- Joined
- Jul 24, 2013
- Location
- canadialand.
Countless weeks had passed since the Breach had ripped into the sky, and a countless number of people had given their lives for the only force that appeared able to stand against the power that had erupted it. Even so, as Cullen Rutherford sent out letters to the families of those they had lost in the Inquisition's last struggled attempt to even the playing field between them and Corypheus, he felt a guilty peg of relief knowing that their leader was safe and sound, that their - his - Lady Lavellan didn't share the same fate.
"Most of our numbers are still on their way back from the Arbor Wilds, Commander," an Inquisition scout informed him as she entered his quarters, saluting briefly before he'd had a chance to fully see it. With a small nod, he waved her off, barely lifting his eyes from the parchment of papers on his desk in front of him in order to give her a once over - just long enough to make sure it wasn't the soul he'd been hoping to barge into his tower. As much as he wished he could pull himself from his desk in search of a distraction, the Commander knew better; these souls deserved to have their families told of their bravery. It was, after all, the only thing Cullen really had left to offer them for their efforts. Well, that and a proper burial, but burying your soldiers without the comfort of their loved ones being able to say their goodbyes? No. He would remain to his duties, for as long as his eyes and straining headache would allow.
What could've been minutes or hours passed when Cullen's hand finally released the quiver he'd been holding so tightly. Dully, his golden eyes trailed over the words he'd written what felt like a thousand times since he'd been recruited for the Inquisition's commanding role. Most of the men and women they had lost were mages, too, adding to the sullen mood that was weight heavily on the male's shoulders. He'd cast so many mages out because of a few bad seeds, and here they were, laying their lives on the line for their cause. "Maker's breath.." he sighed, closing his eyes as he eased his head into his hands, fingers massaging against his temples as he attempted to will his headache away. To be honest, he wasn't even sure what he was experiencing the headache from anymore; his lack of lyrium usage, or the fact that all of this was starting to chip away at his armor, piece by piece. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure how much more he could withstand; so much he might willingly take a trip to the tavern if the next couple of moments didn't prove to be any better.
"Most of our numbers are still on their way back from the Arbor Wilds, Commander," an Inquisition scout informed him as she entered his quarters, saluting briefly before he'd had a chance to fully see it. With a small nod, he waved her off, barely lifting his eyes from the parchment of papers on his desk in front of him in order to give her a once over - just long enough to make sure it wasn't the soul he'd been hoping to barge into his tower. As much as he wished he could pull himself from his desk in search of a distraction, the Commander knew better; these souls deserved to have their families told of their bravery. It was, after all, the only thing Cullen really had left to offer them for their efforts. Well, that and a proper burial, but burying your soldiers without the comfort of their loved ones being able to say their goodbyes? No. He would remain to his duties, for as long as his eyes and straining headache would allow.
What could've been minutes or hours passed when Cullen's hand finally released the quiver he'd been holding so tightly. Dully, his golden eyes trailed over the words he'd written what felt like a thousand times since he'd been recruited for the Inquisition's commanding role. Most of the men and women they had lost were mages, too, adding to the sullen mood that was weight heavily on the male's shoulders. He'd cast so many mages out because of a few bad seeds, and here they were, laying their lives on the line for their cause. "Maker's breath.." he sighed, closing his eyes as he eased his head into his hands, fingers massaging against his temples as he attempted to will his headache away. To be honest, he wasn't even sure what he was experiencing the headache from anymore; his lack of lyrium usage, or the fact that all of this was starting to chip away at his armor, piece by piece. Whatever it was, he wasn't sure how much more he could withstand; so much he might willingly take a trip to the tavern if the next couple of moments didn't prove to be any better.