getggwithit | Another Day (for lovingvambrace)

Another Day (for lovingvambrace)

She left a trail of bloodshed in her path. She put down the monster that her father had become. She faced down the demonic force that had spawned her, and destroyed it. As Valentine absorbed and neutralized the last of Soul Edge's evil essence, Ivy's long and lonely journey came to an end.

Her vow to avenge her parents and to sever her own cruel destiny complete, she returned to her mansion. Accomplishing her goals did not bring back her family, did not change her status as a lonely, cursed noble isolated in her estate with only a few servants for company. It had only left her purposeless. She'd found peace, but had no idea what to do with it.

As the months wound on, the prospect of spending the rest of her life this way began to wear on her. Even if the sword was gone, she was still a facet of its power present in the world. She would never truly escape its legacy. As long as she lived, she would be a link for Soul Edge's rebirth, and a target to those who might seek to resurrect it. The only sensible choice would be to remove herself from this world, to go somewhere that no servant of Soul Edge could ever reach either her or Valentine.

And frankly, traveling seemed far more fulfilling than rotting here in her laboratory for the rest of her life.

It took a year for her to progress in her research far enough to allow her to access Astral Chaos. With Valentine's new infusion of power, it was still easier than it ought to be. She made arrangements for the family steward to take care of the estate, then retreated to her laboratory to perform the rituals to set it up as the focal point of the portal.

Throwing herself into a dimensional hole wasn't the most prudent idea ever, but Ivy was never one to let prudence stand in the way of science. It didn't help that Valentine was excited, for some reason, insisting it knew exactly where to go.

This is what led Ivy to go hurtling through Astral Chaos, emerging on the other side when the portal spat her out in a bed of flowers. No sooner had she picked herself up than she was surrounded by armed soldiers, who took her into custody. (No sense spilling blood, exposing Valentine's deadly secrets when she didn't even know where she was.)

She sits in a cell rather patiently, taking in what information she can observe and planning her next move.

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Up until the revelation of the Qunari spy and the fact things began to go pear shaped from there, Cullen had begun to feel that his presence at Halamshiral was nothing more than formality. For several months now, he has felt the winds of change blowing and had the sense of a phase of his life drawing to a close. The Inquisition has moved so far beyond what it was when they started it. His role has evolved and minimized by necessity.

However, with the Qunari threat front and center, he has security on high alert, has changed from the ridiculous formal wear back to his more comfortable uniform, and is directing things from an impromptu war room while the Inquisitor is out traversing eluvians. When he's brought word of a mysterious prisoner who seemed to materialize out of thin air into a flowerbed, he assumes they're dealing with another Qunari spy, and that said materialization was merely a slip up in stealth.

It's not until early evening that he's free to come check on things personally. He steps into the corridor and stalks down to where the prisoner sits. He'd instructed that she be provided with water and food and trusts his instructions were carried out. Qunari spy or not, the Inquisition doesn't mistreat prisoners. Not on his watch.

He comes to a halt opposite her, his hand resting casually on his pommel. "Not that I expect we'll get much from you, but what do you have to say for yourself?"

She has no complaints about her treatment, apart from being taken prisoner in the first place. Though she understands, given what she's been able to gather about the situation. This is some manner of political gathering, treaty talks, deeply serious affairs. Anyone should be suspect of a random woman falling out of the sky, but especially at such an event.

Valentine alerts her to the approach of the commander. But it's... odd.

There. That's why. Mistress, I did it right.

What are you talking about?

I brought us here, Mistress. I've done it. The dear little thing expresses itself strangely at the best of times, but she really has no idea what that's about.

All the same, there is something about the commander that catches her attention immediately. She can't describe it or put words to it. But he...

"That depends what you're willing to believe," she says, rising from her seat on the bench and stepping towards the bars. "Let us begin with this: I am deeply sorry for any inconvenience or alarm I've caused, Commander. I am no threat to anyone here." Unless she chooses to be. But it hasn't come anywhere close to that yet.

He wants to believe her for a reason he can't fathom. Lyrium has been out of his system long enough that he isn't entirely sure he'd know if anyone was using blood magic on him. Whatever the reason, the impulse isn't strong enough to make him lower his guard. If anything, it simply has him more wary.

