#and his brows are thinner. his mouth is slightly upturned at the corners

[sarellathesphinx]

Gaze upon my boy. They shoujofied him

[forever-dreaming-cullen]

[FIC] Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme, Chapter Four

Screenshot credit: the amazing @cantkeepmyeyesoff

I am back with another chapter of my fic. I hope you enjoy it, and again thank you so much to everyone who has liked and reblogged this fic so far. You guys are awesome!

Read it on AO3

Between the Salt Water and the Sea Strand    

“May I see you for a moment?”

Eala’s heart sped up when she heard that familiar clipped Fereldan accent. A smile blossoming on her face, she looked up to see him standing just inside the door to the main treatment room. He must have just come from training his men because he wore just a light shirt, leather breeches, and of course, his sword belt. The sight of him made her throat tighten, and her head swim.

“Of course, Commander.” She swallowed, and pressing down her hair, glided to him. “Did you want to sit,” she said, indicating the chairs arranged in one corner near a large bookcase filled with books.

He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck. “Um, no, that’s all right. Will you walk with me?”

She nodded and took the arm he offered her. Outside, spring was in full bloom; the vines that wrapped around the old stones of the keep were sending out new feelers, and the scent of jasmine flooded the air. The ever-present sound of workmen making repairs echoed through the courtyard as they crossed it together toward the stairs leading to the battlements.  Neither of them spoke as they had climbed the stairs to the parapet wall.

The continued walking a few feet until the Commander ducked around the corner of one of the towers, pulling her with him into a secluded corner. She squeaked as he lifted her onto the low wall and tucked himself between her legs. His arms went around her, and he crushed her to him in a tight hug. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed, his face buried in the join of her neck and shoulder.

“I-I’ve missed you, too,” she said, unsure for a moment what she should do with her arms. They hovered around him for a few seconds before settling on his shoulders. “C-can you tell me what all this is about?” Her voice was slightly tremulous, her heart was beating so fast in her chest that she thought she might pass out.

He hummed softly and said nothing for a few moments before drawing away to regard her with warm golden eyes. “You have no idea how hard it has been for me without your treatments these last months, but,”  he sighed wearily, “Maker, you know what it has been like…since Haven…I have barely had a moment to think, let alone take time for anything personal.”

She thought of the personal time he took with the Herald — no, she was the Inquisitor now, while they were holed up in the mountain pass over the winter, but she decided against mentioning it. Instead, she said “It was hairy for a while there. I tried to tend to you, but as I recall, you told me that others needed my help more than you did.”

He laughed. “So I did. Well, I think everything is under control now that we have settled at Skyhold. Will you avail me of your healing services once again, Mistress Eala?” He lifted one eyebrow and smirked.

She cocked her head and eyed him critically. His face was thinner, his cheeks gaunter than they had been in Haven, and the purple shadows under his eyes were darker. Without thinking about it, she brought a hand up to touch the area under his left eye.

“I can see that I have my work cut out for me, then,” she said, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips.

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “Indeed you do. Listen, can we start tonight? Come to my office at 19 bells, and we can have supper together. I-I have something I must tell you.”

“That sounds ominous, but of course, I’ll come.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled a long sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

 Eala knocked firmly on the Commander’s door at precisely 19 bells. She shifted from foot to foot and twirled a lock of her her hair as she waited for him to open the door. Soon enough she heard footsteps on the stone floor and then, the door was swinging open, and he stood in the doorway clad in — was he wearing a silk robe? Her mouth went dry as she took in his bare muscular legs below the hem of the robe and the delicious slice of his chest revealed by the deep V above where it was loosely belted at his waist.

“Uh, C-Commander? Have I come too early? I-I can come back later!” she babbled, her heart thrumming in her chest,  but as she started to turn away, his hand shot out and caught her forearm.

“No — it’s fine. Please come in.” He opened the door wider and stepped aside so that she could enter. As she moved past him into the candlelit office, he rubbed the back of his neck and hesitated before adding. “I — ah — I thought we could eat upstairs. I hope that’s all right.”

Well. “I, um, I suppose it’s all right. We can get to your treatment right away afterward.” She tried to keep her voice crisp and professional, but it still sounded breathless and raspy to her ears.

