arched eyebrow he reached down and lifted the second one from his lap. Each scroll was far too light on its own to contain any real amount of knowledge, but they had piqued his curiosity. Carefully, he unrolled the first scroll, only to find what looked to be a Dwarven sermon about the ancestral worship and this thing they called the Stone. When he got to the second age-worn document, all he found was Brother Genitivi's personal opinion on how the Dwarven religion was set up.
"So it is the Fade and the meta-physics involved therein! Anything but another entry by that man!" Dorian moaned and flung the valuable scrolls to the side as he stood. The leather ensemble he wore creaked as he stretched his arms high above his head. The buckles shifted the limited candle light, reflecting it around himself as he walked over to the railing.
"A nice rousing argument is what I need. This place is by far too quiet for the hour." He said to himself as he leaned over the wooden rail. " Sol…"
"I fucked Cullen!"
Hearing Tempest say those three words were enough of a shock to him, but to hear Solas' reply was even a little more. Everyone knew Dwarves are completely cut off from the Fade! There had never been any documented exception to the rule, that magic and dwarves do not work together! From his browsing, Dorian had even discovered they had a small immunity to it. However if anyone was capable of breaking all the rules effortlessly, it was their red headed Inquisitor.
Dorian unobtrusively braced himself against the railing as he watched the scene unfold below. Once said woman was ushered quickly out of the round by Solas, Dorian called down to him. "I believe I might have a bit of information to share with you concerning that lovely lady."
No matter how she glared at the old, dark wooden door it would not suddenly disappear, nor did the reason she was standing in front of it. 'It' being the door to Commander Cullen's office suite. Tempest had stood there for several moments by the time she gathered her courage and opened the offending portal. Her boots thunk-ed on the worn wooden floor as she walked in and closed the door behind her to keep out the 'Skyhold chill' as the inhabitants had begun to call it. No wonder it had been abandoned time and time again, everyone had probably left for warmer halls and sunnier breezes. With her brow furled in a mixture of displeasure, disappointment and relief she glanced around the well-lit space. However, even as her eyes took in the empty chair, her brain argued that he could be up above… in his bedroom.
Tempest swallowed her nerves and took a calming breath as she called out. "Commander Cullen? I got your message that you needed me immediately?"
Her hands twined about each other in frustration. Just the phrasing of her own words sent her mind back to that dream, the caresses, and those ridged muscles. There had been so much of that need she craved within their imagined embrace. She'd felt it in her skin and it had lingered long after she'd awoken. Need. Pure and simple need. However she knew she had no chance with the handsome Commander. He would be destined to end up with some beautiful, willowy creature with fair skin, long blond flowing hair, eyes like a doe and with the brain of a cow.
" Oh! Yes Inquisitor, please come up the ladder." Cullen's smooth voice called down to her.
Maybe she had been too hasty in her judgement of his interest? With him asking her up into his bedroom, what else could it positively mean? Her mouth went dry at the implication. With a chance thought she turned around and slid the new pine lock home. She stood there for a moment looking at that little wooden tab, before she made the deliberate decision and trip to lock the other two doors. His hands sliding on her breasts and between her thighs, his mouth on her neck, and eventually far lower… dear Maker. How was she supposed to endure this?! This drive was as bad as the compulsion to draw several sweet breaths of clean air after a hard run, or more like gulping water to drown out a terrible thirst. But even as her mind was washed away in longing, a small part held on to a lingering rational. This was the shy, stammering man who led her armies. She really didn't want to be wrong and ruin their working relationship. It might be best to unobtrusively confirm before she climbed up that mountain or that ladder!
"Um, Cullen, are you inviting me into your bedroom?" Tempest said evenly as she could while her heart thundered inside her less than fully covered chest.
Silence. With each breath she took and let out her expectations were rapidly lowered. It wasn't as if he would be the first man to change his mind about her after extending the initial invitation. It was defiantly better he was changing his mind now rather than after she took her clothes off. That was one drunken night she was happy to remember only in the haziest of recognitions.
She smothered herself in the idea of rejection until Cullen finally chuckled and said, "Well, that is one way to say it, but trust me. You will regret it if you don't get up here and see this."
