Everyone’s all drawing their inquisitors and I’m just sitting here therapeutically drawing my advisors until my hands bleed
Please feel free to keep drawing them! and um… I hope you enjoy this lil fic based on the second piece.
Like I really hope…
Cullen
fell to his knees. His breathing, which seconds before had been fast and
shallow, faded into a slow dull thud. He blinked, trying desperately to bring
the world back into focus even as it blurred before his eyes. Amid all the confusion
his grip had loosened on his sword hilt and he immediately tightened it on
reflex, his knuckles whitening with the effort. The sensation grounded him,
reminded him of the pressing danger and urgency of his task.
He took
a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his chest and the aching from every part of
his body, and forced the
world back into focus. For a brief moment everything was clear: the temple of
Mythal ahead of him, the bodies of soldiers from both sides scattered all
around, the faint sound of his men retreating through the forest… He couldn’t
see the Inquisitor’s party, but they had to be well into the temple by now.
Gingerly,
he dragged one leg forwards, his boot barely finding purchase on the lake floor.
It wasn’t enough. As soon as he started to stand it slipped and sent him
tumbling headfirst into the water. Fresh pain blossomed from his temple. It
took all his strength to fight off the unrelenting darkness and stay conscious
long enough to roll onto his back.
He
breathed steadily, slowly, in and out before absentmindedly reaching up to prod
his head wound. The fact that his fingers came away glistening red with his own
blood should probably have concerned him more than it did, but as it was, all
he could care about was the warmth of it trickling down from his temple, a nice
contrast to the cool shallow water gently lapping at him.
SourFlame 