When life gives you melons, you might be dyslexic.

Cullen let out a chuckle, a sound of amusement echoing through the room, in response to the humorous comment about Sebastian dealing with the Chantry Advisor. The mere thought of it brought back memories, reminding him of one of the aspects he had found quite unappealing about his tenure as a Templar. It wasn't that he carried any particular disdain or prejudice against those associated with the Chantry. On the contrary, Cullen himself was a follower of the Andrastian faith. However, he had to admit that he had lapsed in his religious practices over time, becoming somewhat detached from the core tenants he once held so dear.

I don’t think I’ve ever known a chantry member who didn’t love to hear themselves talk. He commented. Cullen wasn’t sure he envied rulers and all the people they were forced to put up with for the sake of their people. It had been a big enough job being Arl, and he was really only Arl because his wife Lana was made Arlessa. As Aoife poked a bit about why he looked so bleak, his his chuckle ended and a shadow passed over his face. Where did he begin?

No, no one’s died. It’s just, I’m not sure where to begin. He paused, how long had he and Lana been separated, two years? Three? All he knew was that it had been months upon months of trying to act like nothing was wrong while they faced the blight together, all while their marriage crumbled out from under him. Now on top of all that, since moving to Denerim with the end of the Sixth Blight, it had made him realise just how much he missed having Anders around.

Things aren’t good with me and Lana, we’ve been separated for awhile now. Just tried to put on a good face while we dealt with the blight. Now that the blight’s over, I’m advising for King Byron in Denerim, hence my trip here, but it’s been hard being away from everyone, even if Lana and I really needed the space. He explained.