A nervous sort of joy enveloped her and it would not be stopped as it traveled through her body, causing her to jiggle in happiness. Thankfully she was able to control her mouth at least and only call up a smooth tone. "Be there in a moment."
She tried to imagine what she looked like but she recalled her mirror-less haste this morning with a grimace. Unsnapping another clasp on her jacket she reached inside to fluff her breasts up and together, in a daring display of cleavage. It would have to do, she thought ruefully as she placed her hands on the first rungs of the ladder and began to climb. Had it really been three years since she felt this rush? Since she and that delectable elf had passed-time together while sailing around the cape of the Free-Marches and up to Antiva.
She'd spent the two week voyage tracing his tattoos, licking along his scars and being made love to. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, always well. When they set into dock he kissed her breathlessly and disappeared into the crowd. Just as he said he would. He did not leave her without a memorable keepsake however. One evening when the ocean was quiet and the waves calm he convinced her to allow him to put a tattoo on her skin. She eventually relented and had two smooth faded lines inked around her left bicep that matched the design on her face.
Would Cullen like her tattoos? Would he spend time tracking them with fingers and tongue? Tempest pondered as she reached up to pull herself over the last rung and onto the wooden floor of the loft. Dusting her hands off onto her pants, she stood and looked around. Her eyes riveted to Cullen's supine form. His tall, armor-less frame was stretched across his bed. He held us upper body up off the down stuffed mattress with his chiseled forearms.
Somehow without his armor, Tempest felt he was just a little more intimidating somehow. Maybe it was how each and every one of his muscles stood out straining against the thin linen of his white shirt that he wore under his gambeson. She could no more stop her famished gaze as it took in those bunched and wonderfully large cords in his shoulders and back then she could stop the sun from setting or the moon from rising. Even his round ass showed signs of the same toned quality as the rest of him. An ass that begged to be grabbed in the throes of passion. His bottom that was so lusciously cradled in dark, buttery leather…
Her mouth nearly fell to the floor as motioned her to come to him, but quietly, with a beckoning hand and a single finger brought to his lush lips to touch the scar she most wanted to taste. Tempest felt a sexy smirk cross her face as her mouth pulled upwards. She slowly sauntered over to his prone body, all the while her thighs rubbed together causing sweet friction to spark into her core. Her breasts pebbled against the hard front of her corset. She finally arrived at the edge of his bed and leaned forward, placing a knee on the edge. Tempest reached out her hand and caressed on one of those bunched shoulder muscles that were driving her to utter distraction. She relished the heat that radiated off him, the spicy scent of human males lingered in her nose.
Just as Tempest leaned down to kiss the back of his neck, Cullen shifted, rolling onto his side. His movement was so sudden she lost her precarious sense of balance and crashed down on top of him. Time froze for her as Cullen's shocked face was covered and disappeared into the bare crevice of her corseted bosom. One heartbeat passed then, a second as she lay mostly on top of him, her nose in his pillows, both of them silent and still. Each waited for the other to react. Then time snapped back into its normal pace with a muffled groan to the Maker and one of his large, pinned hands pushed at her to get up. Limbs tangled as they both attempted to rise at the same time. Hands were misplaced on both their part, one such touch let Tempest know with unequitable certainty that all she had felt and thought since entering the tower was a delusion.
Tempest strangled the sob that threatened to come to the surface as she finally found herself free from the inappropriate and most likely unwanted embrace. Cullen lay on his side, his brightly blushing face inches from her own. His tawny eyes were wide and slightly fearful. Here was the Commander of the most prevailing force in Thedas, struck deft and dumb from a face plant into her breasts. Tempest knew they were magnificent, but to have felled such a powerful man so, it made her sad for both herself and him. Her own vestige was so warm that she knew her humiliation was obvious to the man whose pillow she currently shared. Tempest closed her eyes on the tears that began to form within.
"Inquisitor … I …are you alright? I …did not mean to injure you and well the umm… the …" Cullen began, but even with her closed eyes she easily found and shushed his lips with her free hand.
