the commander and the inquisitor

[makerguideme]

Even if he hadn’t seen the movement at the corner of his eye, Cullen knows the Inquisitor was coming. He can see it in the quickly straightening spines of his recruits and the way their eyes go wide. It’s the same sort of awe he’s seen in the soldiers before, especially now that they have escaped Haven and are settling here in Skyhold. These two before him are new, fresh faces who joined up with them the moment they could. They’re still used to seeing her as more than a mere mortal. He still finds himself a bit awed sometimes as well, but Cullen still smothers the urge to smirk at their nervousness.

“That will be all,” he says with a curt nod of his head, dismissing them from his desk and leaving their reports on his table. He watches their forms stiffly turn and make their way to the door the Inquisitor doesn’t occupy.

“Inquisitor.” He likes to think he’s not as curt with her as he is with the others, but he can already imagine the look of resigned disapproval Josephine would give. Thank the Maker they’re in his office and not in the War Room, then. “Something I can help you with?”

Comments

[athim]

It would be the understatement of the century if Isetrea had said she always felt mildly intimidated by the gazes that faced her from her "subordinates", if that is what they were to be called. While she had maintained some sense of leadership in her clan, it wasn't as if she was the Keeper. No, she was hardly even close, and her assignment at the Conclave was likely the biggest responsibility she had been given. Now? Creators, she had nightmares over the heavy title of Inquisitor, and it had barely sunk in. But to those who look at her, she maintained a serious gaze, if only for appearances. And even then, even as they walk past her, she faltered slightly.

Her gaze set upon her Commander as their company left, a crooked smile taking place of the awkward one from such a heavy burden. She had found, at least, comfort in the friendship she had forged with Cullen, and hadn't quite felt wrong in showing the discomfort of a responsibility that had yet to fully sink in.

"Commander," she replied, nodding her head as she took a further step inside.

"I... Came to see if there might have been something I should be updated on. I haven't come at a bad time, have I?"

[makerguideme]

Cullen shook his head quickly, his curiosity giving way as the familiar mantle of the Commander slipped back onto his shoulders once more. Looking up and around, he felt a sheepish rush of blood settle at his neck, and he covered the flush with his hand. He hadn't had much in the way of furniture, a problem that could have easily remedied if he focused some time on it (much like the problems with his roof, or lack thereof).

"Please." He gestured to his own chair and stepped away, moving around his table to give her berth. "The new recruits brought up the reports. I haven't had a chance to review them." A beat passes as he realizes the implication of his words. "Not... that you should be reading them. I'm perfectly happy keeping you abreast of our troops." Isetrea does, after all, have many other things to attend to.

[athim]

That crooked smile remained, even strengthening a touch when Cullen visibly tensed a moment. His posture always seemed to speak louder than his own words, and Isetriel might have found it amusing how he seemed to correct himself as if it were always necessary. As if he had done or said something embarrassing or unwise. The smile became more genuine, gentle as she took a seat per his request.

"Actually, I would think it wise for me to be on level with the goings-on among our troops. It only makes sense, considering they might be the backbone of our cause. Don't you think?"

She gestured for him to join her.

"I don't expect you to carry all the weight, Cullen. Please."

[makerguideme]

The smile he gave her was small, but genuine. He was pleased that she was taking an interest int he soldiers, even if it made him feel a prickle of nervousness. It was ridiculous, of course. His troops were in good shape but still, to be under unexpected scrutiny always made everyone sit up a bit straighter.

But her last remark had him huffing a laugh, his steps leading him back to the table to lean on. "Nonsense, Inquisitor. If there is anything I can do for you, it would be my duty and privilege. It is hardly a burden." Reaching over to the stack of papers left, he began to rifle through the top ones, already shaking his head. "They are quite dry, of course. Lingering skirmishes in the Hinterlands. Supply requests for the Emerald Graves. Your troops are in good spirits, though. We're a proud lot to carry your banner."

[athim]

Isetriel matched his gaze, honored to know that she has gained so much respect since her having been brought through as prisoner. While the whole idea of being the Inquisitor had left a heavy weight on her shoulders, it helped to know that her advisors had so much faith in her. Her gaze softened, complexion if only slightly flushed at the mention of honor. She waved at him dismissively, modest.

"The honor is mine, Commander. Our troops rely on you far more than they rely on me."

She adjusted herself in her seat, leaning back. There was relief in knowing that the reports gave little and held no stressful word. But that isn't completely what she came for.

"If you are so willing to give me whatever I need, perhaps some of your time is available to me? I was thinking we could both use a break."

[makerguideme]

The flush to her cheeks was far too fetching on her, he thinks, and as the notion crosses his mind she shakes his head to scatter them. He knows that his own face would will follow suit and now is not the time for such things. There's never a time for it, but that's besides the point. Now would be especially bad.

"A break?" That had him straightening up in surprise. "Right-- now?"

