WHO: Melys, Carver, Alistair WHAT: Honoring the fallen by getting hecka drunk WHEN: Nowish WHERE: Kirkwall NOTES: If your character would also participate in Ostagar Anniversary Drinking and we missed you, let me know!
A bony palm slaps onto his before there's any chance. Probably a bit harder than necessary. Melys slings a stump about Alistair's neck, and leans between them to leer.
"Guffaw? Seen one of those once, th'kind that say words, ain't they? Rivaini." She's not drunk enough yet to believe they're actually talking about parrots, but she shakes her head anyway. "Already got proper, patriotic birds here tonight."
With less venomous irony than she'd otherwise employ speaking of a Hawke (tonight's a night for unity). Melys releases Carver to rap on the table twice, before swinging a pinky at Alistair and shouting at the nearest harried server.
"He's got mine." The girl rolls her eyes on the retreat, and Melys swipes up a piece of bread, shoved unceremoniously in her mouth. "Think she likes me."
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"Guffaw? Seen one of those once, th'kind that say words, ain't they? Rivaini." She's not drunk enough yet to believe they're actually talking about parrots, but she shakes her head anyway. "Already got proper, patriotic birds here tonight."
With less venomous irony than she'd otherwise employ speaking of a Hawke (tonight's a night for unity). Melys releases Carver to rap on the table twice, before swinging a pinky at Alistair and shouting at the nearest harried server.
"He's got mine." The girl rolls her eyes on the retreat, and Melys swipes up a piece of bread, shoved unceremoniously in her mouth. "Think she likes me."
She does not.