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9:42 Dragon
With her sleeves rolled up out of her way, Cordelia worked to restock the poultices and tinctures in the infirmary, grinding plants with her mortar and pestle. At least, she was trying to, but her very silly lover was being a major distraction. Krem leaned on his elbows at the tall table she worked at, claiming he was helping. He was not. A pair of younger girls giggled as they worked at the other end of the table.
"See, you're distracting the apprentices, too," she said, swatting at Krem's arm.
"They'll be fine," he said as he flashed them a charming smile. She rolled her eyes. "You are just trying to get rid of me."
"Yes, I am! I'm working." She ground the mortar and pestle particularly hard. "You can have me all to yourself when I'm done." She cast a coy glance his way, and he chuckled.
"Oh, alright. This is what I get for courting such a hardworking lady." He rounded the table and came up beside her. When she looked up, he slid his arms around her waist, and she narrowed her eyes. "Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?"
"Fine." She crossed her arms, closed her eyes, and waited. Krem placed a sweet kiss on her lips, and she swayed into him, setting her hands on his chest. He smiled into the kiss, which she mirrored as he pressed their foreheads together and nudged her nose with his. Unable to help herself, she pecked his lips again, then turned back to her station. "I'll find you later."
"Oh, I'm sure you will," Krem said. "You can never resist." For that particular comment—while not untrue—she twisted to bat at him again, but he was already out of her reach. "Until then, my lady." She rolled her eyes, blushing, and finally returned to her plants.
Cordelia pretended not to hear Krem greet Cullen with a respectful "Commander" as he left. The salve was almost ready to be put in a jar. She would like to complete that task before starting another. Ideally. Though that was a rare thing in her life. Another task like retrieving the tea blend for Cullen's headaches that he'd recently run out of. Cordelia had packaged it for him this morning and bid him to stop by the infirmary this evening to restock.
Her friend approached, his armour and boots making far too much noise to ever be stealthy, and waited very politely. It allowed her to get the salve to the right consistency.
He cleared his throat. “Good evening, Cordelia. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
"Hello, Cullen," she said, sparing him a glance. "Give me just a minute to finish this up. Krem was... a terrible distraction from my work." She felt badly about making him wait, but she knew him to be patient. More patient than herself, anyway.
She grabbed a jar and spooned the salve into it, trying to get every last bit out of the mortar before screwing on the lid. She could label it later. As she wiped her hands on her apron, she turned to the shelves of stores.
"Okay. Tea." Now if she could remember where she'd put it... She'd set it aside for him, labelled with his name and instructions on steeping. As if he didn't already know how to make it after all the months she'd spent providing him support with his withdrawal symptoms. She set her hands on her hips with furrowed brows as she scanned the shelves and table.
Were this anyone else, she might've been concerned by Cullen's silence, but that was just how he was. He didn't speak when he had nothing to say… though it may have been nice for him to ask her how she was doing. That was something friends did, after all. She supposed she could ask him the same thing.
"How is everything up in your tower?" she queried as she moved jars around on the tabletop.
"The same as usual," he said, then seemed to realise that was a lame answer, and offered more. "The Inquisitor has made progress in our hunt for Samson." Corypheus's… general? Something like that. Lover of red lyrium… former templar from Kirkwall. Most of the information she had was from Cullen's own accounts, which were vague, to say the least. Someday, he might trust her enough to share more about his past, but not yet.
"Oh, that's good! She's still in…" she gestured with her hand as she searched for the name of the region in Orlais… "ah, Emprise du Lion? She's still there?"
"That's right."
After another few moments of looking for the tea, she grumbled and crossed her arms, scanning the shelves with narrowed eyes.
“Was it…the top shelf, behind the dried elfroot last time?” Cullen suggested, and she could hear a smile in his voice.
June'enaste, I hope not. She worried she might've muttered the thought aloud given the small snort she heard from Cullen. Couldn't he see the shelves and tell her if it was there? Was he just sending her on a wild goose chase? Well, more waiting for him, then. Honestly, if it meant he spent more time away from his desk, she was glad to delay the delivery.
She pushed onto her tiptoes, which was futile as she couldn't see onto the top shelf. Just in case he was right, she climbed up onto the counter—she'd clean it later—and peered at the top shelf. Hmmm. She nudged the containers of dried elfroot aside to look behind them, but saw nothing.
"I swear, it was just here earlier," she said, hands on her hips as she twisted to look down at Cullen. He blinked up at her, wide-eyed. She didn't know how he was still surprised every time she did something out of the ordinary. "I need to re-organize the shelves." She told herself that almost every day. It had never happened.
Without getting off the counter, she crouched to get a closer look at the lower shelves, poking around at the jars. Cullen coughed and hummed a vague reply to her musing—some kind of agreement about reorganization.