"It's … it's okay… I am okay Cullen. Just give me a moment." Panic and disgrace warred insider her, how had she been so wrong! A tear slid silently down her cheek and into her ear annoyingly. That discomfort helped pull her thoughts back to the moment at hand and away from the abyss insider of her. She used to believe the two were one, but as she grew older she found she had both a pit of rage and an abyss of sadness. Both lead to folly should she give in to either, she knew that from experience. She would not allow herself to go back to that place. With the back of her hands she scrubbed at her face and wiped the tear out of her ear with a swift digit.
"So what did you want to show me?" Tempest asked as she pushed herself up into a kneeling position on the ex-templar's bed and opened her eyes. She had not gained enough control of the delusional desires to open them with his own eyes and lips inches from hers. She counted each deep breath inside her head as she took them. One, she still felt the wet longing concentrated low in her body. Two, her skin still tingled where it had been pressed to his. Three, she feared her leash on it may snap and she would find herself kissing him. Four, but that would be more then wrong, it would be a violation of him. He didn't want her, why would he? Five, besides she would never do that to anyone, she just didn't have it in her. Sex was only good if both members were filled with want for each other, even then it took time and communication before it was great. She forced a mortified smile onto her face and opened her eyes expecting condemnations from the fair haired man. Instead she only saw concern in his dark amber gaze.
"Ahh ?… oh! If you are sure you are un-injured… my lady? The … um the ducklings are back again. Inquisitor…" Cullen said as he rolled back into the position that he had been in when she first crested the top of the wooden ladder. His body was once again relaxed and his attention on the crevice at the corner of his decoratively carved bed. Thank goodness, he thought it was an accident. Tempest muttered a wordless prayer of thanks to whatever was out there listening.
"Ducklings? Again?" she said as she motioned for him to move out of the way, for her to look. As Cullen rolled up and off the bed. Tempest found not even utter embarrassment could quell the desire that blazed through her mind. She could not help herself from thinking how good it would have felt to be under him. The weight of his pelvis against her own. Wrapping her thighs around his legs. His body briefly grazed hers as he made room for her to view the offending parties. Tempest shook her head to clear it and crawled across the Commander's bed to peer down. As her head neared the pillow-y imprint of Cullen's face she began to hear the tiny chirps and quacks of the baby ducks nested below his bed. Watching the tiny, fluffy creatures hop about and flutter their little wings eased away the rough edges of sorrow growing within her, from moments before. Tempest let out a feminine, breathy "awwwwww", that she hopped Cullen was far enough away to miss. She didn't need another embarrassment with him so soon after the last.
Tempest quickly became enamored by the littlest one with a white mark across his bill. He didn't shove the others away. Rather, he waited for a bit, then came up behind his larger siblings and pulled their tail feathers. While the bigger ducklings squabbled, he would then bob in get a few mouthfuls and return to his corner. This little rogue was simply adorable, it began to ease the ache of disappointment that remained inside her. Sitting back on her heels the Inquisitor looked over her shoulder and smiled at the warrior standing there. A bright giggle escaped her as a stray thought crossed her mind. "Why Cullen! I never knew you were a father!"
"Well I … What?" Cullen said as he scratched the back of head in what was his well-known gesture of nervousness. At least, it was well known to those who had the fortune of playing Wicked Grace with him. "They keep appearing! I remove them every morning and by the following sunrise, they are back again. I have a hunch that Cole might be behind this, could you talk to him? And get rid of those?
"Don't worry Commander," Tempest said with an exaggerated wink. "I will just take those Ducklings to the cook. She would be delighted to have…"
The audible pop of Cole materializing interrupted her jest. Cullen jumped as the boy spirit dove below the bed. "No Inquisitor! The ducklings are not for food."
With a swiftness that left her wanting to roll with laughter, Cole wiggled back out from under the bed, his hat full of ducklings. The thin youth was on his feet in moments. He held the hat full of downy creatures as far away from her as he could and still face her. His scraggly hair made it hard to discern, but Cole tightened his brows into a facsimile of exaggerated stubbornness. His face set in great, big disapproving lines as Tempest giggled louder and louder. Cullen good- naturedly joined in the laughter, his voice deeper and richer than her own. The sounds of their mirth echoed in the small stone tower. The laughter continued until she was nearly breathless and hunched over.
