Chapter 7: Sleep
Evelyn wandered the farm looking for Cullen. She had fallen asleep the previous night, after her cathartic sparring session, without any kind of pomp, circumstance, or blood magic. As he'd done before, Cullen carried her back to her room. She woke filthy, muddy, bruised, sore and rested.
After she cleaned up, she made the decision to find him and...well, after that she didn't know. She just felt like finding him and it was nice to wake up for once wanting to do something.
She passed the stables and walked down into one of the far pastures. There was a small out building in the distance she'd yet to explore, not that she'd done much exploring since she arrived.
When she approached she saw Rylen sitting on a rickety chair outside of what looked like a worn old storage shed. He was keeping watch over a makeshift moonshine still. The thing was cheerfully billowing smoke up into the sky and the former Knight-Captain was cheerfully sipping from a jug with his feet propped up on a tree stump. He waved her over. As she drew closer she noticed he wore an ugly black and blue reminder of their match yesterday right across his face.
"You broke my nose." He said casually.
"I...I did?" She was mortified. She was about to offer profuse apologies when she realized it was also nice to feel that kind of reaction. Any kind of reaction. To feel anything novel at all that wasn't her relentless never ending misery.
"Aye." He smiled and nodded his head. He took another swig from the jug and then offered it to her.
"Isn't it a bit early?" She asked with a dubious glance at the shifty set up.
He rolled his eyes, cocked an eyebrow at her, then offered it up again. She sighed and took a sip. The noxious brew burned the whole way down her throat and into her chest. She found she liked the feeling of that too. Passing the jug back to him, she started a proper apology.
"I'm so sorry Ser Rylen. My behavior was inexcusable, I hope you know that I…"
He interrupted her with laughter, his still tired-looking eyes crinkling at the corners in lighthearted amusement. "It's been broken more than once before, lass, I actually meant to thank you for the good fight. It's been a while. And don't feel too bad. I got in a few good hits of my own that I'm sure you're feeling this morning as well. You were just a mite too wild in the head to notice yesterday." He leaned back in his chair, exuding a relaxed attitude and an ease of spirit. "Looking for Cullen?"
"Yes, I was. Do you know where he is?"
"Had to go into town for the day. Won't be back 'til late. Said if you needed him sooner you're welcome to a horse. You could ride into town yourself to see him."
Evelyn scoffed. "Well, it's lucky I don't need anything because we both know that isn't going to happen." She grabbed back the moonshine and helped herself to another sip.
Rylen shrugged. "Can't say I blame you. People are...well, they're people. Sometimes I miss my little oasis in the desert."
Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him. "You miss Griffon Wing Keep? Are you serious? That place was a death trap in the middle of the Maker forsaken desert. You know, for a long time I thought Cullen sent you there as some kind of punishment."
Carefree laughter erupted again from the former commander of Griffon Wing Keep. "It was remote, quiet and on any given day I'll take a pack of varghests over people. People are exhausting all the time. Varghests are only exhausting until you kill them. And they're not bad eating. The Varghests. Not people, obviously."
Evelyn just stared at him, mouth hanging open, too confused to think of anything to say in reply.
Rylen got up from his chair with a wince, suggesting the bruise on his face wasn't the only one he suffered yesterday. "So, if you'll just be waiting for Cullen then feel free to sit here. You can keep an eye on this contraption while I go take a piss. Make sure it doesn't explode." He walked off around the back of the shed, leaving Evelyn staring at the still.
At least you're being useful.
So, she sat. Rylen returned promptly, carrying another chair with him, and he sat back down. They were silent for a short while, watching the grasses sway in the breeze, watching the birds cross the sky and passing the jug between them. Another very short while later, they were drunk.
"Your man's an arse." Rylen's speech slurred a little, his brogue catching on the words.
"What?" Evelyn blinked and tried to focus on her drinking companion's blurry bruised face.
"Cullen. I've told him that, you know. Several times. He should have begged you to have him way back then." He waved his hand to emphasize a distant time point in the past. "He should have apologized for being an arse and then begged you to have him after the war. He should have gotten on his sanctimonious knees and groveled after we disbanded. But he didn't. He's an arse." Rylen took a deep pull from the jug and then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
"Ah well. If you live life not regretting anything, you haven't lived much, eh? And I like to think every day I'm still living is a chance to go back and fix things. Or at least find a way to stop making them worse. Can't go back to before I took my vows but it feels damn good not taking the lyrium now. When it doesn't feel like I'm dying that is."
Rylen stood and gave the now empty jug back to Evelyn. "Feel free to fill it up again if you dare. As for me, I think this is going to fast become a very vivid regret." He held a hand to his stomach as if to try and convince it to keep hold of his breakfast. Before he turned and left her, he added one thing. "It's none of my business but I'd appreciate it if you could push him along a little with the whole 'begging you to have him' thing. I'd like my room back sometime soon."
Evelyn didn't respond. She wasn't even sure she would begin to know how to respond to whatever that bizarre interaction was she just had. She didn't fill the jug, but she did continued to sit there until midday when the sun was high in the sky.