"In a cell, I imagine that's true," he says a bit dryly.

"I hope you can forgive me if under the circumstances, I can't afford to take your intentions at face value." He would normally not care at all whether or not someone forgave him for throwing them in a cell when they arrived under suspicious circumstances. Again, there's the odd nagging feeling that it does matter to him. "What shall we call you?"

He fully intends to let Leliana have a go at this later. It's far more her area of expertise.

She wisely does not inform him of her magical sword that could easily fit through the slats of the cell, if she so desired. That just seems needlessly antagonistic.

"Ivy," she says. She does find it funny that he would even mention forgiveness in a situation like this. But this Commander seems...

What is it about him? His eyes. She meets them fearlessly, then finds herself searching them. There is the strangest sense of familiarity about him, but that doesn't make any sense of all.

"As I said, the explanation for my presence may not suffice, depending on what you are willing to believe. In truth, I seem to have fallen into this place via some manner of portal." She knows exactly what kind of portal and where she fell from, but best to test if he's even heard of magic before she commits to that.

He meets her gaze without malice, although his look is stern and uncompromising. So far, she doesn't seem intent on antagonizing him, always a plus in the favor of any prisoner. He does his best to ignore the continued tug of something about her that makes him want to trust.

He snorts very softly, the sound a little dryly amused. "Two years ago, that would have put you in a very uncomfortable position right about now." Because only demons fell from portals then, and one very unlucky dwarf who somehow still managed to land on his feet. "All I'll say on it is that the explanation isn't a nonsensical one, but it's not enough reason for me to have you released."

He makes note of the water pitcher and cup as well as the plate in her cell. "I know you've little reason to believe you won't be drugged or poisoned. I hope you'll take my word on it and keep yourself nourished and hydrated while in our custody." How long that will be depends on things outside of his control.

"If you have any other pressing needs, tell the guard. We'll do what we can to provide within reason."

"I'd be deeply curious about your circumstances here if it was reason enough." It suggests enough people fall out of the sky around here to make it a routine happening. "What happened two years ago?" She hardly expects him to answer that to a prisoner, but curiosity compels her to try.

She's already tasted a bit of the water out of necessity. Throwing oneself through Astral Chaos does make one a bit dehydrated. The strain has completely robbed her of her appetite, though, so she's not touched anything on the plate.

"May I assume, Commander, that I needn't expect anything more distressing than vigorous questioning?" The question is less for her own concerns than for Valentine's. The sword has been fussing about its plans to murder everyone in the near vicinity if anyone harms its mistress.

For some reason, she's not concerned about being harmed. Not by him. She couldn't begin to explain why.

"Funny." He doesn't look amused. It's a poor joke. There isn't a soul in Thedas who wouldn't know what happened two years ago, from the Qun or otherwise.

"You may. We're not in the habit of torturing prisoners." It's not to say it never happens. They'd need a much better reason than simply finding someone somewhere they weren't supposed to be. At any rate, that's a decision for Cadash, and he's not here at the moment.

"I can't guarantee you won't be excessively bored. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for that." He's back to a bit of dryness. "I suggest you make yourself comfortable. It will take time for us to sort things out." He finds himself wanting to linger, which is patently ridiculous. After a moment, he dips his head and turns on his heel to leave.

"Was it?" Oh well. She can hardly expect to be tactful about things she's completely clueless about.

At the very least, she's been reassured that she isn't likely to be tortured or otherwise harmed. And not just because anyone who tries it is going to have Valentine to contend with. So you see, there's no need to be upset. Stop fretting before you give me a headache.

"Perhaps someone could bring me a book or two?" she offers back, similarly dry. She doesn't expect that to actually happen, though, so she heads back over to have a seat on the cot, inclining her head in a brief but courteous bow. "Until later, then, Commander."

Even without a book, she imagines she'll keep herself busy wondering about this sudden disoriented feeling she has. A sort of intense deja-vu, itching in the back of her mind, as though there's something important she's forgotten.

He doesn't dignify the first question with a response. He wonders how well those attempts to be cute will fly with Leliana. Knowing her, not very.

"I strongly doubt you'd be pleased with the Orlesian sensibility when it comes to literature." He hasn't found anything worth reading the title of on the shelves in the office they've graciously apportioned for him. For all he knows she is Orlesian and has simply buried the accent.

