(open) for all we know it's just a lie

[byblow]

WHO: Alistair + You
WHAT: Sleep deprivation and a long ride.
WHEN: Both vaguely before and vaguely after today.
WHERE: Skyhold (before today), the road to the Fallow Mire (after after).
NOTES: Vague starterish things because I don't like doing the same thing multiple times! If they're too vague and you want something more specific you can leave me a blank comment or something, it's cool.

I. AN INCOMPLETE LIST OF PLACES ALISTAIR FALLS ASLEEP IN SKYHOLD

1. In the stables with the dogs, usually. He only sleeps for three or four hours at a stretch, lightly and fitfully, but he never wakes up screaming. At worst he wakes up gasping and sweating, with concerned, wet muzzles nudging at his face. More often he times things well enough that he's woken in the still-dark hours of the morning by heavy boots or banging wooden doors, instead, and is already on his feet before anyone can reach him.

2. Draped over a table in the tavern still holding the handle of a tankard. He might look like a drunkard from a distance, but really, it's still three-quarters full.

3. Draped over a table in the kitchens with his arm curled protectively around a bowl of porridge or stew or whatever else the kitchen servants were willing to give him at the given hour.

4. Draped over a table in the dusty, cobwebby cellar library, with his arms folded on top of a book he couldn't force himself to stay awake for for very long even if the fate of the Grey Wardens and/or possibly all of Thedas is hanging in the balance.

5. Standing up and leaning against the back of a horse that doesn't belong to him, brush still in hand, until it steps away to search for something more interesting or edible and he falls right over.


II. AN EVEN LESS COMPLETE LIST OF THINGS HE FINDS ON THE WAY TO THE MIRE

1. Money. That's one good thing about wars and demons: there's more coin on the bodies than when roadside homicides are mostly the work of highway robbers. Alistair is a practiced looter, but a gentle, respectful one, too. If it were possible to close their eyes once they'd gone this stiff, he would.

2. A set of Ferelden figurines, mostly soldiers, half trampled by horses. He doesn't pocket them; he's not a child. But he takes the time to move the ones that aren't broken yet to the side of the road for someone else to find.

3. A temporary Inquisition camp full of travelers headed in the opposite direction. He doesn't consider himself one of them--he's a Warden, he's only visiting--but he hasn't found so much money on corpses that he won't borrow their fire or eat their spare food, if someone offers.

4. A Grey Warden, and not any of the Grey Wardens he was on his way to find. He recognizes the armor at a distance on the road, even in the cloudy half-dark. The sight makes his heart stop in the curious, still, emptied-out way it always does in the seconds before a fight begins. But the moment passes, and he keeps moving forward. Maybe he won't be recognizable, he thinks, now he's traded his griffon-and-blue armor for something simpler from Inquisition stores--

Or maybe it will be someone he's met before. Never mind. He raises a hand instead of his sword. The wave is a little sheepish.

Comments

Skyhold Tavern

[easternseaqueen]

[The bar's most entrenched resident notices him, and nudges him.]

Well. Something's clearly gotten to you. Even you're not this bad at holding your liquor.

[byblow]

What?

[ That part's mumbled into his arm, maybe insensible, but a second later he lifts his head to blink at her. ]

What do you mean, even me?

II. 3.

[serannas]

The weary travelers coming out of the Mire have settled in for the night and set up camp, leaving them all to mill around as dinner cooks over the several fires spaced out around the place. Pretty much everyone is in better spirits now that they're out of that gloomy land, and Ellana carries a half full bottle of wine out of her tent, intent on sharing it in celebration. What she doesn't expect is to see Alistair seated by the nearest fire.

She remembers their last talk and his questions about the ancient runes that at the time, she had yet to see in person. Ellana can tell him about them now. As well as just catch up.

"Alistair," she greets with a smile. "What are you doing here?" Her voice is curious as she comes to sit beside him so she can poke at the fire with a stick.

[byblow]

He's leaning back on the hands, and he leans back further to grin up at her until she sits down. "All of my friends--" All two of them, unless the young recruits count now, in which case he has five now. So popular. "--went to the Mire without me. I got so lonely."

It's not a lie. It's also not quite the truth. The longer he thought about it, the more worried Alistair was about the other Wardens. He might not be able to do anything about it, if they're caught here, but he'll at least go down fighting with them instead of hearing about it afterwards from the safety of Skyhold. It's the least he can do.

Anyway, he hasn't stayed put for more than a few weeks at a time in years. Ten years. It was beginning to feel odd.

"Don't tell me you've done everything to do and found everything to find. I don't care. I'm going anyway."

II. 2

[salvatore_underfoot]

That's a curious thing to do. Salvatore is on his way back to Skyhold, but scouting ahead of his group, when he comes upon the man leaving figurines on the side of the road. "Couldn't you trade them, or sell them?"

[byblow]

"Sell them? Someone might come back for them," Alistair says without looking up. He'd looked up before, long enough to decide he wasn't going to get stabbed; by the time the newcomer starts talking, he's back to carefully lining up the figurines, sounding mildly scandalized--sell them, honestly, in his day they sold pelts and silver bowls, and things like this were for gift-giving. "A kid might be missing them. I used to play with some like these."

