Penelope Featherington Rutherford (featherington) wrote in the100, @ 2015-08-03 12:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, cullen rutherford, penelope featherington |
Who: Penelope Featherington & Cullen Rutherford
When: Saturday night, after Penelope and Katniss's conversation
Where: Penelope's bed
What: Discussion about the past, the present, and thoughts about the future.
Rating: There is a sort of fade to black, followed by some pillow talk.
Even without having to ask him, Penelope had been convinced that Cullen wasn’t beginning to have doubts about them. Instead, she learned that her worries had taken the wrong direction, which left her feeling a little ashamed and a little relieved. She was, however, still concerned for him. She knew some things about his life in Thedas, but not enough to say that she knew him completely. She only knew that he was a good man, a caring one, with a dry sense of humor and a fierce moral code. She knew that he made her feel special, and beautiful, and, at times, slightly mad with desire. Penelope knew that his smile brightened her day and that in his presence she was safe and secure. Katniss agreed to spend time with Peeta, allowing Penelope and Cullen the privacy they needed for what was bound to be a very serious discussion, which made Penelope like her roommate even more. She would miss her terribly when she went to live with Peeta. Katniss left, and then Cullen arrived. He was greeted with a smile, a squeeze of his hand, and a kiss before she led him into the side of the apartment she shared with Katniss. Furniture was limited: a bed for each side of the divide, and a chair as well. Penelope had been busy since she arrived, however, and her bed more resembled a daybed with several handmade pillows and a blanket made of fabric scraps than a regular bed. Penelope studied him, reaching up to brush aside a stray lock of hair from his forehead. His eyes had lost some of the haunted look that he’d sported the evening before, which calmed her. “You look like today hasn’t been as terrible.” “It hasn’t,” Cullen admitted, and gave her a slight half smile. “The Inquisitor needed something to blow up, and it happened that I had a perfect target.” He leaned down to take another kiss as he sat, wondering how he ought to start this conversation. He cared deeply for Penelope, and he knew that he wanted to remain with her for a long time to come. That meant that he had to be willing to open up to her about himself, though, and about his past. Letting his guard down wasn’t easy for Cullen. He didn’t know how to begin, and could only hope that maybe Penelope was a little better at this than he was. Penelope sat with him, taking his hand. She said that she would hold him through this, and if that meant that she only held his hand, so be it. Her shoes were already off of her feet, so she curled up, leaning against the pillows. “Come here. Sit with me. I feel as though I haven’t seen you all day, and I missed you.” But simply sitting with her didn’t mean he would speak of what troubled him. He seemed reluctant to go on, even though he’d said he wanted to tell her. She prompted softly, “What did the Inquisitor blow up?” “My old lyrium kit,” he said, and suddenly it was all much easier to say. He had a start now, and starting was always the hardest part. It was still challenging, still kept his voice low and his hand wrapped in hers, but he could do it. “That was what I found in the pod yesterday,” Cullen hesitantly explained. “Templars, you see...they take a draught of lyrium every day. It enhances their powers...and it’s also extremely addictive, mentally and physically. That little box holds everything a person needs to mix up a the daily dosage of it, and I used it every morning from the time I was 18 until I left the order to join the Inquisition. I stopped then, because I didn’t want anyone holding a leash on me any longer. Quitting it was...a difficult process. And then the thing showed up here, and the memories that came with it were...not good ones.” Penelope listened, gripping his hand as he gripped hers, not once letting loose. “What part of this is supposed to make me like you less?” She squeezed his hand. “So far I have only heard a man tell me that he has lifted himself out of a terrible addiction. I can only admire him for it.” “That’s because I haven’t told you much of my time with the Templars,” he said quietly. “And this is where the story grows long, because it requires a great deal of explanation of my world and my life to make sense. Forgive me, please, if it grows dull or confusing.” Cullen took a deep breath, slowly in and out. That was old Templar training in and of itself, mastering his breathing to master himself. Like it or not, the order would always be part of him. “In Thedas, magic is drawn from the Fade. Mages are people with a particularly close connection