[Closed] The Road to Jader ...

[sunshinethroughgrey]

WHO: Bethany Darton, Aleron Darton, Carver Hawke, Fenris, Alistair, and Inessa Serra
WHAT: Looking for the Champion, high and low
WHEN: Mid-Harvestmere
WHERE: The fine Orlesian city of Jader, and small town just outside of Jader.
NOTES: Warnings for ...well. The DA2 Crew. You know how these guys are.

For weeks, Bethany Darton had been searching for some hint of her older sister's whereabouts since she had heard about the demise of the Hero of Fereldan. Her determination only mounting when Carver returned home with Dog, she remembered one of Marian's last letters, sent from a trader in Jader. She rounded up some people who were actually willing to track down Marian again, and as soon as she had returned from the Island of Red Lyrium, she gathered them all up and headed down to the docks as quickly as she could manage it, to Jader itself.

Comments

[byblow]

"I can do the accent," Alistair offers as he comes up behind them. He doesn't have a mabari, either, and if he looks enormously and unmistakably Fereldan—well. That's not his fault. His mother was Orlesian, but somehow it didn't help.

He is serious about the accent, however, and proves it by sliding into said accent for his continued rambling:

"I cannot do upper class Orlesian accents, or whatever it is the Marsh people speak, but Jader is not so difficult. It has changed hands so any times that everyone sounds like a Fereldan attempting an Orlesian accent." He catches all the way up—all the better to elbow Carver in the ribs. Not too hard. Alistair cares about Marian Hawke a great deal, and the longer they go without word of her the worse it is, but he's not her sibling. It has to be worse for them. If he can keep their chins up—or make them angry instead of sad, sure, whatever—then he will. "Try it."

shhh no one that saw. nope.

[unshadowing]

Poor Garahel. He's with you on that one, buddy. Orlesians have no taste. "It does sort of loudly proclaim 'ensemble of dog lords, coming through'. Still, we have coin, and that should be all that concerns them." At least they're not turning them away, which is something.

Alistair gets a cocked eyebrow, followed by something akin to horror in his expression as Alistair keeps talking. Maker, why. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS ALISTAIR. WHY ARE YOU SLAUGHTERING YOUR HERITAGE-

Okay but in all seriousness, he's not sure he wants to know why Alistair can wing an Orlesian accent. "Maker's breath, I'm not gonna ask anyone to have to try a bloody Orlesian accent. I'm not cruel." The elbow to the ribs is met with a congenial side-eyed look. "You don't want to hear me try it. Trust me, it's bad."

[circleprodigy]

Hearing Alistair, Inessa's lips twitch. She shakes her head, amused as she is by his talent for a Jader accent. "I...think it's safest for all that I not make an attempt, but I approve of your own attempt. Between that and the coin Carver mentioned, we might manage a little success. Either that or people will pay us to leave." That still counts for something, as long as they get answers.

[byblow]

"Cowards," Alistair accuses, still sounding born and bred in Jader—so like Riordan, which only doesn't cause a pang of sadness if he doesn't think about it. "It isn't like making a face. Your voice won't be stuck this way."

Whereas the face thing is definitely true.

"No one's ever paid me to leave," he goes on. And he does have experience. He can wing an accent because Ferelden kicked him out twelve years ago, and where was he supposed to go? Antiva? Too warm. Too assassiny. Orlais is at least somewhat less assassiny. "I'd have capitalized on that if they did. Maybe now that there are dogs involved..."

[unshadowing]

"My only attempts to sound Orlesian were mocking, and that's not about to change. I don't think I could imitate an accent without keeping my derision and patriotic dislike of the empire out of my voice." Nor do it with a straight face. It wouldn't go over well, and he'd be kicked out of the place for just trying to imitate one. And while he'd love nothing more than to not be surrounded by Orlesians, he's not leaving without answers.

He wants to make a joke about the banishment, but even that'd be shitty by Carver's standards. And Alistair is kind of his boss, so. "Clearly you haven't been trying hard enough. But the dogs will be a good touch. Just let Garahel there drool on the right people, and we'll be thrown out of here in good time." With answers, because that is a thing he needs.

[circleprodigy]

Garahel barks happily, eager to assist their cause, and Inessa strokes his head. "It's for a good cause...but it might not be needed, so let's keep that as a last resort." Less drool might get them more answers...or not, but she's willing to at least give it a chance, first.

[byblow]

"A very last resort," Alistair says, abandoning the accent for now—but he'll make a joke about banishment, if Carver won't. "If I'm thrown out of Orlais, too, I'll have to stay in the North forever, and it's so hot."

He bends sideways to pat Garahel on the shoulder.

"All right, let's try another. And be funny, Carver. Try. You might job some memories."

[unshadowing]

FINE. No drooling on the Orlesians. Carver shrugs at Garahel. "I tried."

There's a joke to be made about complaining about being stuck in a warm climate, but honestly, Carver likes the cold better, too, so he sort of sympathizes. All the same... "Oh yes, no more bon-bons and twittering people in masks for you if that happens. How will you ever survive?" Said in the drollest tone ever.

Followed by a glare at Alistair. "Oh yes. I'm sure one joke out of me and they'll think 'Oh yes, I remember this dark-haired woman that was around at whatever point who also made terrible jokes!'" He pauses. "...then again, Marian's jokes usually do stick out, if not in a good way."

[circleprodigy]

Inessa nods in sympathy for Alistair's comment about the heat, as Garahel happily accepts the petting. "And part him from those tiny cakes as well? Such needless cruelty." The only reason worth sparing anyone from banishment, of course. They're just not the same anywhere else.

She glances to Carver and shrugs. "I think the family resemblance alone might be enough, but it's your decision." Honestly, between Carver's looks and Alistair's sense of humor, maybe the combination will be enough without an attempt on his part.

[byblow]

"It's not his decision," Alistair protests, giving Inessa a look. "If it's his decision he'll decide to be a stick in the mud."

Exhibit A: refusing to do an accent. Exhibit B: the entire rest of his life, probably.

But Alistair isn't helpless. He draws himself up to his full height, which is slightly more than Carver's, thanks, and says, "As your senior officer, I order you to be funny."

(He's not serious. He wouldn't pull rank except to joke. Or to save lives, maybe—but mainly to joke.)

[unshadowing]

"...okay, I'll give you the cakes. Orlesians do know how to make them right." A bit too fancy for his tastes, but Carver appreciates them all the same. "Though how they claim that they 'taste of unbridled despair' is still beyond me."

And now Alistair is the one getting "a look" though it's half-hearted because, well, Alistair does outrank him. Even with easygoing people like Alistair, Carver always steps carefully with rank. Stroud beat that into him well and good. "Fine. Knock knock."

Oh yes. Carver is absolutely going to go that route.