[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

[arlathvhen]

She isn't sure whether to be insulted, embarrassed, or hurt, and for a moment she just stands there, hands on her hips, staring at Alistair with a scandalized expression. Then after thinking on it, she concludes that she was being weird, and sighs, dropping her hands to her side.

"Sorry, I just--" She pauses, as she tries to decide how to phrase her emotions, in a way that isn't yet more weird. "--don't want you to feel obligated." She concludes, and after a moment, reaches up to start fussing with his hair. "Or to give people the impression that Wardens are forbidden brushes or combs. I know you have them, Alistair." Diversions were Alistair's specialty, but Beleth was getting better at them.

[byblow]

"You take that back," Alistair says. He endures the fussing without trying to move away. It's hardly the worst he's endured today, what with the eyeliner. "I'm Fereldan." A beat. "And I volunteered. Not for all of it, but--the basic concept. Don't worry about me."