to the Fade, the ones who can draw from its power--very great power, in some cases. The Fade is also the realm of spirits and demons, and demons stalk mages that they might possess them, use their power and their bodies to enter the mortal world. A possessed mage, an abomination, is extremely powerful, and can cut a swath of horrifying destruction. Blood mages, too, the ones who summon demons to do their will or kill to provide more power for greater magic, are terrors upon ordinary men. I tell you all this because I want you to understand that there are very good reasons for the existence of the Templars, and that most join the order because they are men and women of faith who want to care for and protect others.” She needed to know that, because even at his lowest points, Cullen knew he wasn’t evil. He had been a fool, he had made terrible mistakes, but he had never deliberately set out to hurt anyone. His sins were mostly those of inaction. “That was why I joined, and began training when I was a lad of 13,” Cullen went on. “I wanted to protect people. I could imagine no greater calling, then. I didn’t know as a child what having so much power over the mages in a Circle could do to some people, or what lengths some would go to in order to scratch out more power for themselves, or how some would be driven mad by their fear of magic, that the fear could turn to hatred. I...I didn’t know how fear would turn me into someone I barely recognized.” He paused, and his free hand went to the back of his neck. “My first posting was at Kinloch Hold, the home of one of Ferelden’s Circles of Magi. I had been serving there for a year when a powerful blood mage decided to solve a political squabble by summoning demons, became an abomination, and tore the whole place to shreds. He brought some other mages along with him, while others tried to fight him, and I watched all my friends slaughtered or possessed. I nearly died myself. I was tortured; they made me see things, tried to break my mind, left me without food or water for almost three full days. I...was not the same man after that. I was sent to the Greenfell Chantry to heal, but I should have stayed much longer than I did. When I went to join the Templars at the Kirkwall Circle I was still angry, still afraid, and it took years there before I began to understand that we cannot let fear allow us to dehumanize people, regardless of their powers. I made excuses for my superiors, and I didn’t do nearly enough to prevent the abuses of power that took place there, and it wasn’t until the very end, when the city lay in ruins and hundreds had died in the conflict, that I finally found the courage to stand against the easy comfort of rules and regulations and the chain of command. And...and it was after that that I abandoned my vows and left the Templars.” He had managed to stay calm through all that, somehow. Cullen wasn’t really sure how he’d kept that quiet, even tone without breaking. Perhaps he was indeed stronger than he had once thought. “So you can see now why I want nothing to do with that life any longer,” he concluded. “But...you know now, too, that I have not always been the man I am. I have thought since this began that you deserve a better one, without so much blood on his hands. But if you choose to continue on this path with me after knowing all that, then I swear to you, Penelope, I will do my very best to make sure you do not regret it.” Penelope was quiet for a very long while, merely sitting and holding Cullen's hand while she processed his devastating, horrible tale. He had, indeed, seen and done terrible things -- he hadn't done them with ill, malicious intent, however. Out of the injuries done to him at Kinloch Hold, the most devastating was the hurt done to his soul, and she ached for him. Cullen had made mistakes; he was only human. But he also had atoned for those mistakes, making himself into a better person for it, ever mindful of his actions. "I... deserve someone who strives everyday to not be the man he was made to be at age eighteen," Penelope began slowly. "I admire the man you've become, forged by your experiences but not allowing them to define you. Cullen, you could be bitter and angry and determined to find revenge, but instead I find you to be honorable, and noble." She squeezed his hand again. "I don't know who told you that you don't deserve to have a good life, with people you care about, because it seems you have been told that. But you do. I want to be a part of that life." "Cassandra used to say that I am my own harshest critic and taskmaster," Cullen admitted. "She's likely right. The only person who has told me any of that is myself. And...truly, I know I am not a monster, and if you choose to give me your regard I am not fool enough to deny myself that. I just...I could not let you do so blind." "I'm sure that if I were to meet this