and if I only could make a deal with God

[lettersfromhome]

WHO: Mia Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford, and YOU
WHAT: Councils and meetings are well and good, but someone's got to see to the damage done and the people who need reassurances.
WHEN: Haring 12, 13, 14
WHERE: Closed thread in Cullen's office. Then, all over Skyhold. Mostly wherever an extra set of hands are needed.
NOTES: Possible discussion of traumatic events.

And she'd thought Darkspawn were terrifying. They had been, certainly, every bit as deadly and in numbers that could shake even the bravest of men. The images of Honnleath falling to the horde would never leave her mind, as long as she lived.

But that creature that had gone tearing through the castle...

Of course in its wake people wanted to turn it into a point of argument. The mages were quick enough to engage the more political side of the issue to protect their people. Not unwise, when blame would shift so quickly their way. But politics weren't her concern, certainly not those of the mages and templars. There were instead many in the hold who might need help picking back up after the nightmarish encounter with the monster.

Simple things could go a long way. Bandages and herbs for the injured. Mending torn clothes. Warm food and blankets as a comfort to those for whom the effects could not so easily be mended. They were not grand gestures, they would shape nothing in the grander course of things, but someone had to look out for the little people. She'd gladly take on that role.

----

Then, of course, her mind would turn to her brother. He'd faced abominations numerous times in his life, and being here meant she finally had the chance to look him in the eye, to see if he needed anything, and make certain he was holding together. That business tended to be harder to take care of through letters alone.

So her last stop of the day was the Commander's office, where she knocked sharp and brief before waiting exactly ten seconds. Then, answer or not, she was coming in.

Comments

[perseverances]

Most of the damage done wasn't present. The headaches, the nightmares, those he could hide. "Either way I would die from the adverse effects of the lyrium. I'll go mad whether I'm on it or off."

No, Cullen, don't be negative, he thinks. This is your sister, she deserves your reasoning. "I ask myself every day, is it worth being off the lyrium. Is it work potentially putting everyone at risk if I cannot perform at the best of my abilities?"

He looks to her then. "And I have to tell myself that yes, it is. It has to be."

[lettersfromhome]

"...you would not risk it, otherwise."

There's a note of resignation there, even as her stomach twists into a tight little knot. He looks as though he's been managing well enough, but Maker knows he's always tried to hide when he was hurting, even when it was nothing more than a scraped knee.

"Then the choice was clear. And not taking it to deal with the abomination cannot be something you doubt yourself over," she added after a moment, straightening her shoulders. No tears, there's no time for them.