Soon as the hilarity died off, Tempest walked the scant steps between Cole and herself, hands held palms away from her to show the flighty spirit she meant no harm. The fathomless blue of his eyes meet hers, own then glanced back down to his brimming hat.
"Cole sweetling, why are you putting ducklings below Cullen's bed every night?" She murmured smoothly and soothingly.
Cole looked from her then to Cullen who was still standing behind her. "They make noise, they help Commander Cullen sleep."
"Cullen?" Tempest asked, implying the whole question in that simple word.
"I am sorry, Inquisitor. I am as lost as you are." He said as he retrieved his breast plate from where it resided on a wooden armor stand in the corner.
"Cold mist, sparkling water, ducks roost in the spring, stones float then sink, serenity, feels like the little room in the garden but no statue, a coin." Cole smiled at the end, obviously pleased with his iteration.
Metal clinked against metal as Cullen settled his defensive shell in place before he spoke again. "The lake, I understand now. Thank you, Cole, for trying to help. But I would rather you not place ducklings under my bed."
Tempest nodded, "Do you remember when we spoke about privacy, Cole?" She waited for the young man to transfer his cornflower blue gaze to her own in advance of her explanation. "Sometimes people need help but don't want it, because they want to fight through it on their own. It makes them stronger for having made it to the other side of their problems. Besides, I think these cuties need a better place than a drafty tower. We could move them to a location where you can care for them easier as well."
The pale new citizen to this side of the Fade blinked slowly at her as comprehension dawned on him through his empathic abilities. Tempest actively tried to make it easier for the spirit-boy to understand by concentrating on her compassionate thoughts of his downy charges. She waited patiently as his body slowly relaxed. First his brow unfurled, then smoothed out to reveal the unmarred skin of youth. His shoulders lowered into a more comfortable droop than the ear's high position they had been previously and his fingers unclenched, losing the pure white sheen that had bloomed along each joint.
"Ha he ha!?" Cole said belatedly trying to join in the amusement. A snicker resounded along the stone walls and Tempest whipped her head over her shoulder to glare indignantly at the only possible creator. Cullen froze, pinned in place by her icy gaze, like the clouds just after a winter storm. The description sent a jolt of nervous energy to his limbs. It made him break the prolonged glaring session to search for anything to do that would enable him to avoid her disappointment in his conduct. He knew the Herald was trying to teach the spirit how to behave around humans.
"Erm… Inquisitor, perhaps they might stay in the hay loft of the stables? It is warm and I am sure Dennett would not mind a few extra charges when you take Cole into the field with you." The Commander said with a smile, confident in his idea as a good solution.
A short, snorted giggle transformed Tempest's demeanor instantly. The overly charming smile and his excellent notion waylaid her temper before it gained momentum.
"What do you think Cole? Will that do?" She asked
"Hmm," Cole said smiling down at his hatful of charges. "But, how will the little rocks not sing for Cullen if the ducks go to live in the stables?" His voice was full of concern, but Tempest didn't have the slightest clue what he meant.
Once again she turned towards Cullen, only to find him right behind her with his gauntleted hand holding the end of her long braid. A sudden rebellious burst of arousal shot through her, making her blood quicken and her skin tingle. She had to get a hold of herself! She gulped slightly and licked her lips. 'It had to be something innocent didn't it?' Cullen shot her another smile. It nearly sizzled in the air. She knew he didn't desire, her so that was not it. But, what could it mean for him to take such liberty with her person? Before she could speak Cullen dropped her locks and began to scratch the back of his head in his trademark gesture of nerves.
"I told you how I stopped taking lyrium, the consequences of that are severe. I …shouldn't ask it is to…presumptuous, but …may I …When you are here obviously… will you allow me to? … I mean, I used to brush out and braid my sister's hair before bed. It has been so long… so I don't know how much it would really help. It used to relax me so much and I would always sleep so well those nights. Ermm… Inquisitor Herald Tempest, may I tend your hair before bed?"
