It's easy to spot when Cullen's starting to hit a wall. His fingers to dance like a coin thief's. It'll go on for more than a few hours, Cullen still as stoic and solid as usual except his hands won't stop twitching. What makes it so frighting is that Cullen is ordinarily slow and precise with his words and movements. This is anything but.

All four fingers touch to his thumb in such rapid succession they blur. If he pulls his hands into a fist, he shakes from his fingers up to his elbow. He'll cross his arms but then his shoulders will quake. If he isn't careful his whole body will tremble like something deranged, something that should be locked up.

The worst part of it is that he's completely aware of himself. He's aware of the stares, the pitying glances or the pointed grimace of, 'serves him right'.

Cullen isn't sure which is worse.

"You're daft, you know that," Inquisitor Cadash chides as she makes to sit close to him.

Cullen pulls away. He hasn't much room to move, having cloistered himself to a stone balcony that overlooks the unsettled parts of Sky Hold. If the Inquisitor were qunari they'd be pressed together. It's still close, given Cadash's wide hips but he doesn't feel overwhelmed by her presence.

For that reason he pulls further into himself. His whole body is thrumming at the presence of her Fade Magic. She's talking again but he can't understand the words, his world centered around the pulse of her heart-beat pulsing blood through the magic of her hand.

It's unbearable.

"Please," he begs because desire is and always will be his demon. "Begone. I do not.. " He can't put his thoughts together anymore. This is worse. This is so much worse than the shaking.

"Why haven't you taken your lyrium ration?" Cadash asks and he whimpers at the word. Void and demons, he can't remember why it was so important.

"F-for the troops." Cullen can't control the waver of his voice. Forcing his stance straight, he addresses Cadash again. "Rations. . .low due to war. Didn't want to..." For his efforts only his hands are shaking but his vision is going white like the after image of a flame. He can hardly see Cadash now, though he knows concern and anger are wrought on her face.

Cullen forces his thoughts to calm. "Mana Potions would be far too potent. Whatever viles of lyrium we had left were divided among the troops, mine included."

As adviser, Cullen had access to larger quantities of lyrium than other Templar trained soldier. The catch of course is that he goes into withdrawal quicker.

"You stupid equalist." She shakes her head and he has enough sense of himself to note the affection in her voice. "Wouldn't take any more lyrium than your men. Stupid." Cadash offers her hands to him and after a long moment Cullen reaches out.

His hands stop shaking at once. His skin is white-cold where they touch and the sensation jolts through him, painful and cool and exactly what he needs to come back. He's left sagging, half bent over his small Inquisitor. She's solid. She's unwavering and giving as she helps him to lean against the wall, their hands still linked.

When he's back his body is wrecked with exhaustion. Every part of him hurts. It weighs on him like an anchor attached to his bones. Cadash is muttering at him again. He knows he should care but he doesn't want to focus beyond the bond between them. Cadash squeezes his fingers and Cullen looks to her.

"You're an idiot of a Templar and a terrible adviser for letting yourself get to this point." Her face is flushed but he knows it isn't from anger. Cullen leans down to kiss the part in her hair. It's quick, something more pentatonic than anything else but Cadash squirms and pouts at a wall.

"And terrible at aim." Cadash reaches up to kiss him properly.

Cullen's only complaint is that he's too tired to offer much more than his parted lips but Cadash doesn't fuss. He wraps an arm around her waist and tries to haul her up but his arms are boneless. Cadash's laugh is breathy and quiet. Cullen's isn't any better. He doesn't care. With her he feels centered.