He gives a final nod and retreats to return to the other business at hand, trying to keep track of what the Qunari are up to, what's happening with the eluvians, and who's behind it all. It's enough that the prisoner almost slips his mind. Almost.

There's something about her that continues to nag at him, like a buried memory or information he had once only to lose to other pursuits. Perhaps Leliana will be able to help him figure that out after her talk with her later this evening.

Unfortunately for Ivy, her requests for books go ignored. She remains occupied all the same, between her attempts to eavesdrop on the Inquisition personnel to find out more about the world she's landed in, and her continued curious inklings about the commander. It's the frustrating sensation of familiarity that comes alongside knowledge that it isn't possible.

She gets as far as trying to puzzle out the idea of doppelgangers in alternate universes when she's summoned out of her cell for an interrogation. Valentine is confiscated as she's removed, and it takes all her concentration to command it still until further notice. She can hear it calling out for her in the room where the spymaster interrogates her, and it's immensely distracting.

But Ivy doesn't lie. This woman is far too sharp for that. She can't answer any questions about Halamshiral or Orlais or the Inquisition because she hasn't the faintest idea what they are. She hasn't lost her memories, and her mind seems perfectly intact when she calmly relays that she doesn't know where she is, only that she came through a portal from another world. Speaking of her estate near London, alchemy, and Astral Chaos likely doesn't help her sound any more coherent, but far moreso than if she simply made things up.

She's returned to the cell, where she can yet hear Valentine crying for her from the lockup nearby. The fact that they've chosen not to trust her with a weapon is slightly concerning, to say the least, but it's not as though she needs to be holding her sword to make it deadly.

She still refrains. She has the strangest feeling that everything will work itself out, though God only knows why. It has something to do with the commander.

Cullen is up well into the night after Cadash returns from one of his forays into the Eluvians. Everyone is on edge and doing their best not to alarm the various representatives of the nations and kingdoms in attendance. Cullen is glad it's largely a job for Josephine.

After Leliana quizzes the prisoner, she calls all three of them together with the addition of Cadash to discuss the situation. He listens attentively, not thrilled with everything he's hearing but not alarmed to the point of believing her to be an immediate threat. All agree she should remain locked up for now. With the chaos at large, any other unknown factors present the danger of a distraction at the least.

Because of where they are, Cullen puts forth that she should at least be moved to a windowless room where she has a bed and a few books at her disposal. With a guard at her door, she's unlikely to break free and cause mischief. At the end of the Exalted Council, if they've discovered nothing else alarming, they can return her sword to her and set her free.

Josephine points out that if she is in the circumstances she claims, she'll need aid, something he finds himself quick to say he can do. They look at him in that way that always turns his ears red, only Cadash taking him more at face value and not teasing about a pretty face and nice figure.

Having decided, Cullen orders an aid to find and prepare a room and takes it upon himself to return to her. He makes sure to rap on the outer door leading to the inner cells before approaching in case she was sleeping. Standing before her once more, he says, "Leliana reports quite the tale from you."

She's not asleep, despite her best attempts. It's difficult to sleep with the mournful howling song of a living blade repeating over and over again where only she can sense it. It's not an audible sort of song, the sort she could "hear" as she hears Valentine's words. It's a sensation that she's never been able to suitably describe, a resonance born from the connection they share that's deeper than blood or magic.

It's comforting, but also incredibly distracting. It also means that Valentine has learned to utilize loopholes, expressing its upset at their separation while still obeying her commands to be silent. Fantastic.

Ivy sits up at the sound of the knock, settling her boots on the floor and brushing her hair back. She looks up at Cullen and can't help a little smirk. Whether from the understatement or some inexplicable pleasure at seeing him again, she's not sure.

"Indeed. I only hope it's not taken as a sign of madness." Her smile turns a bit wry. "Is there something I can clarify for you? I'll answer anything if you'll only give me something to read."

"No, she didn't seem to believe you mad. You won't be remanded to the healers. Unfortunately, we are not in a position where we can allow you to wander at will. I've ordered more proper quarters for you while we're working out a few things." Understatement of the year.

