(closedish openish) keep you like an oath

[byblow]

WHO: Alistair & Others
WHAT: Some sulking, some snark.
WHEN: Third week of Haring + bonus first week of Wintermarch.
WHERE: Skyhold.
NOTES: No open starters, but if you want something PM me or hit me up on Plurk! Or drop a starter of your own on me and I'll roll with it.

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[byblow]

Alistair shakes his head silently, staring off into the distance, before her coughing and chest-pounding jolts him back into his center. He looks sideways, instead—fond, despite the topic of conversation. "No," he says. "We know how to handle Blights."

Theoretically. Alistair knows how to handle Blights, at least. Cousland, wherever he is. Loghain knows how to show up for the tail end of one and be miraculously forgiven for making the first nine-tenths of it so difficult.

He hesitates a second, then forges ahead. "We don't live long," he says. "We're connected to the darkspawn—that's what makes us what we are—and eventually the Old Gods call us, same as them, and that's the end for us. We can hear them—right now, I mean. We're all hearing them." He holds his hand out for the bottle, fingers wiggling. "So they're going to do something desperate."

[serannas]

The bottle is handed back without fuss, because it absolutely sounds like he needs it more than her. She's frowning as she processes this, and once she has, she reaches out, fingertips lightly touching his arm.

"Alistair," she murmurs, unsure what she can possibly say. The Wardens are being called like the darkspawn are? It sounds terrifying. She's no stranger to bad dreams where demons taunt her and make offers, but she refuses and shuts them out before waking up again. This sounds like there's no escape.

"It's not supposed to be like this, is it? All Wardens hearing the Old Gods call out to them?" Otherwise this desperate use of blood magic wouldn't be happening.

"What can we do? They have to be stopped. Maybe the Inquisition can save them from this idea, and help them find a better way." She refers to the Wardens as 'them,' not including Alistair because, well, he's here, isn't he? Not cutting himself open and offering his blood.

[byblow]

"I hope so. That's what we came for—for help. We tried ourselves, and Clarel chased us out. I know I haven't done much in the last decade, and the Blight was mostly..." Alistair has a personal drinking game: take a shot every time he almost has to talk about Cousland. Shots from the bottle count. "I had thought I'd earned more than armed guards. Unarmed guards, at least. Lightly armed guards, but unlegged—"

Nonsense. And he is, at most, barely beginning to get tipsy; he's a large man. So that's no excuse. Maybe that and the exhaustion.

In any case, he stops himself, and he shakes off both the worst layers of sulking and the bad jokes to sway sideways, far enough to gently knock Ellana with his shoulder, like she's the one who needs cheering up.

"Don't think too badly of them. They aren't trying to save themselves. They want to find a way to prevent the Blight from returning, in case we're dying out for good. If I believed it was really our last hope, I'd be there with them."

[serannas]

Ellana gives him a faint smile at the shoulder bump before taking his hand in hers and simply holding it. Sometimes when things are tough and you have no answers, what you need most is a hand to hold.

"I don't think badly of them," she's quick to assure him. "They sound scared. Desperate. And wanting to ensure the world is protected before they go is a noble thing, but it sound like they're jumping ahead here and taking far too drastic measures. Surely they should be trying to cure themselves, not to be selfish, but to keep Wardens around to save the world when we need it."

It occurs to her that a cure could be hard to come by simply because Wardens are full of secrets. If they refuse to open up about what's happening, then they cut off avenues that could help them.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Any research or... something?"

[byblow]

"Maybe," Alistair says, a little slowly, distracted by the handholding—still disarmed, after all this time, by other people showing him affection. He thinks about telling her about the Joining, or Avernus, or Corypheus' sealed underground prison and the reasons they couldn't kill him. The fact that they ever had him. He hasn't relayed that fun piece of trivia to the Inquisition yet at all. "I don't know what I can tell you, other than... Nothing. Less than I already have. Maker, we're in trouble."

With the Wardens, probably with Commander Cullen (who is not that scary) and Seeker Pentaghast (who is) and Leliana (who is the worst) and everyone. Or maybe not. Maybe no one. Maybe no one will care. He takes another drink.

or, actually...

[serannas]

"Don't give up hope. Not now, not ever." Her voice is firm and serious, and she tugs on his hand to try and look him in the eye. Of course, that's a bit difficult with the bottle to his lips, but she'll wait.

"You'll find a way, or we'll find a way. Just call on me, and I'll be at your side, ready to help." Alistair is her friend, and she takes friendship seriously. He and the other Wardens are suffering, but the ones here in Skyhold know better than to resort to blood magic, which just opens the door to demons and danger. The Wardens need help, and she won't turn a blind eye just because they're a secretive lot.