closedish.

[byblow]

WHO: Alistair, Kostos, Jehan, or Théo + Other People
WHAT: Catchall
WHEN: Guardian 9:44
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Closed in that there are no open prompts but feel free to spring something on me or hmu if you want a thing.

Comments

[byblow]

Alistair has responses for Beleth and for Teren—I'm fine and Teren respectively—but those are both lost and possibly forgotten forever when Nathaniel tickles him like he's nine. He was probably nine the last time anyone legitimately tried that.

If anything he goes more limp, other than squirming to trying to get away from it.

"Andraste's sword, Howe," he says. "Get off. I'm leaving."

[arlathvhen]

What the fuck.

"Senior Warden Nathaniel Howe," She draws it out, hoping that both the reminder of his status, and the fact that a near stranger is staring incredulously at him will remove his hands from Alistair. "I don't think that is behavior becoming of a Warden."

Then to Alistair, because unbecoming behavior is allowed when she likes you, "Where are you leaving, exactly? The infirmary?"

[byblow]

"The Gallows."

He's aware that he must look ridiculous. But he doesn't feel ridiculous. He feels like he's made of hollowed-out metal and like he's being very reasonable, for a hollow metal man who is probably going to die.

"I'm not dying here," he adds, because maybe if everyone else understands how reasonable this is they'll leave him alone. "I'm not dying of this. I'm a Warden."

Not one of them. He got out. And if he's going to die, he plans to do it in the Deep Roads.

[pinprick]

Beleth can disapprove all she wants. Nate will use whatever tool is at his disposal. This one just didn't work. He casts an unfazed look at Beleth before ignoring her completely.

"You're not dying," he says plainly to Alistair. "You're coming back with us and getting some rest. Or if you're tired of resting, I'll give you work to do. Whatever you need to get through this. But you have to stay."

[byblow]

Alistair is not quite childish enough to tell Nathaniel that he doesn't get to tell Alistair what he has to do, whether he can work, or whether he is or is not dying, but the glare he aims up at him conveys the general sentiment. He has half an hour before his hands start shaking, maybe two before he has to take more lyrium, and he would really like to not be here anymore.

[doneisdone]

Although really Teren has no authority over any of them, she's more than happy to tell people what to do. Especially when it involves shoving something, usually their own head, up their ass.
Having stood there for a moment with her arms folded and her expression sour, she steps authoritatively forward and crouches in front of Alistair, then leans forward to whisper something in his ear.