He smiled and put an arm around her shoulders to guide her to the ladder that disappeared into the loft above. “You’ll have to forgive the roughness of my quarters. I’ve only just moved in about a week ago.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” she dismissed airily, but when she saw what awaited her upstairs, she gasped. She thankfully retained the presence of mind to step aside so that the Commander could climb up after her, but she didn’t move from her spot at the top of the ladder. She regarded the small table, two chairs, and what looked to be a small feast laid out on it with eyes gone huge with shock. The silly man had gone out of his way to — she had no idea what.

When he saw her shocked expression, he gave an exasperated sigh. “Oh, for the love of — it is just a supper between friends,” he said. “Nothing more. Now, come, sit, and let’s eat. ” He walked to the table and held out a seat for her.

The firmness in his tone told her he would not take no for an answer, so she swallowed, attempting to moisten her throat and slipped into the chair. As she did, she felt the whisper of his lips brushing against the top of her head, and a shiver tingled up her spine. She closed her eyes and willed her heart to slow down. He said it himself: it was a supper between friends, nothing more. Friends. She was his friend.

Supper was a delicious repast of roasted pheasant, new potatoes, and stuffing made of breadcrumbs and chestnuts. While they ate, they spoke of innocuous topics: how the clinic was coming, how his latest recruits were doing. It was quite pleasant, with the stars visible through the hole in his roof — yes, he had a hole in it, and when she asked him about it, he just shrugged and told her that there were more pressing repairs to be done.

“And I rather like it,” he said, leaning back in his chair, a smirk lifting one corner of his lips. Then his brows furrowed as he leaned forward again. “You’re not cold, are you? Do you need a coat?”

She waved him off. “I’m fine, Commander. It’s just a curious thing that the Inquisition’s general sleeps with a hole above his bed. What will you do when it rains? Or snows?”

He laughed, a glorious sound that rumbled up from his chest and warmed her from head to toe. Maker, if only she could hear him laugh like that more often. “Then I suppose I shall have to move my bed, won’t I?” His eyes twinkled with mirth, an infectious smile creasing his face.

“I suppose you shall, “ she rejoined, a smile of her own crossing her lips.

He rested his head on one upturned palm, elbow on the table. “I love your smile. You should do it more often,” he said, and just like that, the flutters were back in her stomach.

She reached blindly for something, anything, to turn the conversation away from the current topic and mood. “I —uh — there’s something that you wanted to discuss?”

That did it. The smile fell from his lips, and she immediately mourned its loss. “I —yes. There is something I need to tell you.” He got up and crossed to his bedside table. He opened the drawer, pulled something out and returned to the table with it. Resuming his seat, he set it down in front of her. “Do you know what that is?”

She eyed the small, rectangular box carefully. Reaching out a hand, she opened it and inside, she saw a vial filled with an unmistakable bright blue liquid as well as a pouch and some other implements she could not name. “I-is that lyrium?”

“Yes.  You know that I used to be a Templar, right?” She nodded, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “When a Templar takes his vows, he is given his first philter of lyrium. It grants us our powers, but it enslaves us as well. We are each given a lyrium kit  — this one is mine.”

“Lyrium? But if you’re not a mage! It would be really addictive! “

He gave a short bark of laughter. “Indeed. It is quite addictive, and the Chantry controls the lyrium trade, so it keeps its Templars in line. “ He looked at her with serious golden eyes. “When I left the Order, I decided to leave it all behind — including lyrium. I no longer take it. “

“But Commander, trying to stop —it could kill you. “

“it hasn’t yet. It’s been months now. “

She ran her gaze over him and suddenly, it all made sense. “So your illness is due to withdrawal? “

“Yes. It seems to be a chronic thing, at least with me. The number of Templars who have successfully quit is rare enough that there is no way to know if my symptoms and progression are typical. “

She remained silent for a moment while she considered his words. Maker, lyrium. She didn’t know a lot of about it, but she knew it was extremely bad for non-mages. Finally, she nodded her head and said “I respect what you are trying to do. I will treat you as long as you have need of it.”

He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the back of his chair, and let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Eala. Your understanding means more than you know.”

 A few days later, Eala was in the library researching the effects of lyrium. What little information there was wasn’t very good, at least for the Commander’s long-term health. She made notes in her journal, quickly filling up pages with anything helpful she found.

She shoved the book she was skimming over away from her with a little frustrated growl. In this immense library there simply had to be some better information! She was about to go searching for other books when the sound of a rich, cultured voice stopped her.