Slotting the last one into formation, he dusts his hands on his knees and smiles.

"If you're hungry, I won't stop you taking them."

II. 1

[fleurdesel]

"I suppose it must go somewhere as they've no use for it any longer." Coming up on someone looting the dead is no longer so strange a thing for her to see on the road. That it is this particular individual doing the looting, well. Part of her wishes to judge him thoroughly. The rest is simply too weary to bother. Another man, another purse, another body. Coin must go somewhere, better someone that will likely spend it doing some kind of good. Though honestly, with this man, that was somewhat debatable.

[byblow]

"If somewhere is straight into ale and cheese sandwiches," Alistair says without raising his head. He sounds simultaneously upbeat and bored, as if telling Morrigan he'd have inevitably killed the grand cleric and run around in his small clothes if he'd stayed with the Templars. There are people whose expectations he cares about exceeding, and then there are people who can go die please--and then there are people who it's actually a bit fun to let hate him.

What he doesn't sound is startled. He wouldn't be worth much to anyone if he couldn't see someone coming who wasn't even trying to hide. When he does look up, it's to smile. Smirk. Smirk is more accurate.

"There's another one past that rock there, if you're in the market, but it's--mm. Further along."

I. 1. Because that's where he was told he'd be.

[slipshot]

He had a fairly good idea of where to find Alistair. Stables, dogs. It was a very specific sleeping place, all things considered. So Gavin made his way to the stables in the early morning - well before he, Bruce and Zevran were due to leave for the Mire. He opened the door as quietly at he could, but as soon as he did one of the dogs leapt up and ran to the door, tail wagging fast and hard.

Gavin couldn't help a bemused smile as he leaned down to greet the dog, kneeling before it and letting it smell him before giving it a good rough rub on its back.

"Hey to you, too," He murmured quietly to the dog. "I'm looking for a man called Alistair. You wouldn't know where I could find him, do you?"

[byblow]

While the elf is talking to the dog, Alistair is picking hay out of his hair and idly checking for weapons, out of habit rather than suspicion. Even if they weren't in a heavily-guarded fortress that none of the people who might want to kill Alistair (today) should know how to find yet, the dog likes him. That's a good sign.

But then there's his name. He checks again, less idly, but still not very concerned. His sword is propped against the wall. The horse master is within shouting distance. The elf looks--well. Particularly harmless, around the face, whether he's armed or not.

Still: "Why?" Alistair asks, a little drawn out and teasing--whhyyy?--with his eyebrow arched. Maybe--probably--that's an answer in itself, but he isn't really trying to be sneaky. He's no good at sneaky.

I. 5

[mythalenaste]

Oh, bother.

Pel is quickly at Alistair's side, having been seated on a bucket by the halla, spinning quietly, just out of sight. Hearing someone who had previously been breathing and shifting, then a thud, has her dropping everything. First, she confirms that he is breathing, then checks to see if she can wake him by patting his cheek and murmuring his name.

[byblow]

"I'm awake," Alistair says. He thinks he says it very clearly, but it might sound more like mwake, and it's another second and a half before he musters up the will to open his eyes and squint blearily at Pel. "I'm fine." That's clearer. "Ground looked comfortable."

One of his boots is smashed sideways into horse shit, but the boot's seen worse. So has he.

I. 3.

[gatheringstorm]

After a bout of training, Korrin's worked up something of an appetite. It's largely been absent in the Mire, either because of the poor quality or the way nothing's ever dry, but now it returns full-force. She has to take advantage of it while she can, right?

So she heads into the kitchen, intent on grabbing whatever's available, only to find Alistair draped over a bowl of...something. The Grey Warden isn't unknown to her, of course, and thanks to Sabriel and Zevran, she's been curious about him. But that's not the motivation behind her (gently) shaking his shoulder.

"Hey, wake up before you end up wearing that."

[byblow]

"Nno," Alistair says first. He isn't quite talking to her, and he isn't quite awake. That happens a second later: he jerks upright, palms falling flat on the table. Ready to fight, for a moment, but the moment passes when he remembers where he is.

He blinks a couple times. The words sink in. He frowns down at his bowl of stew, then smiles up at the qunari. It's a sleepy smile, and a hopeful one. Maybe he can talk his way out of feeling foolish.

"You don't think I could pull it off? I think I'd look dashing."

Covered in stew. Right.

"And delicious."

I. 4.

[wickedchase]

Most mages go to the library in search of further studies, to educate themselves and expand their knowledge.

Frankly, Fate came to read one of the novels here. A Sonnet Concerning Frost and Flame seemed interesting enough, even if it's drowning in political lore he's barely paying heed to.

Probably better than whatever Alistair was reading, evidently, considering he's conked out.

The elf approaches and places a hand on the Warden's shoulder. "Couldn't have been that interesting of a read," he says, halfway teasing.

[byblow]

The hand makes him flinch awake immediately, but he's slower to sit up, blinking first at the elf (cursory are you here to kill me check), then at the book.

