#Cullen actually talked with Lorathnil (from the Emerald Graves clan)

[drysia]

Nu'vhenan

Day 6 - Support  for @cullavellanheaven's Cullavellan Week 2017!

It was late by the time Drysia Lavellan made it to her private quarters. She had returned from her latest excursion to the Hinterlands and only had an hour to bathe and eat before Josephine dragged her to meet with visiting nobles all night.

Exhausted is good, she reminded herself, maybe I'll finally get some sleep.

Drysia knew her hope was futile. It was hard to sleep in Skyhold, even with the windows wide open. The brick walls a constant reminder that she wasn't home.

She had made a habit of hiding in the northern tower, a secluded part of Skyhold, to practice the Orlesian lute she'd purchased in Val Royeux. It gave her something to fill the empty hours of the early morning when she couldn't sleep.

Home or not, even in the darkness she could tell that there was something on her bed. Drysia made a small motion with her hand and fire bloomed out of nothing in the fireplace, illuminating the room.

She stared at the boxes that sat in the middle of the furs on her bed -- two boxes identically wrapped in red paper and tied with white ribbon.

This was odd. Her birthday was months ago and she thought she knew all of the human holidays. The Inquisitor didn't know why someone would get her a present.  Finally she spotted an envelope that had fallen behind the packages.

Fingers clumsy with excitement, she tore the letter as she pulled it from its envelope.

Inquisitor-- You neglected to inform us of your birthday in advance, so I was unable to produce a suitable gift in a timely fashion.

Many apologies for the tardiness of the gift. I thought to wait until Satinalia to gift this, but I felt it would be unfair to make you wait.

It is my hope you enjoy it. But I will not be offended if it is not to your tastes. -- C.

Eager to see what sort of present Cullen would give, she quickly grabbed her letter opener and cut the ribbon of the largest package. 

Tearing through the paper a whirlwind of thoughts tore through her head. Why would Cullen care about my birthday? What on Thedas does a man like Cullen get as gifts-- a new set of leather boots? 

The paper gave way to a sheaf of paper bundled in the same white ribbon.

Sheet music. Pages upon pages of sheet music. Drysia leafed through the pages and was surprised at the lack of Chantry hymns. These were from composers from all over Thedas, she recognized names from Antiva, Rivain and Orzammar. Each song written for the particular style of Orlesian lute she had.

Cullen must have noticed the lute standing by her desk during their last meeting. Unless...

Drysia's face went hot. Of course, she thought to herself, him and every other soldier on the battlements must know that I play.

She shook her head, realizing how naive it was to think that he hadn't heard her.

The Orlesian lute was a poor subtitle for the lute she'd left with her clan, the Dalish songs never sounded quite right. It was too tall, had too many strings. The songs of the people sounded alien. Some nights it made her homesickness that much worse.

Her stomach tightened, and curiosity began to get the better of Drysia. She carelessly dropped the music and moved onto the second box. Glad there was no one to witness her haste, she tore into the wrapping and tossed the box's lid onto the ground.

The light spruce of a Dalish style lute gleamed in the firelight. The design of the rosette was intricately carved, bordered by a blue and yellow painted pattern of simplified aravels. She began to examine the instrument more closely; there were some obvious signs of wear that signified that the lute was not brand new, but had at least been taken care of.

Drysia plucked one of the strings, and then another.  A melody took form of a song of she'd heard all her life. For the first time since she'd become Inquisitor she sang along:

"Lath araval ena arla ven tu vir mahvir melana ‘nehn enasal ir sa lethalin."

A smile played across her lips when she was done. Home -- it meant something different to the Dalish. Something felt more than someplace concrete.

Her desire to thank him outweighed her body's desire for sleep. Lute pulled tightly against her chest, Drysia made her way to the northern tower.

She didn't know where Cullen would be at this hour, but she knew how to call him to her.