“If you’re looking for better information on lyrium, you might want to send to Tevinter for in-depth studies.”  She looked up to find the Tevinter mage standing next to the table she had commandeered for her research.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And how do you know I am looking for information on lyrium, and why should what I am doing interest you?” Her cheeks flamed brilliantly, but she held her ground as she stared up at the handsome dark-haired mage.

He sighed theatrically, placing one beringed hand over his heart. “You wound me,  Mistress Eala, isn’t it? It’s not a mystery, you know. I know you are treating Commander Cullen. I know he is an ex-Templar, and,” he tapped one of the books on the table, “all of these books here include information on lyrium. Ergo, you are searching for information to help him — an endeavor which I applaud.”

“All right, assuming your motives are benign, how and where would I send to Tevinter for this information?”

He laughed. “I can get it for you, my dear healer. And in the meantime, have a look at this.” He laid a thick volume in front of her. “That is from my personal library, and you’ll find some quite interesting and obscure information about lyrium addiction and withdrawals in there.” She eyed him askance, and he laughed again.”Don’t worry. I like the Commander, too, and want to see him taken care of like he deserves.”

“Well, thank you, Master Pavus,” she tilted her head toward him. “I am sure this will be helpful.”

He smiled at her, and as he turned to leave, he said “Keep an eye on Cullen, will you? Don’t let him kill himself for the Inquisition. I fear our dear Lysarah doesn’t…well, let’s leave it that she doesn’t always see the value in what she has. Good day.”

Eala watched him leave with a frown. What could he possibly mean by that? He appeared sincere in his desire to be helpful, but it could still be a ruse to pry more information out of her that he could relay to the Inquisitor.

Opening the book the mage left her, she bit her lip as she turned to the section on lyrium and began to read.  At first, the information much very similar to what she had already read, so she flipped forward impatiently until she came across a passage that mentioned how the Templars in Tevinter did not take lyrium like Templars in the south did because — oh Maker — if taken regularly by non-mages, it binds to the bones, joints, cartilage, and even nerves. The longer the non-mage takes lyrium, and the higher the dose, the more it becomes bound up in the tissues of the body.  

Her heart sank as she closed the book and pushed it away from her. The Commander’s health was in an even more tenuous state than she had first thought, that much was clear. Tears pricked her lids as she remembered her father, lying so thin and frail upon his deathbed.

She could almost smell the sour scent of sickness that permeated the room and the herbs her mother used to try and mask the odor. The setting sun sent beams of golden light through the open window, and outside she could hear the calls of the fishermen as they returned to shore with the day’s catch.  That’s what her father would be doing — should be doing if he wasn’t lying there in this bed, lips cracked and bleeding, cheeks sunken and gaunt. She reached out a young hand and closed her fingers over his. She felt the bones, lying so close under his skin; it felt thin as paper and just as fragile.

Eala shook the memory off, suddenly aware that her cheeks were damp with tears and that her fists were clenched at her sides. Outside, the bells chimed: it was time for the Commander’s treatment.

When she pulled open his office door ( he had long since given her permission to come and go as she liked), she thought that perhaps she should nonetheless knock in the future. Because standing between the Commander’s legs as he sat on the edge of his desk, one claw-tipped hand carding through his hair while the other was buried under his shirt was the Inquisitor. The two were kissing, lost in each other’s embrace, the sounds of their mouths meeting, lips sucking at the other’s carrying through the tower.

Stunned, Eala could only watch as the Commander’s hand pressed against the Inquisitor’s back and pushed her forward — closer to him as the other found the bottom of her tiny top and snaked underneath. The sound of his passioned groan brought her out of her stupor. Maker, what was she doing, watching them as she stood in the doorway!

She must have made a sound as she backed away because the couple pulled apart abruptly as the Commander stood, twin spots of color flaming high on his cheeks. The Inquisitor just wrapped an arm around his shoulders and smirked, tossing back her white blond curls, as if she hadn’t just been caught making out with her Commander.

“Vhenan, it looks like it’s time for your treatment.” She gave his shoulders a squeeze before dropping her arm and slipping away. Her eyes roved up and down his tall form. “I’d best let you get to it. We wouldn’t want our Commander to have to take to his bed tomorrow because of his illness.”

There was a snide tone in her voice that Eala didn’t like, and the Commander seemed to shrink from it, his cheeks growing redder as his gaze remained focused on the floor. “Yes, well — I’ll see you tomorrow, then Lysarah, ” he said without looking up.

