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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"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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