"I…" She didn't know what to say. It was a very personal request. She did like her hair played with, but she had only had it done by her lovers before. But if it would help…
"It will help." Cole muttered as he used a single finger to scratch one of the ducklings' heads, who seemed to be enjoying it, by how it pushed back against his wiggling digit.
Tempest took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she nodded.
"Yes, that will be okay… so … let us all go get those ducklings some breakfast and then show them their new home! She murmured as she rushed past Cullen. The Dwarven rogue flung herself over the ledge, caught the top rung of the ladder and began to descend.
The trip down passed much quicker for Tempest than the climb up had been. Once her feet hit the solid floor, she dashed to the door. Leaning against the door she grasped the wooden sliding lock behind her back and glided it into the open position. Just as the toggle skimmed free, Cullen's armored boots swung over the edge of the loft. Tempest let out a relieved sigh. By the time he found the other doors locked she would be long gone and 'anyone' could be suspect as the office would be empty for some time while they all settled the ducklings.
'Makers, that bottom should be bronzed and worshipped.' Tempest found herself thinking as she watched Cullen climb down. 'What is wrong with me?' She tossed her head back and thumped it against the firm, dark wood, trying to clear it of the lascivious thoughts that danced within. A small whimper escaped her lips as the images shifted and turned horizontal behind her closed eyelids.
The acidic scent of the Fade made her eyes snap open just in time to see Cole and his wards materialize next to her. Many things about how and why the people here acted as they did confused the spirit boy. Tempest had been called to deal with many of his misunderstandings since she said he could stay in Skyhold. For a being who came from another reality entirely, she thought it was a small miracle he didn't have more events like today's. She counted Cole as one of her best friends to the perpetual vexation of the people around her.
She had taken him under her care almost immediately after the events at Haven. He had walked into the circle of firelight where 'The Herald Of Andraste' sat alone in the snow. She had saved those people only for them to place her on a sacred pedestal of loneliness. He offered her genuinely warm company without worship and she offered guidance when asked. By how fast he was looking between her and Cullen's descending bottom she was sure a question would be posed to her later tonight. Tempest had finally gotten the spirit of compassion to wait for others to be alone before asking for clarification on things that were of a more sensitive nature. He did it most times now, unless he was overly excited or surprised by some insight he gleaned.
She gave Cole's fore shoulder a light pat, trying to transmit her gratefulness of his silence as she opened the door and passed under its frame, out into the sunshine. She made it through the ajar archway moments before she heard Cullen's boots reach the solid floorbeams with a jingle behind her.
Their strange and nearly silent procession over the tower bridge was only marked by the low ringing of Cullen's armor and the excitable peeping of the ducklings. His gear lost its melodic quality as he dashed, clanging over the last few steps to hold open the rotunda door for her. How much could she put up for a man she wanted to peel out of his armor and pants to do atrocious, unmentionable things to? The door irritated her, she had requested he not hold it for her many times before. Equal to how many times she requested he call her by name at least, right? Regardless, she forced a stiff pleasing smile onto her face and entered the dimly lit entryway to the lower floor of the round.
As the heavy wooden door closed, Tempest was forced to squint in the sudden dimness of the pass-through. Cullen after closing the door behind himself came to a sudden stop because of her halting the convoy mid-stride while adjusting to the lack of light. She could practically feel the heat that rolled off his warrior frame. His body was so close to hers that if she were to tilt her head back she would be looking up into those tawny eyes, or could be, if her eyes adjusted quicker.
As her vision gradually increased in clarity, she was forced to rub her eyes to clear them of the delusion in front of her, but to no avail. Solas and Dorian were each seated on opposite sides of Solas' desk, quietly flipping through what looked to be a small mountain of books. A scrunched patrician nose and a faint line between the perfectly manicured eyebrows was all the animosity they shot at each-other over the top of the book built Anderfels. Tempest blinked again, but she had to admit what she saw before her was the two least likely research partners deep into a subject together. Neither seemed particularly pleased by the fact as told by the slightest hint of a scowl on both their faces.