[athim]

She looked to the door, which had still been wide open, then to the Commander. There was a look of amusement that had colored her features a moment, taking place over the brief flush that had lasted no longer than a second or two. For such a reliable leader, Cullen always had this delightful look to him when he appeared surprised for flustered. It made it far too tempting to play with him, and certainly he could use the change of pace. He worked too hard with little breaks, which had been made very clear since even their first meeting.

"As opposed to when? From what I gather in those reports you just shared with me, it appears now is a better time than ever."

Isetriel raised her brow, leaning forward in her chair with her hand to her cheek and elbow to the armrest.

"Or is there someone else awaiting your time?" A gentle prod. While Isetriel had tried doing her digging before as to whether or not Cullen was available, she couldn't help herself from poking fun at him a little.

[makerguideme]

For a moment he looked confused, then a touch stunned as Isetriel's meaning dawned on him before he shook his head. Maker, the back of his neck felt like it was burning and he covered it with his hand, the cool metal of his armored glove a sharp contrast to steady himself against.

"If there were I am sure she would have been long furious for all the time I spend with my troops." That... that sounded better in his head and Cullen tried to cover it with a gruff clearing of his throat before he gestured to the open door. "Please, Inquisitor. Lead the way." He didn't sound altogether convinced he could actually take a break but he would try. For her sake.

[athim]

Before all of this, well before Isetriel's leaving of her clan to spy at the Conclave, she had certainly thought she were the most awkward in social situations. Granted, "awkward" meant the use of sarcasm at the most inopportune of times, which had been a severe turn-off to both the fairer sex and potential friends. Such a fate became very clear when it had taken until her early twenties to receive her Vallaslin, which was a part of her background she still found embarrassment in. Much had changed after her clan had recognized her maturity and coming into her own, and confidence followed through with it.

Cullen bore a quality in social situations that Isetriel found common ground in. But she found his easily flustered nature far more charming in comparison to her own past shortcomings. He often showed his discomfort or embarrassment by the rubbing of his neck or the brushing of fingers through his hair. In silence, Isetriel always marveled at the action as quite attractive.

"Oh," Isetriel laughed and stood, "What a relief. So I'm not to expect an angered woman if I keep you long. One last challenge in my path."

She then took to the door, awaiting for Cullen to follow.

[makerguideme]

The sound of Isetriel's laugh duly soothes and enflames him, the sound far more lovely than Cullen likes to admit. Coupled with her remark, the warmth refuses to leave his neck. He's no green youth; no unexperienced boy, but Isetriel has a way of disarming him with nary any effort.

"My life doesn't lend itself much into keep women happy, I'm afraid." He doesn't sound particularly put off by the notion, but the words echo through his mind and remind him about how long since he had since kept anyone's company, friend or more. He leads her down the stairs from the ramparts and towards the gardens, the only place anyone could rightfully call suitable for downtime. As sparse as it is.

"Fear not, Inquisitor. There are but a few women I don't wish to anger and right now you are on the very top of that list. I can't decide whether the Spymaster or the Lady Ambassador is next, or if my sister Mia shall forever take that spot." Mia. His family. How long it has been since he has since his family. He shakes his head.

[athim]

The gardens. Isetriel finds herself rather flattered that he takes her away from the battlements. While she enjoys each and every part of Skyhold and what it has to offer, there is a calm serenity to be found where they arrive. She happily follows, listening intently and hardly letting that smile leave her. Truthfully, Isetriel feels most comfortable in Cullen's company. He is a calculated man, serious even when it isn't necessary, but kind and gentle. Knowing that a man who had once been a Templar, who held hatred and fear for Mages has given not only a Mage, but an Elf a chance at closeness? It suggests much for his character.

While she isn't completely aware of how he had been once, she's met enough Templars to know that he is a rarity and something to be treasured.

"On top?" She snickers, "I think I rather like that."

They find at least some privacy at the gazebo, where Isetriel leans against the wall. Her little jab is quickly glossed over when she realizes what it really implies, not that she regrets saying it. Cullen is a very attractive man, and surprisingly the most fun to flirt with.

"Do you ever truly take time for yourself, Commander? You have siblings, I'm sure they would like to see or hear from you. I appreciate all you do, but you are still a human being in need of rest."

[makerguideme]

If only he had been privy to her thoughts. He would have flushed or paled, depending on the moment. For he didn't think himself anything remotely like a rarity. Treasures were not synonymous with his name. But he doesn't, and instead the mild nervousness that plagues his gait is only due to being unused to the woman at his side. And at small talk in general.

His walk falters into a stumble as she remarks enjoying things (people? him?) on top.

He clears his throat and doesn't meet her eyes. His hand rakes through his hair but he doesn't frown. He simply can't meet her gaze.

At leas the subject returns to more neutral ground and he sighs as he leads her to the bench. The gardens are empty and quiet, for once, and he waits for her to take a seat before sitting beside her. "I rest as much as I absolutely need. It's well enough." He never was much a deep sleeper, and the lack of lyrium ensures that more and more each day. "My sisters... Well, I'll write to them soon enough. What about you? Any family that we should be sending for?"