“Good night, Cullen,” Inquisitor Lysarah said and nodded at Eala as she passed her. She snapped her fingers, her long nails clicking together as she lifted the other hand to point one dagger-tipped finger toward the man still standing by his desk. “Take care of him.”

Even after the Inquisitor left, Eala remained where she stood, stock still and mute. That — that had been unexpected. She knew that the Inquisitor and the Commander were getting closer all the time, but she did not imagine that he would — that he would have been this far into it with her while he was still — Eala shook herself off. Thinking thoughts like that would get her nowhere. She had a job to do.

“Well, Commander,” she snapped as she walked away from the door. “Shall we proceed?”

“I —uh — I must have lost track of time. Forgive me.” He looked up at her then down again, his cheeks still pink. He rubbed the back of his neck. “But, yes, I suppose we should begin. “

Upstairs, she waited while he got undressed and climbed into his bed. She could hear the crickets chirping through the hole in his roof as she wondered how far his relationship with the Inquisitor had progressed. Were they sleeping together? It seemed likely, given the embrace she had just interrupted.

“You are quiet tonight,” he observed from behind her. She heard him drop his clothes into the laundry pile that he kept in one corner of his room and the creak of the floorboards under his feet as he crossed to the bed. “I-I hope we did not offend you with that scene down there. I-if we did, I do apologize for it — time did, ah, get away from me.”

Eala took a deep breath before replying. “It’s fine, Commander. You don’t need to apologize to me.  Are you in bed yet?” She winced as she heard the edge she couldn’t quite keep out of her voice.

There was the rustle of bed sheets, then a soft sigh as he settled himself on his mattress. “All right,” he said, and she turned around to find him lying on his stomach, the sheets pulled up to the tops of his hips.

Silently, she picked up the jar of cream and knelt down at his side to begin applying the pleasant-smelling liniment to his shoulders and back. The heady scent and the feel of the man lying beneath her massaging hands calmed and centered her. They were friends. She could be Cullen Rutherford’s friend.

As she worked, he sighed and wriggled his shoulders. “I —ah — wanted to ask you something. “

“What did you want to ask? “

“Well, you know that I am taking the bulk of the army into the Western Approach at the end of the month. I would like you to accompany me — as a  personal attendant. I hate to tie up your services, but you know my back, and my hips have been especially troublesome of late. “ He winced and groaned as she dug into the knots where his lower back joined his hips.“By the Maker, that is good. I’m afraid that the ride there will kill me if I do not have your hands to keep me going. “

A snide voice inside her urged her to tell him to have the Inquisitor care for him instead. She squelched the words down and focused instead on the way her stomach fluttered at the thought of being with him away from Skyhold, being with him throughout the day and into the night.  She thought of riding beside him, chatting with him en route, and putting her hands on him to soothe his aches at the end of every day.  Like every other time with this man, there was only one answer she could give:

“I would be happy to, Commander,” and there was no way that she could keep the happiness out of her voice. No way that she could stop the swell of emotion welling in her chest and burning in her cheeks. To have him to herself for the journey — aside from him carrying out his duties, of course. To have no other duty herself but to care for him. It was as if the Maker had granted her a boon.

He turned over in bed, careful to keep the sheets tucked in around his waist and took her hands in his. He raised them to his lips and kissed the knuckles of each one before tucking them against his warm chest. “Thank you, Eala. You are Maker sent to care for me as you do.” Suddenly, he tugged her down until she was sprawled across his chest and he was hugging her tightly, his mouth near her ear pressing soft kisses to the side of her head. “But you must stop using my title, especially when we are alone,” he growled into her ear. “Can you do that for me?”

She wriggled in his arms, his breathing tickling her ear, but she did not pull away. Instead, she sighed into his chest, feeling the hair there prickle against her lips. “All right, Cullen,” she said, and she was rewarded with another tight hug.

He pushed her back far enough that he could reach down and tip her chin up so he could see her face. He raised his head far enough to gently kiss her forehead, her nose, and her lips. “That’s my girl,” he said, as he lay his head back on his pillows with a sigh, tucking her in against him once again.

For the second time that night, Eala was stunned silent. The Comm — Cullen had just kissed her. On the lips. She sighed and buried her face into his chest, too happy in the moment to consider what it might mean.

[lily-of-the-night]

For the physical features meme; hair, eyes, mouth, skin, and hands

[hair]: length, colour, texture, whether it grows quickly or slowly, how manageable it is, whether it requires lots of styling, do they leave stray hairs everywhere, is it present on their face, is it present on the rest of their body, etc.

