Moments

Moment of Perfection

Breaking free of my lips, he placed his forehead against mine and said, "Don't think I've forgiven you for stopping here before coming to see me."

"You were in a meeting. A big one with Duke de Something or Other," I waved my hands to mimic the mask, "What was I supposed to do, kick open the door, throw a dragon carcass on the table, and jump on top of you?"

He blinked slowly, then lifted a shoulder, "That is a tempting image."

Laughter jumbled in my throat, still scratchy from the dragon's fire. "Josie'd have my head on a platter, but, for you...I'll try. Next dragon hunt."

Cullen's soft smile fell. "You suspect there will be another?"

"Emprise, Crestwood, the Hissing Wastes, seems like the dragons are thicker than nugs in southern Thedas." I pulled away from his warm arms and sat upon the bed. Exhaustion rattled my bones as I tipped my head into my hands. "In truth, dragon hunting isn't something I fully feel comfortable with."

"Oh?"

"Cassandra looks upon it as if she's fulfilling some ancient legacy. Solas grows quiet, insular..." from his eyebrow raise, I added, "more insular. As if we're destroying a piece of history. And Bull...It's probably best if you don't know about Bull and dragons."

He finally collapsed beside me and picked up my hands in his. "What of you?"

Sighing, I glanced towards the ceiling. The setting sun cast colors through the windows. From the prism of the cloudy skies, they danced upon the ceiling. "Dragons are dangerous and kill people. I'm in the profession of stopping people from being killed. Sometimes it's that simple."

"Ha," Cullen laughed once then burrowed his face into my shoulder. I'm certain I stank of bog, sweat, and that brimstone dragon odor, but he didn't pull away, only lay there. I ruffled through his hair, twisting it around my fingers.

"Commander, Sir."

We both snapped up. Cullen jumped off the bed and glared at the dwarven scout who snuck into the room undetected.

"What is it?"

"Comte de Ghislain is waiting for you," she said, holding out a report and trying to bury a blush across her cheeks.

"That blowhard's been waffling with us for weeks now!" Cullen cursed, yanking the report away from the scout.

"He says he's willing to sit down and discuss options, now."

"I'd like to discuss how far my boot can get up his ass," Cullen continued, batting at the report.

The dwarven scout's eyes only crossed to me a few times, but I could read the prayer on her lips, "Thank the ancestors they weren't naked." Otherwise, she focused fully on her raging commander.

"I will be going now," she said inching away. Getting halfway down the first staircase she called out a "Sir!" then ran for it.

Cullen sighed, still poring over the vellum.

"Well, that should keep the troops entertained for awhile," I said, rising off the bed.

"This damn Comte's been flooding us with missives swearing support then yanking it at the last moment," Cullen shouted.

"Uh huh," I muttered, my fingers working the buttons across my vest. It hit the floor with a thud that didn't distract the commander too absorbed in his problems.

"And every time I insist we ignore him, Leliana returns with another report insisting he's the connection we need."

"Right," I continued. "Where's that damn...ah here it is," I unknotted the chains binding the last of the leather to my skin and shook it off.