"Assuming nothing questionable happens involving you between now and then, you'll be freed within the next two weeks maximum." They have no reason to hold her beyond the end of the council as far as he can tell.

"And yes, you'll have some books." Nothing useful in case she is a spy. It should at least give her some idea of the culture and the land she has found herself in. He rubs at the back of his neck, the perpetual knot. "I'll escort you there once they have it prepared."

"Imprisonment, with a more luxurious cell." She didn't expect any different, really. Next time, she'll attempt to not land right within the middle of important political negotiations. Ivy's considered the option of opening up another portal through Astral Chaos and returning to the fixed point she's marked back in her laboratory at home.

Unfortunately, it's a bit dangerous to do it indoors without full knowledge of what's around her... and even if she wanted to, without Valentine she can't do a thing.

Still, she doesn't want to seem ungrateful. At least she'll have a decent room and things to read. "Thank you for the quarters, in any case. Rather hospitable of your... Inquisition, was it called?"

"Yes." He pauses before adding, "For now. I regret it can't be different. We simply can't take the chance." Not with how chaotic everything has been since the spy was sighted and Cadash's increasingly disturbing discoveries.

He nods. "The Inquisition. I'll see to it that you receive a bit of information on it." He'd not share anything not already widely known, of course, but he hopes it will set her mind at ease and finds himself wondering why he cares so much.

Another perfunctory knock announces the arrival of a page. "The room is ready, Sir. Will you require extra guard?"

Cullen glances back at her, a faint smile curving the edges of his mouth. "I have a feeling you'll behave if I ask nicely. I'll even escort you properly if you agree. Will you?"

"Serves me right for landing in the middle of tense political negotiations, I suppose."

The knock on the door stirs her, and she sits upright on the cot. Thank goodness she can get out and walk, even if it's only between here and her new, more bedroom-shaped cell. Too bad she'll still be able to hear Valentine crying out from a distance.

That little smile of his catches Ivy off-guard, and she mirrors it with one of her own, tempered with a bit of surprise. "Well. You are asking nicely, aren't you?" She stands up and shows him her hands, the universal signal that she means no harm. "I'll be perfectly sweet to you."

Cullen takes the key from the guard and unlocks the cell, the rusty hinges squeaking when he swings open the door and steps back. True to his word, once she joins him in the corridor, he offers his arm properly. It isn't entirely gallantry. The last thing they want are rumors running rife of strange prisoners being moved mysteriously through the palace. If she looks like a guest, it might not totally cut off talk. It will make it less alarmist talk.

He holds his silence and a pleasant expression when escorting her where others can see. Only when they reach the interior guest wing and can be sure others aren't close enough to eavesdrop does he break it. "The Winter Palace is known for its hospitality. You've managed a good time to be captured. The food is much more varied than it would be at other times."

He doesn't know how she feels about Orlesian fare. He's not a fan and plans to ensure she is offered some choice for the duration of her stay. "If you have questions of the sort it wouldn't typically be dangerous for someone to answer, I'll indulge."

Up close, he still smells faintly of oakmoss and elder flower. It is largely overpowered now by leather and silverite, plus the faint fur scent that always clings to his mantle.

He certainly earns some silent appreciation for the proper escort. Ivy is the type to forcefully wait until it's offered to her. She takes his arm and finds herself drawing slightly close, as though he is a bulwark against any other attention or personnel who may want to have a glimpse at the mysterious prisoner.

"I was expecting gruel and rainwater, to be honest. Anything beyond that will be a lovely surprise." Her imagination briefly tickles her with the notion that whatever they eat in this place is extremely strange or unpalatable for someone from Earth. But this "Orlais" actually has many familiar trappings. It doesn't feel too terribly alien to her own time and place, apart from a few odd differences.

She takes in a breath. He smells good, a sensory detail that she inexplicably takes in above any more pertinent ones.

"My questions are numerous enough that I may require a written list," she says. "But I can choose a few to begin with. Have you ever heard of someone coming through a portal before? As I did. If you do, indeed, believe that I did."

It's rare that he meets a woman tall enough that he doesn't find himself looking way down just to make eye contact, Vivienne one of the few who readily comes to mind, and her height is largely from her boot heels. He chuckles a bit at her expectations. "Empress Celene would never allow it to be circulated that any prisoner at the Winter Palace made do with gruel. You may not get the best wine from the cellars. I doubt you'll find it disappointing." One of the few things he can appreciate about Orlais is the wine.