Before I get to his luscious mane, let me just say: his body is entirely hairless. Literally the only hair he has is that which is growing from his scalp, his lashes and his eyebrows. He cannot grow body hair. (Apologies to anyone hoping to see his Highness with a beard, it ain’t happenin’). 

Okay, that outta the way, his brows and lashes are more or less the same colour  as the hair growing from the top of his head, which is platinum blonde (it isn’t white, per se, although it can seem that way depending on lighting). 

As for the hair growing from his scalp: it is very fine and soft in texture but also tends to grow thickly (as in multiple strands per follicle), it’s a mixture of curly and wavy, about waist length currently. It does grow rather quickly and it is very manageable due to it’s texture and how well he takes care of it (i.e. brushing every night, and washing it with special mixtures his mother invented for him). It requires no styling (unless he wants it straight, of course) and he rarely leaves stray hairs anywhere.

[eyes]: not just the colour, but the shape, the length of their eyelashes, whether they're alert or usually half-closed, large or small, sunken into the face, ringed by bags, etc.

Almond shaped, though slightly upturned at the outer corner, Adrian’s eyes are generally not alert in appearance. In fact, he usually looks bored (or like he’s trying to seduce, depending on whom he happens to be looking at). He’s got fairly long lashes (again with the androgynous) that fan out across his cheekbones when his eyes are closed (though not unnaturally so, they don’t look fake, guys, okay? lol). The size is not too large and not to small, fitting rather well proportionately to the rest of his features. They aren’t deep set and they don’t protrude and he never has bags under his eyes, no matter how tired he may feel (can’t really convince someone to let you bite them if you look like you haven’t slept in five years, amirite?) which may be another evolutionary trait. 

They are generally the colour of clover honey:

but can darken (quite a bit) or lighten (a little) depending on lighting and his predominant mood. When he’s about to lash out or use one of his exclusively vampiric powers, they glow red very briefly.

[mouth]: are their lips always drawn thin or are they plump and kissable, what's their "default expression"/resting face, do they have all their own teeth, do they use their teeth to smile, etc.

His “default expression” is generally either bored or resting bitch face, although at times it’s just impassive. The colour of his lips resembles pink peonies:

any shade therein depending on how flushed they are and how much he’s been messing with them. They are what can probably be described as plush, his top lip bearing a rather delicate and barely asymmetrical curve where the left side is just a tiny bit thinner than the right, and his bottom lip is visibly fuller. He rarely smiles with teeth despite the fact that his fangs aren’t always distinct (they only descend in times where he’s experiencing strong emotion or needs to feed or defend himself, his incisors otherwise appearing like a normal human’s, albeit maybe a little sharper and longer), it’s really more of a self conscious habit stemming from his childhood years when keeping his teeth in check was more difficult.

[skin]: obviously colour, but also if they're inclined to run hot or cold, do they have any blemishes or unusual markings, are they inclined to blush, are they freckled, do they tan, what does their skin feel like, etc.

He’s pale af. Okay, but in all seriousness, he could probably be mistaken for having albinism. (See above photo used for hair reference). He definitely runs cold and, honestly, he hates it. He hates being cold so he’ll often want to seek out warmth if he can. Blushing is a yes, and it generally starts out in a colour matching his lips and then deepens accordingly. If exposed to direct sunlight for a prolonged time, he’ll get sunburn (like any normal human with skin that pale) but it’s really only a nuisance unless it’s for a whole day and the sun is particularly harsh, in which case it does hurt significantly. He doesn’t have any notable blemishes aside from the scar on his chest, which will fade with enough time and enough human blood ingested. 

Texture-wise, Adrian’s skin is very soft and smooth. It’s also a giant sensory receptor on steroids, essentially. This is especially true of his ears and his hands and a few select other areas of his body which he generally always keeps covered when out and about (hence his hair being down, gloves, etc.).

[hands]: are they large or small, do they have pianist's fingers or short stubby ones, do they tend to get sweaty or are they always dry, is the skin rough or delicate, are the nails painted or chewed or sharp, etc.

Adrian’s hands are on the smaller spectrum, but proportionate overall to the rest of him. They’re delicate and slim; long-fingered and always dry. He doesn’t have a single callus so his touch is always soft and pleasant. His nails err on the long side and they are somewhat pointed, although they’re sharper than they seem, functioning fully as claws if the need arises. Colour-wise they look like they’re made of bone china. Something like the top part of this cup: