bakerstreet | minor injury meme.

You or your meme partner has been hurt, but don't worry! This time around it's not that bad. You can still limp your way out of this mess.

INJURIES.
1. Sprain/strain. How did you screw up walking?
2. Broken bones. Simple fractures still hurt.
3. Cuts. Hopefully one of you has a sewing kit.
4. Burns. Location, location, location. Let's pray this one isn't on your ass.
5. Concussion. No, they're most likely not holding up fifteen fingers.
6. Other. I'm not a doctor.

HOW'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Stupidity. You did this to yourself.
2. Accident. Is an unintentional attack still an attack?
3. Attack. Don't lie, you deserved it.
4. Other. It's probably still your own fault.

WHERE'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Home. Did you remember to invest in a first aid kit?
2. School/Work. This should be excellent for getting you out of doing stuff!
3. Outdoors. Predators like the smell of blood. Clean up asap.
4. In the water. Hopefully there aren't any sharks!
5. Other. Like a hospital. That'd be handy.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"And with your leadership, there's much we might yet do. Provided you manage to avoid shields in the future."

A bit of levity might be needed after all that. It couldn't have been easy, watching the mages succumb to panic and paranoia. They could have easily been friends of his, just as the templars could have been his. The Inquisitor wasn't the only one wondering what might have happened if fate had taken a different turn. He might have ended up on the wrong side of things all over again.

And yet he hadn't. He was here, and in good company. Perhaps the finest he'd ever served.

"You're very good at that. Knowing what to say to make everything seem like it not only can be done, but that it will be done and that there's no reason to think otherwise." Enough so that he was going to let the continued remarks about the shield slide. Well, that and the fact that Cullen was sitting by his injured side which meant an elbow in retaliation was not only useless but probably painful to try.

It was a little frightening and a little inspiring to hear things like that, and know Cullen believed them.

"Am I?" The comment appeared to surprise him for a moment before he chuckled, reaching to rub at the back of his head. "I...have no gift for words, not in the way our ambassador might. I only know what I believe to be true. You may have that, for what it is worth."

If he didn't believe, he wouldn't still be here. He wouldn't have lent his voice to the notion that a mage should be their leader, and shape the fate of the world as they knew it. As reckless as the young man could be, Cullen had every faith that his decisions would lead them from this darkness.

Mishaps like this could have happened to anyone. Perhaps they were simply being kept on their toes.

"That belief means a lot to me. And to everyone else too, I think." Trevelyan had never been the most ardent believer, but he believed now, and he knew how important it was to believe.

He glanced around, at the men practicing and Cassandra abusing a training dummy, then down at his own injured right arm. "Join me for a drink? I promise there will be no card games."

"Maker's breath."

A hand lifted to rub at the bridge of his nose. He was never going to live that game down, was he? He supposed that was his comeuppance for underestimating Josephine.

"I mean, yes. I think I could use one, actually, provided Iron Bull and his men haven't gone through the lot of it already."

He couldn't keep from smiling at the reaction to the mention of card games, and genuinely hoped Varric could talk him into playing again some day.

Maxwell put a mock serious look on his face at the mention of Bull and his men drinking everything. "They bring their own. Trust me, you don't want it." But he couldn't keep from cracking a smile and blushing slightly. "Especially if it has a Qunari name."

Now he just needed to get up and actually walk to the tavern.

"Speaking from personal experience, I take it." Of course he would be. They'd just been discussing his tendency to experience things headlong and headfirst. He could hardly judge, with a few such sordid affairs littering his own past, and he mindfully refrained from clapping the man on his injured shoulder as he moved to stand at last.

Mention of Bull drew an arched eyebrow. "I don't know what I expected having a Qunari in our encampment, but it certainly wasn't what we got," he admitted softly. "I remember the Qunari from Kirkwall being very...different."

To say the least.

"I have to make up for lost time acquiring life experience," He said, giving a half shrug. But Cullen did have a point about Bull. "He's the only Qunari I've ever seen, but he doesn't fit their reputation."

After another moment, he rose to his feet, using his good arm to push himself up. "You have to admit, though, that 'unexpected' is becoming our norm. Have you taken a look at the rest of us? I would be hard pressed to pick the most unexpected among you."

Not even mentioning what he himself had gone through.

"That is true. Ours is a band of the most unlikely sorts, and yet here we all stand. United under one banner and one cause," Cullen noted, hand drifting to rest against the hilt of his sword as they walked, too customary a stance for him these days. Everything felt as though it were simply preparation for the next day, the next step towards Coryphius. It might be a good thing that the Inquisitor had suggested this diversion for the evening.

Doubtless the drink would help him sleep that night and numb the pain of battle, at least for a time.

He smiled and nodded. They could save toasts of 'To the Inquisition' until they had their drinks. After sitting and resting, Maxwell could walk a little easier. He was sore and did hope the drink would take the edge off.

"And it's all going to be written down. Probably by Varric."

Sitting down again was a relief, and he was pretty sure this was the only tavern in Thedas where he could drink without being disturbed.

"Now that is a truly frightening notion." He grimaced slightly, shaking his head. Knowing too well the dwarf's tendencies towards embellishment and exaggeration, he could guess how he might be painted in such a tale.

"He seems to be under the impression that I look 'too serious', and that it may be bad for my health."

Of course, compared to even the Inquisitor himself, Varric might be forgiven for thinking so. Apparently the best way to deal with the end of the world involved a great deal of snark, on the part of his companions.

Having read Varric's book on Hawke, he knew it could be worse. Reading the rest of Varric's work let him know just how bad it could be. But Varric believed in his own way, and that was comforting.

"Serious looks good on you. But it wouldn't hurt to relax every now and then." Maker knew if anyone deserved it, Cullen did. Maxwell spent so much time being serious everywhere and around everyone else to make the Inquisition look good, but Cullen rarely ever put aside his work. There was certainly enough of it to do so, even if he wasn't fighting the need for Lyrium.

"I'm not as opposed to the idea as everyone seems to think." All evidence to the contrary. Even he had to admit that he never went out of his way to worry about enjoying himself or enjoying personal time. That niggling fear that if he let his guard down, he would slip back down the slope again, rode him hard no matter how he tried to put the thought aside.

"I suppose I must come across that way to most," he agreed at last, reaching to push the door open for the Inquisitor, to allow him to enter the tavern first. "Perhaps some habits are harder to break than others."

minor injury meme.

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