"If you had arrived before two years ago, I'd have said no. All of us would have and likely would have believed you mad or a laughably terribly liar. There have been many changes since then, although the only person to come out of a portal turned out to be someone from here who was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Or the right time, depending upon how one cares to look at it.

He still harbors some doubts that she isn't from somewhere in Thedas and merely good at pretending. It's the fact he can't determine how it would benefit her that keeps him from worrying about it too much. "And now there are yet more odd ways to travel, so at this point, I'm not discounting much of anything as possibility." He takes them through wide double doors into a much nicer corridor lined with thick rugs and ornate side tables piled with flowers.

"There is to be wine? My goodness. Perhaps I'm still underestimating the accommodations for prisoners." A bed, excellent food, wine? As long as he wasn't lying about the presence of books in her room, maybe this isn't going to be so bad after all (and as long as the books are in a language she can read. That would be just her luck.)

"Unusual but not impossible, then. I will put to rest my concerns about being burned as a witch or the like. I'm growing more and more convinced I crashlanded in the right place."

She looks around at the furnishings as they pass through the hallways, a level of luxury she's familiar with and deeply appreciative of. It's almost enough to distract her from the overwhelming feeling of deja vu he's still inspiring somewhere in the back of her thoughts.

"Commander... Cullen, was it?" She turned her face slightly to throw him a glance, out of the corner of her eye. "I do appreciate your fair treatment, thus far. You seem..." Ivy stops just short of saying "familiar." "The guards seemed to speak well of you."

He makes a mental note to consult Dorian about the wine. His palate is more refined. No one strictly has to know that the requested bottle isn't for his own enjoyment. He tells himself that if she is a spy, there's a chance kinder treatment could incline her toward less mischief. As he says it to himself, he knows it's not his true motivation. Sussing out what is is proving to be more difficult.

"We don't really do that sort of thing anymore when we can help it." Abominations still must be put down, but the treatment of mages, well. Under Cassandra as Divine Victoria, he has a feeling that will change for the better.

"Yes, Cullen." He nods. "The guards shouldn't be speaking of me at all in your earshot." Several someones are going to get a dressing down tonight. As they turn down another corridor, two guards flanking a door come into view.

"Ah, here we are." He takes her the rest of the way to reveal a small room without a window, but decently lit and decently appointed, with a small fireplace and a supply of wood, a seating area with a little round table, a feather bed, a washstand and basin, and a tub big enough to sit up in but not spread out. It's painted eggshell blue and colorful, the rug on the floor plush. One small shelf contains several books.

"Nothing damning nor worth subterfuge, Commander Cullen, I assure you."

She feels just slightly guilty about accidentally getting the guards in trouble. But on the other hand, she has the impression that the commander is fair and will not punish them excessively.

She has no idea why she has that impression, either.

Ivy steps into the room and looks around. It's rather quaint, actually, a charming shade of blue. If this is any sort of cell, it's been well-disguised. Her heart leaps excitedly to see the books.

"It's lovely. Thank you for arranging this." She steps over to test the bed, pressing the mattress with her hand. She sinks down to sit on it. "I would ask what the catch is, beyond my staying here for up to two weeks, but that would be tempting fate, wouldn't it?"

She smiles at him. "I suppose I shan't be seeing more of you?"

Damning or not, the guards should know better. His silence says as much on the matter. He follows only a few steps into the room behind her to give her the space to feel it out and make sure she's comfortable to her satisfaction for what it is. He's aware a cell is a cell, whether charmingly decorated or barren and uncomfortable. There's only so much he can do.

"You're welcome." He watches her, something about the way she moves and holds her head almost familiar. The impression seems to come and go.

"You're not tempting fate. No catch, I assure you." And if all goes well, when they're able to release her, he'll be able to help her with some prospects for herself.

"I can't make any promises, depending upon what happens here, but...I'll do what I can to drop in from time to time. Someone will come along to see to a bath for you, and I believe Leliana mentioned something about clothing. I'm sure she knows how to arrange for such things."