Muttering a litany of apologies, Commander Cullen stepped around Tempest and swept past the mage-flavored-palate of scholarly brotherhood. He dashed ahead and opened the door to the main hall. The sight of the valiant warrior as he ducked his head and scurried across the open aired, interior section, of the rotunda never failed to tease a grin from Tempest. She didn't know who had originally told the Commander to be wary of falling scat, though she did suspect Sera might have had a hand in it. Whoever it had been, she had to give them the golden nug, to tell Cullen that the birds preferred to desecrate shiny objects took some real guts. Even better was that no one as far as she was aware had tried to tell the wayward ex-templar about the mage-tended scat net positioned just inches below the rookery floor. Tempest held in a bout of laughter as she imagined Cullen locked in the rotunda, but a deep, cheek burning smile decorated her face as she strolled to the center of the room.
She had never been one to let a perfect opportunity pass her by and the deep concentration personified by the two spell slingers seated at the desk, was without a doubt one of the more rare varieties. The skills of a rogue made the trip to the desk nearly silent as death, but once she was inches from her intended victims, she found she could not make up her mind! What prank could she do to these two tricky characters? She briefly considered waiting unseen until they inevitably put a weight baring elbow on the desk, then giving it the old bar-maid hip nudge. However, that seemed too easy of a lark for such a momentous occurrence. The Classics, then she decided. A classic practical joke never failed, just because they were so deceptively simple. She had just began to reach for a heavy tomb when, a piercing blue grey set of eyes pinned her in place.
Her mood soured further as she was thwarted by his shaming gaze, like he knew exactly what she had intended. His grey eyes rolled up and away as she removed her hand from the large book she had meant to use in the classic book slamming hoax. Solas closed his book with a heavy sigh of exacerbation and placed in in what looked to be his 'done' pile. It towered surprisingly high when compared to the Altus'.
"I am pleased you have come Inquisitor." Solas said as he reached for the last book in his 'in' stack, his use of her title made tempest purse her lips in genuine displeasure. She knew all her irritation was not the apostate's fault, but today was starting to wear on her and it hadn't even passed the noon chiming. She could physically feel the tension as it gathered in the joints of her body. Perhaps Cassandra would indulge her and crack her back for her later on. For now, Tempest rolled her neck all the way around, she paused once she felt the area with the most tension. Then with the back of her hand under her chin and a carefully measured application of pressure, a set of satisfying crackles resounded from her spine.
"Fasta vass! How can you do that?" Dorian swore as he closed the latest of his literary conquests. "Just the sound alone sends shivers down MY spine."
Cole at this point had long since passed through the portal, which left Cullen bravely lingering by the door for her. Unsure of how long the Inquisitor was going to dawdle, he allowed the hefty wooden door to swing shut on its own, and to lean against the wall to wait. Tempest could not resist the urge to glance at his relaxed form, her night time fantasy reemerging once again. With a loud screech of wood drawn across stone, Dorian stole her attention back to him. The Altus stood from the well-padded and decorative seat that had been dragged from around the great-hearth in the main hall, which Varric had claimed for his own. "Buck up, Commander since you are here you might as well be in on our little problem."
Tempest's eyes widened in fear of her 'dream' being told to the object of that desire, but Dorian gave her no time to speak as he continued with a devious smirk.
"Our pointy-eared friend and I are not only talking about the fact a dwarf dreamed and all that might imply, but also you seem to be able to crack open the Fade a smidge around yourself, dear Tempest." The Tevinter mage gestured with both hands high in the air, arching around himself. "It was quite a sight. There I was in our pavilion trying to dry out my unmentionables and you trudged into camp! Then you proceeded to strip naked in the rain, not that I blame you with how filthy you had gotten! Not with standing, it is what happened at the end of your little striptease, which is of real interest! My Dwarven darling, you were stuck by lightning! Per contra, instead of frying to a little crispy critter like all us normal people, you had the extraordinary audacity to not only come out unscathed but to put up a dome shield that sucked the lightning's energy straight into the Fade! Never let it be said our lovely Inquisitor did anything in half measures! Our little troublemaking Herald, you!"