She heard more snickering from the apprentices; no doubt in response to Cullen's presence. It would be hard to find someone who didn't find him handsome, she thought. Several of the apprentices had repeatedly expressed their disappointment that Cordelia was the one who "got to" tend to him. She had repeatedly told them to keep their mouths shut.
The state of his withdrawal was not meant to be spread around like gossip, nor the fact that he was experiencing withdrawal at all. The negative effect that could have on the Inquisition's reputation… She consoled herself that there had been nothing to suggest the apprentices had disobeyed her order.
Cordelia had proven herself trustworthy, capable, and discrete from the first few days in Haven, to Adan's eternal surprise. She didn't find out why Cullen regularly came for tonics and salves until the end of the first month, when she came across Adan's notes on treatment. All the puzzle pieces fit together, including bits from her brief conversations with Cullen.
He realised she knew when she not-so-subtly started recommending other things that could help with certain symptoms he'd been having. After the embarrassment wore off, he seemed relieved to have her know… and to have someone other than Adan assigned to helping him. Although, over time, her and Cullen's relationship had blossomed from healer and patient into a friendship.
Frowning at the shelves, full of everything but what she was looking for, Cordelia made to stand up again, but, she lost her balance. Her feet slipped out from under her and she started to fall. Well, if she cracked her head open, at least she was already in the infirmary.
Cordelia hit... not the ground with an oof. Strong, muscle-corded arms caught her, the slight dig of metal bracers lost beneath the realization that it was Cullen who now held her like a princess in some fairytale—one arm around her torso and the other beneath her legs. That was embarrassing. Less embarrassing than hitting her head on the floor, though.
"Whoops," she said as she caught her breath. Looking up at his face, she found him flushed, his honey eyes wide. "Do you have a fever?" She lowered her voice so no one would overhear and touched the back of her hand to his heated cheek. "I have something for that too, if you want." Cordelia smiled and dropped her hand, then grew increasingly awkward with each second he didn't respond, nor put her down.
“Possibly. I, uh, thank you.” Carefully, he helped her stand, feet planted firmly on the ground. He released her, but his body swayed back towards her for a moment, as if tethered to her somehow. “Are you alright?”
She laughed softly, brushing a curl out of her face that had wiggled free of her coronet. "Quite. Thanks to your rescue." She patted his chestplate with a smile before she turned back to the table. She plucked the tonic for his fever easily from the rack and scanned the countertop again for—Creators, was it sitting right there the entire time?
"Well, that's embarrassing," she muttered as she leaned over and grabbed the tin of tea for him. "Hiding in plain sight." She presented the two items to Cullen, then said, "Do you want a sack? I think there are some small ones around somewhere..."
He smiled, accepting the items despite her forgetfulness. It didn’t seem to matter what she did, he was always amused her mannerisms and quirks. She'd found it awfully reassuring in Haven, when everything was so new and different and people would give her curious looks even as she healed their wounds. Cullen was never like that. He was respectful and earnestly interested in her Dalish practices.
“I should be strong enough to carry them, there’s no need for a bag, but I appreciate the offer.”
"I just meant—Nevermind." She shook her head at herself with a small smile. "Let me know when you need another refill, lethallin. Oh, and Bull wants you to join for cards tonight. I'm not sure if he already asked..." His smile fell slightly, and her hope along with it.
“Thank you for the invitation, but I won’t have the time tonight,” he said. He never had time for leisure. She almost always had to force him into it. “Another time.”
A pity. She was better at cards than chess—which he had tried and failed to teach her to play all of a single time, after which she gave up. One day she would find a backgammon board in this giant castle, but until then…
She hoped the minor disappointment didn't show on her face. It wasn't a big deal. He was a busy man. She doubted "another time" would actually exist, but at least he was trying.
"Ah, well, then I'll... see you around." She didn't have the same reasons to visit him as she did, say, Solas, with whom she studied magic, debated, learned of dreams he'd witnessed and spirits he'd met. She supposed she could drop in to say hello whenever she wanted—his office doors were unlocked and runners went through all the time—but she didn't want to distract him from his work, which was far more important than discussing the flavourlessness of Fereldan food or what Fereldan architecture was like. He was her friend, but she still wasn't sure how to be friends with the Commander of the Inquisition.
With nothing left to say, Cullen inclined his head and departed.
"I think you nearly gave the Commander a heart attack, Enchanter," one of the apprentices said, drawing Cordelia's attention away from his retreating form. She didn't feel like correcting the girl on her title again; she knew they were just trying to be respectful, but she would rather not be referred to by the same descriptor as those who lived in the Circles of Magi.
"What's that?"
"When you were up on the counter? He was—" The other apprentice swatted the first before she could finish, hissing her name. Cordelia arched a brow, confused and intrigued.
"She doesn't know what she's talking about, miss," the swatter said.
"Right… well, finish those tonics and clean up after yourselves and you can be done for the day," Cordelia directed. They eagerly obeyed as she turned back to the table to label her poultice. Only a little longer before she could go and unwind.