Cassandra, she and I would agree on many points, where you are concerned," Penelope say wryly. She touched his cheek, and kissed him, briefly. "Thank you for telling me. You must know that I have already given it to you, though. I couldn't help myself." She shifted herself back further onto the bed. "Come, I told you I would hold you, and I meant it. I... think I need to. I am so sorry that you have suffered so." Cullen had never really allowed himself any comfort, not from anything but work. He had taken staying busy and trying to do good as the only comfort he could be allowed. Now, though, he let himself lean back against Penelope's shoulder and draped his arm over her waist. It was surprisingly comfortable for someone who had been placing himself in the position of protector since he was a child. "Many others have suffered far more for all that than I have," he quietly replied. "But I will stay just like this for as long as you will allow it." She wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin against his head. "My heart hurts for them, too, but I cannot ease their suffering. You, though, are here, and I hope that you will allow me that privilege." Penelope kissed his head. "You may stay here with me like this for as long as you need. I have nowhere else I need to be, and no one else I would rather spend time." “I may fall asleep using you as a pillow, this time, instead of the other way ‘round,” Cullen warned her. He hadn’t slept well the night before, with far too much on his mind. It would be easy to simply drift off like this, let the day and night’s exhaustion take him, and slide into the warmth and softness Penelope offered. There had been very few soft things in his life. He wasn’t always sure what to do with having Penelope now, having so little experience of love. This time, though, he didn’t struggle with it, nor did he feel guilty for accepting the affection she offered. It felt right, and he could sleep easily with that. Penelope laughed, squeezing him affectionately. “Please do. I don’t think we’ll scandalize Katniss should she return early to find us asleep here.” It was easy to be with Cullen like this. Penelope found herself taking to the role of comforter, allowing Cullen to show vulnerability while she proved herself to be something of a rock. She combed her fingers through his hair, marveling at its softness. “Your hair is soft. … Katniss wants to be with Peeta. Live with him, I mean. I offered to find a new room, instead, so that they may stay here with Annie and Finnick.” Cullen smiled faintly at the touch of her hand, letting his eyes close. He had always liked the feeling of fingers running through his hair; it was comforting even as it sent shivers down his back, and he could easily lie there and let her do that all evening. “Touch as much as you wish,” he said. “I like it.” But that wasn’t really the important thing in what she said. With his consent given for Penelope to continue petting him like a cat, Cullen’s mind drifted to her issue of rooms. “That’s very kind of you,” he said. “Have you thought of where to go? I’ve no idea who currently has an empty bed.” She did so, finding the repetitive motion nearly as soothing as Cullen did. “I’ve given it some thought. Katniss suggested I speak to Peeta’s roommate, and simply switch rooms with him. He lives with another woman from their world, Johanna. I don’t know if she would even want to live with someone she hardly knows.” In truth, for all that Penelope was willing to move, to allow Peeta to live with Katniss, Annie, Finnick, and little Tristan, the idea made her anxious. She and Katniss had only just seemed to become friends, and Penelope found she was attached to Finnick, Annie, and Tristan especially. New people were an unknown quantity, and although she had found herself becoming more confident, it only went so far. “She has little choice in it, doesn’t she? If she chooses not to have you, she’d just be assigned someone as more people arrive,” Cullen pointed out. “Peeta will be leaving her regardless, yes? You, at least, are a known quantity. If she waits and rolls the dice, there’s no telling who she might end up with.” Cullen hadn’t been in a position to choose whom he lived with for the vast majority of his life. It was only in the last year or two with the Inquisition that he’d had his own quarters. When he had first come here he’d been placed with Marcel, the vampire, and now he had Amadeus, the boy with the computer brain. There had been only a few weeks in between in which he’d had the space to himself. At least this was better than a barracks, where you might have one room with dozens of beds. Penelope laughed again. “This is why you are a good commander, I have no doubt. You and Katniss both are sensible. I like sensible.” She ran her thumb over his forehead, her hand over his head and down to rest upon the back of his neck. She wasn’t entirely used to sharing a living space, although once she became friends with Katniss, it became much easier and much nicer. She enjoyed it, and enjoyed very much their late night chats. “Yes, either way, Peeta will be living somewhere else, with someone else. She will need a roommate. I’ll speak to her.” “If she’s not interested, you should see if one of the vampires has space,” Cullen advised with a slight smile, joking but indeed sensible to the core. “They’re up and out all night, sleep while you work during the day, and half the time you’ll forget entirely that you share quarters at all. Marcel was by far the easiest roommate I’ve ever had, and after a lifetime as a knight I have plenty of basis for comparison.” “Shush,” Penelope said, once again laughing, this time more of a giggle. “I would like to know my roommate, and be friends, and you’re telling me how to find one that won’t know I’m there.” A thought occurred to her, but she did not give it voice, finding herself blushing at the thought. No, Cullen would not suggest a roommate who would be out at all hours of the night just so he might have more time with her at the end of their evenings. She felt he would simply ask directly. Or not ask, and simply do. “Sorry, I forget not everyone is as terrible at making friends as I am,” Cullen said, turning to look up at her with a tilted smile. “I’m also terrible at sleeping, which I suspect makes me a pain in the arse for anyone else to live with. The invisible roommate is my ideal, but I suppose that would not be yours.” He shifted backward, then to the side, seeking a comfortable position, until finally he ended up lying on his back with his head in Penelope’s lap, linking his hand with hers where it lay on his chest. “Put a call out on the network, perhaps? If you’re looking for a friend to share space with, you might put a few more lines out and see if someone besides Johanna bites. Someone else might be more to your liking than she is.” “I’m not wonderful at it, either,” Penelope admitted. “Making friends, I mean. It’s easier here, but that’s because people here don’t have the same expectations of me that the people I knew before did.” She squeezed his hand. “Besides, you made friends with me. And then some.” She liked this, the quietude of having a conversation with Cullen in privacy, being able to touch him with casual affection as much as she wanted. “I’ll do that, too. Talk to her, and see if someone out there is looking for a roommate. Thank you. For listening, and your suggestions.” “I am always glad to listen to you,” Cullen said, briefly raising her hand to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. She had listened to much more from him, especially tonight. Penelope’s worries were actually comforting, in a way; he had always found other people’s problems easier to solve than his own, and he liked being helpful. “Friends have been easier here for me, as well,” he admitted. “For much the same reason. I remain as awkward with people as I have always been, but it is indeed easier without the weight of one’s past bearing down.” She brushed her thumb over his. “And I you. Always,” she promised. She smiled. “I think I like myself here. I don’t miss always listening for gossip, or taking notice of every little thing, and what people are wearing. I feel like even my small contributions here matter, and that is… unusual, but I like it.” “You appear to have grown more confident in yourself over the time that I have known you,” Cullen observed. It occurred to him then that he had been in this place for a full three months--a quarter of a year. Long enough to get to know people, make friends, develop genuine affection and caring for people who had once been strangers. It was strange to think of becoming so comfortable in a completely foreign place. Should he be returned to Thedas, there were now people he would miss--the lady holding his hand, most of all. “I think I have. I know what happens to me, and just a few months months ago I would have considered it my life’s dream. But now… I don’t want to go home. There’s real purpose here.” Penelope trailed off, soothing herself by brushing his hair back again. “I would miss you.” It fairly took her breath away, realizing that although she missed her family and the friends she’d made in 1824, her life felt more real here. The friendships she’d forged were strong, based not only on proximity, but also on genuine affection and shared interests. London felt like a different life, for someone else, distant, the colors washed out and muted. “I would miss you as well,” Cullen admitted. “My purpose in my own world is arguably greater than any I have here...but I would miss you terribly. Some others, as well, but none so much as you.” He wished then that he could bring Penelope home with him. That would be the best of all, for him--to go home, to fulfill his duty, and to be able to have Penelope with him as well. Cullen realized as he thought it that he was beginning to think of his relationship with Penelope in further-reaching terms, as something that could truly last. That didn’t seem to be moving unusually quickly to him; “dating” was not really a concept that existed in his medieval-type world. People courted, or they were lovers, but there wasn’t much floating in between the two. In his own world, Cullen would likely soon be considering marriage. What made it odd to consider such things here was how unstable the world was, with the way anyone could suddenly disappear at any moment. The idea of permanence in an entirely different plane of existence was madness. Nonetheless, Cullen was thinking about it just the same. “The idea of you leaving, returning to your home… It frightens me. I don’t know what you would return to, and the possibility that it would be death simply because…” Penelope stopped, her voice catching. She had to look away, blinking rapidly. In her world, marriages were made on much less choice than compatibility, and with far lesser acquaintance. Often, it was a deal made between the potential groom and his bride’s father. They had time to know one another better, but it wasn’t unusual for a match to be made in the middle of the Season, with the wedding to follow at the end -- a matter of but a few months. The idea of long-term courting was unusual, although Penelope’s nature wouldn’t allow her to imagine anything so long-term as marriage. “I don’t want you to leave me.” “I don’t think I’m going anywhere any time soon,” Cullen said, and picked himself up from her lap to sit up and put his arm around her shoulders. “And I know from others further along our timeline that I survive the war against Corypheus. I don’t know what else the future may hold for me, but I will at least not return directly to death.” He realized then that he had no idea what Penelope would be returning to in her own world. He knew she was a lady, an author, and that her world was generally not a dangerous one. He knew as well, though, that when she had found the book that detailed her life, she had found it horrifying and embarrassing. At the time, he hadn’t known her well enough to inquire further on the matter. Now, however, he wondered if perhaps he should ask. Penelope leaned into him, pressing her face against the spot where his shoulder, neck, and collarbone meet. “But we don’t know. That poor man, Neville, lost his fiancée just before their wedding.” Which, truly, made it ridiculous. As in this life, as in death. One never knew when one would be taken away, either by whatever powers brought them to this world, or by death. She was becoming worked up over nothing more than the daily facts of life. “I can take comfort in that you don’t immediately die, I suppose. I just… I would miss you, and I would want you here with me, and if you were to come back, you wouldn’t know me, or remember anything that has passed between us. Just as I wouldn’t remember you if I were to leave and come back.” “Life in any world is uncertain,” Cullen said, his other arm settling around her as she curled into him. “Worrying over when or how it may end uses up time and energy that have better applications. I would miss you terribly if you were lost, but I would prefer to enjoy whatever time we have together than lose a single moment to fear.” Too many of Cullen’s mistakes had occurred because he was afraid. Afraid of magic, afraid of breaking the rules...fear had controlled him too often. He had promised himself after Kirkwall that he wouldn’t let that happen again, and so far, he had been successful. He didn’t want to make any of those mistakes of fear with Penelope. “I know. It just feels closer here,” she said softly. “Like we’re tied down with only the thinnest of cobwebs.” She wrapped her arms around him, sighing. He was right. Living in fear of what might happen wouldn’t allow either of them to enjoy the gift of knowing each other that they were given. Life was too precious, the time they had was too precious to waste on what-ifs, and Penelope had spent enough too many years waiting for her life to begin. She straightened enough to be able to look Cullen in the eyes. “No more fear. I want my memories of you to never be clouded by fear of what may or may not happen.” Cullen brought his hand gently to her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “Then let us both stop worrying and enjoy what happiness Andraste grants us,” he said. They’d had enough of letting anxiety run their lives, both of them. There was too much to enjoy to continue that way. A half smile turned his expression a touch playful, and he bumped her nose lightly with his. “Because, my dear lady, I am very happy to be here with you.” Penelope smiled, turning her face into his hand. With a single, light touch, Cullen was able to start her heart to pounding. “I think, sir, that you are perhaps talking too much at the moment. I would see you put your other, not inconsiderable, talents to use.” At some point in the weeks since they transitioned from friends to more, she had lost most of her shyness. She’d found that she enjoyed the physical aspects of a romantic relationship, and had been content to allow them to develop at a considerably slow speed. Had been, because their relationship had turned an invisible corner, whether she realized it or not. She leaned in to kiss him, and as she lost herself in it, she drew him down with her. Cullen followed gladly, feeling the same unspoken shift that Penelope did. In the course of a conversation, they had grown closer in an indefinable way, reached an understanding that hadn’t been present before. He had, until now, been particularly cognizant of the fact that Penelope was inexperienced, and that their relationship was relatively new. Tonight, after all this, moving along felt perfectly natural. He was still ready to retreat in an instant if Penelope preferred to back off, but somehow it didn’t feel like that was the way they were going. Penelope welcomed him joyfully, and afterwards was content to lay in his arms, dazed. She was mildly astonished with herself, but that was layered under so many other emotions that she barely knew it was there. She sighed, stretched a little, and shifted, propping her head up with her hand, using a pillow as a base. “Will you stay the night?” “I would have asked, had you not offered,” Cullen said, settling himself in a little more comfortably around her. He had forgotten the simple pleasure of lying in a lover’s arms, and he didn’t think he’d ever found this kind of peace in it before. There was something very different and utterly perfect about being skin to skin with Penelope, pulling a blanket up around them as the sweat cooled, finding the ideal place for his arm to rest around her. He placed a kiss at her shoulder and settled back into the pillow. “I’ll warn you, I don’t always sleep well. If I start talking, just give me a good hard shove. That usually does the trick.” “Depending on what time you begin talking, my shove may well boot you out of bed,” Penelope said with a grin, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She leaned in to kiss him, still smiling and speaking against him. “I am a terror in the mornings, and impossible to speak to for at least an hour after I wake up.” She moved away, placing her hand on his chest. She wondered if she would ever become used to this closeness, the intimacy between them, and hoped she wouldn’t. She’d felt cherished, even loved, and it continued now, laying idly with Cullen. She’d discovered an entirely new dimension to herself, which she expected to explore fully, but first there was the novelty of a strong male body around her, the discovery that she was not built merely to be the housing for an heir and spare. There was partnership here, an understanding between equals. Cullen had never imagined that he would have anything other than a partnership between equals, if he were to have any love in his life at all. He’d been surrounded by women with spines of steel his entire life, and he wasn’t a son of the nobility who would have to consider lands and titles in his choice of a mate. Of course he would want something like this, a relationship of true affection and mutual desire. He had just thought for a very long time that his life and the damage his spirit had sustained would never allow it. Being proved wrong on that score was blissful. “I’ll spare you my good cheer at dawn, then,” Cullen chuckled, threading his fingers into her hair. “Or I can wake you with kisses and see if that improves your mood.” “Or… you could do both. Wake me with kisses and a dour face,” she teased, allowing her fingers to dance around his chest, up to his shoulder and back down. “And then if my mood improves, you may continue on with your good cheer. And kisses.” She only worried that she would grow so used to waking to those kisses that waking up without them would put her in worse moods than usual in the mornings, but that would be a worry easily fixed. Some day, when the time was right. Cullen laughed softly and took another sleepy kiss. “We’ll just have to see what the dawn brings,” he said. “I have to be at my post at seven. If you prefer, I can try to slip out without waking you.” He had every intention of spending as many mornings as he could waking her up with kisses, and as many nights falling asleep with her head on his shoulder. Roommates did complicate things a smidge, but they could work around that quietly and considerately until such a time as it made sense to simply take quarters together. He certainly couldn’t see them simply...ending. They were far too good together for that. |