(closed) the coldest story ever told

[byblow]

WHO: Zevran Arainai, Maxwell Trevean, Pel Ashara, Salem Ghilan, Alistair
WHAT: A Dalish mage Ron Swanson, a Dalish warrior who throws eggs, an Antivan assassin and his many knives, a Warden who's probably technically exiled, and one single actual human nobleman on whom we are hanging all of our hopes and dreams try to make a dude stop being a big meanie.
WHEN: Haring 5-?
WHERE: Northern Ferelden
NOTES: Plotting post!

Comments

[mythalenaste]

"I know you're not an entertainer."

It's not an accusation, just updating Zevran on her information. She plops down to sit beside him while they take a midday meal break.

[ombranera]

"Oh?" He quirks a brow, hands busy sharpening one of his multitude of daggers. "What am I, then?"

[mythalenaste]

"A former Antivan crow who helped save the world. It's what stories say. Which. Stories say a lot of things."

[ombranera]

"And a former Antivan Crow cannot be an entertainer as well?"

[mythalenaste]

"You planning to juggle those daggers?"

[ombranera]

"If it would please you." The whetstone vanishes and suddenly he has three more daggers waiting in between his fingers, held loosely for aforementioned juggling.

[mythalenaste]

She flinches slightly, smile still on, and raises a hand to stop him.

"Not so close to my eyes, thanks. I'm not saying you lied. I'm just saying I didn't know it was you and now I feel like a fool."

[ombranera]

"Please do not feel foolish for my mischief. I have too long made a habit of perhaps not trumpeting my achievements for the sake of keeping things simple, yes?" The daggers flick back into- well. Wherever it is he keeps them.

[mythalenaste]

"You and Alistair both. I thought he must be a different Warden Alistair for weeks before I knew any better."

[ombranera]

"Probably for the best- he does not much like being reminded of it either." Unless it earned him cheese.

[mythalenaste]

"Was it a hard time for h--you both?"

[ombranera]

"The world was ending and we had but a band of misfits and ancient contracts with which to save it. Hard, I think, would be something of an understatement." He ignores the slip for the moment.

[mythalenaste]

"I didn't expect it to be easy. But there must be reasons you don't want to remember it. I won't pry for them. I just...hope you're all right."

[ombranera]

"...Why would I not be alright? Stella, it was a decade ago. Your concern is terribly kind and I must say that I am touched- but you do not need to worry over me."

[mythalenaste]

"I'm..."

Pel looks somewhat uncomfortable because she's doing the thing she didn't want to do. She's prying. Maybe. What counts as prying? Prying is for voyeurs. Asking out of concern isn't the same, is it?

"I meant...Alistair isn't sleeping well. If he sleeps at all. Can you help?"

[ombranera]

"Ah- that." His smile dims a touch, ear tips drooping a fraction before the usual smile is back in place. "That is something exclusive to Wardens. There is some strangeness that is at work that troubles all of them. Sabriel, as well, is not sleeping much at all."

[mythalenaste]

Sabriel sits on the Council. But Pel isn't close to her. She's worried about Alistair. Sweet, gently jesting, spirited Alistair, who offers to help her carry even little things up the stairs and who understands what it's like never to have a family.

"Nothing can be done?"

[ombranera]

"I've a few methods that worked well enough ten years ago- but where I am going to find a goat, that much hot oil, and a wheel of cheese I don't know. Hmm."

[mythalenaste]

"I'm serious."

[ombranera]

"So am I! He wore himself out so much by chasing the goat that he slept without so much as snoring until well past mid morning." It'd been utterly ridiculous, but it had worked.

[mythalenaste]

Okay, that's actually really funny. It gets a smile out of her.

"An elfroot tea didn't work?"

[ombranera]

"We started with the teas and sleeping draughts in the beginning. Nothing is worse than a cranky, sleep deprived warden. Especially if you are lost in the Deep Roads. After awhile we needed to become more creative." It'd been a group effort, to be certain.

[mythalenaste]

A low chuckle. "So you oiled a goat and, what, put a cheese on it for him to chase around?"

[ombranera]

"Put the cheese in a burlap sack where I'd bound sweet grass in the knot- something goats love to eat, and let it wander off." It'd been hilarious.

[mythalenaste]

"You and Cyril would be quite the pair. Might get Merrick to cheer up with a stunt like that."