(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.

Comments

[fleurdesel]

"How terribly specific." He'd get there eventually- he usually does whether she wants him to or not. For the moment she focuses on that trickle of blood and the depth of the cut, pouring her power into it in slow, warm pulses.

Flesh and skin knit back together little by little, an impeccably precise line that'll heal in a barely there scar- if that. Much as she doesn't care for him work is work. They can poke and snipe and glower at one another till they're blue in the face but she'll still tend to him with all the care she gives anyone else.

"Perhaps because I do not like you, stable boy. Not even a little." Maybe a little. In her own way- he is someone to poke at that pokes back. "It was simply more difficult to hide my distaste."

[byblow]

"I was actually a stable boy, you know," Alistair says, watching his skin rearrange. It's interesting. Weird, always, but interesting. "I'm not ashamed of it. You'll have to try a little harder than that to find something that a bunch of half-wit nobles' sons didn't call me when I was ten—ow." That would be the nerves repairing themselves. He squirms but mostly (mostly) manages to keep his arm still. "But you seem pretty smart. I believe in you."

[fleurdesel]

"Do not twitch-" She mutters, pinching his elbow with one hand. "Keep still or it will mend improperly."

Of course he's a squirmer. How a man his size and age acts like such a child- she'll never know. "I use small words around you for a reason. Anything more elaborate will go right over your head."

[byblow]

"I've heard that one, too," Alistair says. "Probably as many times as you've heard condescending and—" He doesn't say ow again, but there's a pause while he thinks it and holds very carefully and perfectly still, as told. "—imperious."

[fleurdesel]

"Clearly you've kept sensible company." Her eyes narrow, the glow intensifying in her eyes and on her skin. "Exacting. Precise. Impossible, on more than one occasion. How dare I hold people to a higher standard than the rest of the world."