Struck by another strange motivation, she got up and went back to the field where the Templars usually trained, where she had joined them last night. Her staff was propped up against an old fence next to an assortment of swords used for practice. There was no one around, but she took up her weapon and went through her forms alone, working out the kinks and tightness in her muscles from yesterday's exertions. She went on like this for a long time, a pleasant quietude filling her head as she focused on her breathing and her position, the balance of her staff and the living pulse of her magic.
Living. She felt alive.
Just after sunset, another storm came and forced her inside. She didn't want to quit her exercises but she also wasn't in the mood to get drenched again. And she was hungry. She made her way to the large kitchen, grateful it was also empty. She managed to pull together a simple meal for herself. And it smelled good.
No sooner had she tucked in than a soaking wet Rylen stomped through the door from outside. He shook himself off like a dog and sat down across from her at the table. He helped himself to the extra food.
"Mind if I join you?" His mouth was already full.
"Doesn't seem like I have much of a choice." She said wryly.
"Nope." He said around another mouthful. "By the way, I'm calling in what you owe me."
"What?"
He pointed to his nose and smiled. "You owe me. I'm collecting. I want my room back tonight. You can sleep in Cullen's room. He won't ride back through that storm out there. He'll stay in town tonight most likely and come back in the morning. So, the place is free for the taking."
"You'll recall I didn't want to displace you from your room in the first place." She said defensively.
"Hahaha calm down, lass, I was happy to do it but tonight I've organized a game of Wicked Grace to enjoy along with that moonshine you helped me tend this morning and I'm fairly certain Cullen would rather you bunk down in his room than half a dozen drunken sods passed out after a night of gambling. So I'll take my room back just for tonight then I'll hand it over to you again. That is unless you want to join us? For the game. Not me and Cullen in his bedroom. I mean, I'm not saying I wouldn't. I could be convinced."
"No. Thank you." She wasn't sure what she was saying 'no' to. Probably everything. And she probably said it quickly enough to be considered rude but it had been ages since she'd spoken with anyone besides Cullen as much as she'd spoken with Rylen today. Working through some pent up anger on the training ground was one thing. Making small talk over cards was quite another. She could lie awake in Cullen's room as easily she could in any other. "It's all yours."
After finishing an awkward meal together, where Rylen prattled on and on about nothing, she immediately went to bed. She couldn't decide if it was listening to all the talking that had her so exhausted or if it was the physical activity from that afternoon. Either way, even if she couldn't find sleep she wanted to lie down. Slowly opening the door to Cullen's room, she paused for a moment before entering.
That smell again.
Closing her eyes she inhaled deeply, letting herself indulge, then she stepped in and shut the door behind her. The space was neat but full and lived-in. Both the cot in the corner, where she imagined Rylen slept, and Cullen's bed were made up with military corners on the sheets.
You can take the Templar out of the Order…
Evelyn tiptoed and kept both her good arm and the amputated one tucked in close to her body as if she was trying not to disturb anything, but her intention to not be disruptive was quickly abandoned when she realized the window by the bed was wide open and a puddle from the downpour outside was collecting on the floor beneath it.
She closed the shutters and found a few towels to mop up the mess. She'd heard once that the tower Cullen used to sleep in back at Skyhold had a hole in the roof he purposely never got fixed. She remembered she used to think she'd see it in person one day and then she would ask him why. She never did get invited up there.
Did he always leave his window open? Was it for the same reason he never had the roof fixed? You should ask him.
Ignoring her curiosity, that she couldn't act on right now even if she wanted to, she kicked off her shoes and sat in the large, soft-looking chair by the bed. It was soft and she snuggled into it.
Her eyes roamed over the rest of the room while she sat, listening to the rain beat against the closed shutters. There was a sizable cushion on the floor in a corner with a chewed up stuffed toy on top of it.
Of course his dog sleeps in here, he's a Fereldan.
A chess set sat on the footstool in front of her. On the dresser, three different combs were set out in a neat row next to a shaving razor. And hung on a rack by the door was his old red mantle that he used to wear against the cold of the Frostbacks.
On an impulse she got up and retrieved it. When she wrapped it around herself and settled back into the chair, it was warm as she expected, but it was also...comforting. It smelled like him, of course, but it was also felt familiar. She remembered how confident she always thought he looked when he wore it and thinking of those times, it reminded her of a time when she too felt confident.
Cradled in the comfort of Cullen's room, nestled inside his cloak, she felt confident letting her memories flow freely. When normally she fought hard to push them away, scenes of battle, defeat, loss, despair always becoming too much too quickly for her, this time she recalled other things.
Laughter. Belonging. Pride. Victory. She'd known her share of those things too. Why then were they so hard to remember sometimes, overshadowed by the darker scenes and all the pain? She remembered days when she genuinely thanked the Maker she was still alive. Why then did she lament each new sunrise that found her still living now? She didn't want to. She wanted to greet each day as if there was something she could make of it. Like today. Her day wouldn't have amounted to much for someone else perhaps. It wouldn't have even amounted to much for who she used to be. But it had been a good day.
Lulled by this unexpected respite from the heavy weight of her negative emotions, her eyelids grew heavy. Her thoughts grew foggy. The sound of the rain grew distant and before she knew it, curled up on a chair in Cullen's room, she was asleep.