Silence reigned as both unaware parties ruminated the information they just received each in their own way. The experienced Commander recovered first, picking up the mantel of authority in the four swift strides it took for him to reach the desk. Cullen stood firmly at the other end of the wooden, rectangular workspace and crossed his arms, without a hint of fear regarding bird droppings.
"Is it a danger to herself or Skyhold?" Cullen asked.
"Well naturally yes and no you see…" Dorian began only to be interrupted by Solas as he stood and joined in the conversation.
"We are not certain yet, but we suspect it will itself cause no danger. However, we are already aware of one side effect and should be cautious and diligent that more may manifest in the days to come." Solas said as he slipped a feather into the tome he had just begun to read. The use of feathers was his iconic marker, woe betide the librarian or any other reader who removed one. It was rumored nearly every book on magical instruction to be found in Skyhold contained at least one.
Tempest still mulled over the fact that she had 'cast' any sort of spell. First the dream and now this, how much worse can this day become? She would have to spar with Cassandra later. The urge to kill things or at least toss around furniture had become undeniable. When she felt herself get into such a state, it was often Cassandra she went to. No one else seemed to be able to take not only the ferocity and guile of her attacks but also the duration. Before the mark claimed her, she had never had this level of stamina or sheer power.
"Maker's breath." Cullen said as he put both hands flat on the desk and leaned forward. "Get to the point, what does this mean right now?"
"It means, Commander, that we need to finish our research on the subject and perhaps run a few tests. In the later, your assistance would be of great value by assigning a few trusted guards to clear a section of the outer baily of civilians while we conduct the experiments." Solas intoned evenly.
Cullen hung his head and paused for a moment to consider. The decision was simply out of his hands. He knew that the two best people to unravel this tangle were here, on either side of the Herald. "And you will have th…
Four sets of wide surprised eyes snapped to the lower rotunda door as an out of breath and loudly gangling recruit rushed into the room. The young man, hooded and cowled in the Inquisition's colors, walked the last few steps before snapping to attention.
"Message for you, Ser." He stammered out as he held out and unsealed note to her. Tempest was impressed with how steadfast he remained when she glared at the messenger. She would have done more than stammer in fear in his place.
Tempest snatched the sheet of thick paper from his hand and swiftly read it.
"Sir Moris says that there is an urgent need for a fresh supply of rashvine."
"I. Can. Read!" Tempest bit out a snapping reply. With those three little words she felt her long fought for control over her temper disintegrate. Her nose and brow furrowed into a scowl and she gnashed her teeth forcefully together at the end of each word as she advanced on the now terrified messenger. Her rage burned blacker then the sootiest fire inside her. "What is your name?"
"Mmmy I… My Name ? Mmmmm mam' Ser!….J….J…..JIM. Ser!" He stumbled both over his words and uncooperative feet.
"Well, Jim?" She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. "You would think of all the people in the Inquisition, that the Inquisitor Herself has to be the just right person to fucking run out on an Herb Gathering Errand?" Taking another step towards Jim as he retreated, "Maferath's hairy arse! What? I am just sitting around, teaching fennecs to dance and would be pleased as the Maker's bride to run out and pick twice blighted flowers for everyone's booboos? Like I do not have enough to do! This is Darkspawn Shite! No one has the brains of a nug in this blasted place to have a simple standing order for the troops? See, it's simple, spot an herb by the side of the shoddy road and pick it! Lazy, slack-jawed louts! It was one thing at Haven when every hand was needed, when the fate of nations didn't depend on whether I had bathed that day or not! But now, we have recruits falling out of Aeducan's ass beard, let them go pick the bloody rashvine! Ass-biscuits and bronto piss, that counts for the rocks and metals too! Andraste's bloody nether cloths!"
With each sentence, Tempest advanced on the trembling messenger, until his courage broke and he fled. But the boiling pit inside her still sung in her veins. So when the door swung shut before her, she lashed out and hit the door with the bottom of her fist. She stood that way and seethed inside, each breath becoming smoother and deeper as she tried to calm herself. Pushing off the door to the main hall, Tempest stalked to the door she had entered from. She yanked it open forcefully.
"I need some air. Don't send a messenger when you find something. Come get me yourself." She said over her shoulder as she walked out into the bright morning sunshine.