He backs out of the room and lifts his fist to his chest with a slight bow. "Maker watch over you until next we meet." With the closing of the door comes the sound of a lock thrown. Nice room or not, it is very clear it is still a prison.

Ordinarily, she would think he was only humoring her. A commander had little or no reason to visit a prisoner, and there was really no reason he should be any different. But somehow when he said he would try, she believed him.

These strange thoughts and feelings were getting irritating. Like an itch that she couldn't find to scratch.

In any case, Ivy settles in to being imprisoned. Up here, she can only barely feel the connection with her sword, which is a relief just in that she knows it's lying still and silent waiting for her hand to touch it again. It'll stay on its best behavior and keep them both out of trouble.

She lies down to sleep, hoping to ease away some of the aches from dozing on the cot down in the cell. When she awakens early in the morning, just before dawn, she washes her face in the basin and grabs one of the books she was anticipating. The first seems to be some kind of historical epic, whether real or fictional she isn't sure. Thankfully, she can understand the language, even if some of the discussed topics and concepts are fascinatingly bizarre.

What are the odds they'll trade her for more books later if she reads them all? She really ought to make this small shelf's worth last for two weeks, but with nothing else to occupy her time, it's a concern worth noting.

It's a very busy next several days with the mystery of the eluvians deepening and the hunt for the Dread Wolf growing ever more convoluted and troubling. Cullen has precious little time to spare. He does check in with her a few times to be certain her treatment has no cause for complaint and to make sure she doesn't fully run out of books.

Finally one afternoon it hits him that perhaps she'd enjoy a visitor of a different sort. The mabari he has liberated seems friendly enough, a puppy's temperament, so Cullen packs a basket with dog treats and a few tidbits from the banquet of state being held for the various dignitaries. No one will miss a few canapes and the like.

He knocks on the door with the mabari close to his side and the two guards outside the room looking a bit bemused. They seem to know better than to say anything.

Despite her odd confidence in his visitations, Ivy is still pleased (and relieved) when he does stop in for those brief visits the first few days. The books are taking longer than she thought, given how many strange concepts she's come across in reading them, and at one point she asks for some parchment and ink so that she can start to make notes for herself. (She agrees readily to show the notes to anyone who wants to see them, just to ensure she isn't drafting spy letters.)

Otherwise, apart from being confined in the first place, she has little to complain about. It's certainly the most luxurious imprisonment she could have ever expected.

It takes a moment for her to come out of her reading when she hears the knock on the door, but she rouses and goes to open it. The first thing she spots is a dog the size of a horse, a sight which startles her into yelping and slamming the door shut again.

It reopens a moment later, her composure regained, and she looks back and froth from Cullen to the massive dog.

"Pardon me. I wasn't expecting-- such a dog."

She quirks her lips into a smile, her tone a little teasing. "Is this a social call, or am I to be devoured?"

The sudden slamming of the door has him starting back and Blade letting out a half bark. Both guards' hands fly to their pommels only for them to recover quickly and straighten again as though nothing happened at all.

Cullen is on the verge of heading back down the corridor, cheeks red, when the door opens again. "No, my apologies. I perhaps should have given you warning to expect, ah...us." He motions toward the dog with his free hand.

"Fortunately for you, I've brought treats." He then lifts the basket. "If we distract him sufficiently, I imagine you'll be spared." His cheeks are still bright red. He'd very nearly tripped over phrasing best left unspoken. There's no polite way to mention where Blade might bite. "May we?" He gestures past her to the small room.

She looks from Cullen down the basket to what must be the largest dog she's ever seen-- or else the most canine-looking small horse. A smile quirks at the corner of her lip, and she holds the door open.

"That sounds delightful. Please, come in." The irony is of course that she's a prisoner and he doesn't need to ask her permission to enter the room she's been graciously provided in lieu of a cell. The fact he asked anyway speaks well of him, in her opinion.

"I was just in the middle of this magical treatise." Sitting on the bed with a corner of the blanket marking a page is the most hideously thick old tome imaginable. "Brick" seems too small a comparison for its girth. "Magic here functions so differently than what I'm used to. It's quite compelling."

She gestures. "Please, make yourself comfortable. And introduce me to this great beast."

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Another Day (for lovingvambrace)

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