"I can't tell," he says around a yawn. "I'm told there's such a thing as an interesting read, but I think--" Another yawn. He shakes his head to try to wake up more. "--books have all been ruined for me, forever. Can't look at one without feeling like I'm back at the monastery trying not to get my knuckles rapped."

II. 4. Oh look. Who could that be?

[foodsofmypeople]

Kaidan was getting no answers on his travels, and frankly it was getting frustrating. Something had gone wrong, and he couldn't figure it out - and there was nothing worse than not being able to figure it out.

He wasn't even sure what had brought him to the Mire, beyond a need to investigate certain rumours about his brethren in the South. The Mire was just incidental.

He had been lost in thought, until he caught sight of the man walking towards him. His hand automatically went to rest on the staff on his back, until he saw first the somewhat sheepish wave, then just who it was. Someone he hadn't seen for some time. "Warden Alistair," he called out as he approached. "It has been some time."

[byblow]

"Yes," Alistair agrees, "some time, quite, it has been--"

It is even more obvious that he's rambling nervously when he's having to half-shout it down the road. He stops. Kaidan isn't reaching for his staff, so he doesn't reach for his sword or shield, and when they're closer he tries again.

"You're very far south."

I. 5.

[the_effect_she_has]

Katniss had to admit, every single time she left her little space in the tower (soon to be her little cottage in the courtyard), she found something new. Usually something weird, but always interesting. For example, when she went down to clean and muck out Haymitch's stall, and found a tall man with reddish blonde hair hugging Haymitch's back-end and snoring loudly.

She tilted her head, just staring at the man why Haymitch moved forward to grab the apple out of her hand and - yes, there went down the man. Luckily, he had cleaned out the stall already, so he went face down into hay instead of ...something else.

Katniss clicked her tongue, and then went to go shake the man by his shoulder, "Hey. Hey. Wake Up. If you're doing something inappropriate to my horse, I want to know so I can kick your lanky ass straight across the courtyard."

[byblow]

"Ow, hey," Alistair says, face-down in the hay and not actually hurt at all. He curls his shoulders away from the shaking and wraps one arm around the hay beneath his head, gathering it in like a pillow. Now that he's down here, it's sort of nice, aside from the shaking and scolding. "Nothing inappropriate. Brushing."

He flops the other arm out to point toward the brush he dropped when he fell. Proof.

I. 5

[disgracedchampion]

Or might have fallen if Michel wasn't such an avid admirer of horses, truth be told he was still pining over the loss of his dear Cheritenne well over a year after the loss of his much beloved war horse. So it would be remiss of him not to admire such a horse if it wished to grace him with it's presence...unless said horse happened to be attached to to another creature, a person. And that person just happened to be dozing.

If he had to choose between trailing the horse or catching the man, no matter how derelict sleeping standing up against a horse was, he was honor bound to do something if he could. Of course catching Alistair before he could smack his head off the ground was the only thing he could do and he was fortunate that the Chevalier's reflexes were very sharp.

Unable to stop him from falling at least part of the way, Michel did catch him before he fell face first into the mud, "now seems like the most inopportune of moments to be drifting into the land of the Nod, monsieur."

[byblow]

It's not the worst awakening Alistair has ever had. If he were slightly more awake he might press a hand to his forehead and pretend to have swooned. But he's still half asleep, hanging awkwardly in the man's arms, and instead his first instinct is to scrunch his face up a bit in annoyance at--everything.

"Noted," he says.

To stand up properly, he has to balance on the man's shoulders, unfortunately. It isn't very manly. He rubs his face with one hand to clear his head, then gives the man a squinty, evaluating look.

"That was very smooth."

Stables (take your pick of sleeping places)

[nofury]

The spirit horse had done her in. She'd thought to stay in the mire until the job was done, no stranger to uncomfortable living conditions. But after a run through the mire chasing after an elf clinging for her life on the back of an undead, spirit ridden monstrosity she had admitted she could use a break. And a bath.

But there were still duties to be done. Before the bone tired templar can see about her own comfort, her current (Marker be praised, living) horse needs to be brushed down and fed. There was no need to go waking people at this hour when she's hardly unable to see to it herself...

Soon. Surely the horse will understand if she just takes a quick breath. Maria's armor clangs loudly as her back hits the wall of a nearby stall and she slides down into a seated position. Just a few minutes. While she was here on her own.

[byblow]

He was already awake, kind of. Sort of. Awake enough that the sound of armor clanging against a wall doesn't startle him, only earns a mental maybe it's morning then, and by the time he realizes it isn't, in fact, morning, and the sky outside the stables doesn't have even a little bit of a glow, he's already looking over the edge of a half-wall and down at the top of Maria's head.

"Knight Hill," he says, "you're going to get a crick."

I. 3

[eolasemah]

Although no motion was made to awaken him, Alistair would come to with a blanket over his shoulders and a mug in front of him, which contained a small paper packet of herbs for an aromatic and relaxing tea. Written on the packet was "stay warm!"

[byblow]

AND HOW FREAKING CUTE WAS THAT