[Open] I don't think you're ready for this jelly

[justice_is_blond]

WHO: Alistair and Anders and YOU
WHAT: Alistair tightropes. In a dress. While singing.
WHEN: Kingsway 21st
WHERE: Camp Shady Fucker
NOTES: There will probably be some awful sap because this is Nate's birthday, you've been warned. Otherwise, no warnings anticipated.

It's not publicized, but word has a habit of getting out.

Zevran has publicized matters, and now it's time for some morale boosting. There's a low tightrope stretched between two trees with a great many chairs, stumps, and logs set up as seating options. Today is the day for someone to earn himself new boots, shirts, and a shield, and it promises to be a show.

Come on up, pull up a seat, and enjoy the entertainment.

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

He waits for the inspection to finish up before going to respond, stopping, mouth-open, at the question. The gaping look turns into a smirk, then.

"Are you kidding me? Of course I'm getting laid. I've already gotten kisses." He pauses for effect, and then tilts his head. "But that's not happening yet. Are there any of the might-bruise spots you'd like me to attend to? There's no reason to deal with needless pain when you've a healer right here."

[byblow]

Alistair wrinkles his nose, but he did ask, so he restrains himself from any further expression of distaste. He gets boots, Anders gets laid. Square deal. As for the pain--after a moment spent contemplating how many he wants to be, he leans the shoulder he landed on most often toward Anders, joint twisting to draw attention.

[justice_is_blond]

He raises an eyebrow at the nose-wrinkling - Alistair asked - but the twist has him nodding. A moment later his hands are glowing as he works through the rather straightforward task. Not as straightforward? The question he's thinking about asking. He and Alistair have a good relationship that's mostly based on not quite talking about anything. And yet...

"There aren't any... non-physical wounds, I hope." Falling off a rope in front of a crowd and having hecklers would not be easy for Anders. Having the crowd be far larger than expected meant Alistair wouldn't have been prepared for it either. Probably. Or maybe he had been. Not everyone is as prickly as Anders.

[byblow]

Alistair turns to watch Anders' hands glow, never quite finished being curious about magic no matter how many times the same spells are used and the same explanations for their workings provided.

He considers I've had worse, some anecdote about the Abbey--having all his smalls hung from a tree outside, half the boys conspiring to lie about where they were meant to meet for training--but no. It really is fine. He grins instead.

"I could have done without the commemorative art," he says, "but now the next time someone asks why I haven't done anything useful in the last ten years, I'll have proof I'm good for something."

[justice_is_blond]

Anders snorts. "And now I can claim I've contributed to the Inquisition, as I've helped provide a morale boost. Thank you for that."

He's done other things, here and there, but now he has a favorite.

"I almost got a sketch and then realized I've nowhere to put it where Lady wouldn't mysteriously get to it and eat it. She reaches fascinating heights that I'd not thought possible." In other words, Nate would probably lift the dog and feed the paper to her. Not like he'd need to; this is Nate's birthday. Anders hadn't really been tempted. "The good news is we've more funds. And we didn't even damage the thin ice. Further."

[byblow]

"True, true," Alistair says, nodding before he stoops down to begin untying his boots. He might as well. "Good outcome all around. And the only person who will have to die for it is Zevran."

He isn't going to kill Zevran. He's going to sulk at him for five minutes and then give in. But that's almost the same thing.

[justice_is_blond]

Anders snorts. "Please. And you'd raise Lucci, then, and take care of Doghren all by yourself, and sleep in the cold? Yes, you know how to get boots for him, but..."

Like he'd believe Alistair for a second, and another thought occurs to him, making him smirk.

"Besides. You'd have to win a fight with him."

[byblow]

Alistair shoots a look upward, eyebrows raised, but doesn't say anything--not to ask if Anders knows how they met, because it isn't fair to make fun of a man who was planning to die, even if that plan included significantly outnumbering his two teenaged targets and their four collected strays. And not to point out how terribly low Zevran's guard is around him these days, because he can't even jest about taking advantage. And, also, not to say that that's a terrible lot of lip to be giving a superior officer--which would be a joke. He doesn't care. But it's a door to further insult that he knows better than to open while wearing a dress and make-up.

Just the look, then, equal parts challenging and entertained, before he refocuses on the laces.

"Leliana would help with Lucci," he says, not to mention Mia, "and I love the cold. So you'd best say your good-byes while you can."

[justice_is_blond]

He raises an eyebrow back, still amused. He's heard of how they met... but he's heard it from Jonas, a grand tale of how Jonas was masterful and impressive and basically took everyone down by himself, something that got a little amended when Oghren complained and gained the Dwarf a co-starring role. Anders didn't put a lot of stock in it.

"You love the cold." After he repeats it, disbelieving, he wonders if that might be true. Alistair is Fereldan. He might like the cold. "Fereldans. Why do I always wind up around so many of you? Nobody should like the cold. It's cold."

Far better to pick something safe to tease about.