WHO: Felix, assorted Grey Wardens, and some concerned friends. WHAT: Felix Alexius is too cute to die. WHEN: Nowish. WHERE: Felix's room and the hallway outside it. NOTES: Broken into pieces, with starters in the comments.
Felix nods a bit, acknowledging Sabriel's words, though he already knows he'll have questions later. He almost brings up the sounds in his head now, almost asks about them, but then realizes that's probably one of the things they were trying so desperately to keep him from saying. After all, even he, in his drowsy post dream state, could figure out they were being tight lipped on purpose.
He found himself leaning a bit towards Dorian, pleased that his ploy of making fun of the South had given Dorian something to say that wouldn't embarrass him. They would have time for genuine emotion when they were alone.
He wants to come to the defense of the Wardens against Adele's accusation, to point out that it seems unfair to accuse the people who just brought him back from death of using him as an experiment. But he can't bring himself to say anything for fear of upsetting her more. "I'll be all right, Adele." He isn't sure that's entirely true in every way, but he is trying to reassure everyone present.
By the time Ellana releases Alistair, the room has gotten very crowded, like some kind of strange Warden and mage party. She weaves around people in order to reach Sabriel, whose hand she takes in a friendly clasp, murmuring her thank yous. Kaidan is someone she doesn't know, and so when she turns to him, she gives a polite nod of gratitude. After that, she backs up into a corner to let the others talk and fuss over Felix, because she feels awkward, like maybe she shouldn't be here. But she wants to see Felix for a little longer, so she stays and keeps to herself.
Adelaide's words are harsh, cold enough that it makes Sabriel want to look away. It almost reminds her of being back in the Circle; there's scalding for breaking curfew, and then there's the accusation of waiting. That Felix's life and the fact he yet lives is all a test. It isn't. "That isn't why," slips out before she can stop it, but slams her mouth shut as soon as she realises. How do you explain that without explaining everything?
It's fortunate Kaidan steps forward to take Adelaide's perceived blame; it's a reason for their delay, at least.
With the bed rapidly being overcrowded, several backs away an inch or two, but no further, and that's when Ellana reaches for her hand. Surprise flicks on and off her face, but she half smiles back to her, in assurance, until Ellana moves away again.
"It takes a few days," she says quietly, "but he will recover, be restored to strength." And then they'd make their excuses to take him out of Skyhold, perhaps to Haven, where they could talk, where he could slay a darkspawn and they weren't entirely breaking every rule. "The song will dull. The appetite won't."
Alistair feels awkward, too, like Ellana. Superfluous, because he hardly knows the man—and then sheltered, when Kaidan takes the blame for the delay. If he hadn't made it sound unavoidable, Alistair might not have allowed it. As it is his brow furrows, just a little, and he looks away from them and back to Ellana, who gets a sort of sad, sort of sheepish crook of a smile.
When they get into the song, though—Alistair glances at Adelaide when she asks, then at Kaidan while he lies, and keeps looking at him while Sabriel agrees, trying to ask for permission, ser. Whether he receives it or not, he says, "No."
Sorry.
"The song is the Old Gods calling, the way they call the darkspawn. He shouldn't hear it anymore, but I'm sure he does. Right now we all hear it. Every Warden in the South. Usually it means we're going to die soon." That's why they're acting as if they've gone insane, for future reference. But Alistair isn't divulging secrets just to protect their already-dodgy reputation. He's looking at Dorian, who's a shady Tevinter almost-magister whispered about in the hallways but, nonetheless, the closest present link to the war room and the decisions made there: "If you want to help him now, you have to help us."
He might not have been the worst king ever. He might be the worst Warden ever, on the other hand, but he learned that from Cousland. This is how they stopped the Blight. Make trades. Make it personal. Weisshaupt may not like it, but Weisshaupt isn't here. Only Kaidan. He can ground Alistair later if he wants to.
There are words and terms flying around, now, that are new to Dorian's ears, and so for the moment, he keeps his mouth shut and his focus sharp, remaining seated at Felix's side but no less a presence for it. There's barely any time to feel joy at the implied confirmation that Felix's Blight is, in fact, gone. And as for how crowded things are getting, he doesn't appear to care, not while necessary things are being said by necessary people, up to and including the thank yous via Ellana's gentler touch, something Dorian himself is simply not capable of right now.
His focus on Alistair makes a visible shift from suspicion, to an academic interest, wheels turning, and then sharpening into--
Is he impressed? Very nearly.
But his temper is evident, if held in check by Felix's presence alone. His jaw firms and something more dangerous flashes in his eyes, even when the corner of his mouth twinges upwards. He only just stops himself from glancing at Felix for confirmation. "Well, that all remains to be seen," he says, blandly, belying the hungry curiousity behind his expression. "Foremost expert in the matters of helping though you all seem to be. Isn't this quite enough Wardeny nonsense for one day?"
The look that Kaidan gives Alistair in that moment can only be described as murderous. The one thing that wasn't permitted was giving away Warden secrets, and what did he do? Give away the biggest of them all.
In the future he might think about how it wasn't so bad that people knew, but right now? All he wanted to do was take Alistair outside and thrash him. He would be right. Weisshaupt wouldn't like it at all... but it was done. It was out there. "Now you know why we've gathered here," he ground out, unimpressed at having to say the words, but they were there.
"That's what that is..." Felix says. He frowns deeply as he lets himself get distracted by the noise for a moment. "I was going to ask but..." He had been under the impression he needed to wait to be alone with them to ask questions.
He looks over at Dorian reaches for him to try to calm him. "I have many questions for these people. I think it might be best for the rest of you to leave to allow me to ask them. We can all yell at each other once I have a better idea of what's happening to me."
He looks over at Adele too, to make sure she'll go along with that idea. She has right to be upset and confused but right now he needs to focus. He also spares a look at Ellana, who he offers a small, apologetic smile. "Thank you all for your concern."
Then back to Dorian he adds, "Can you make sure my father knows what has happened? Though, perhaps, don't tell him everything." He really doesn't want to worry Alexius with talk of a Calling. "I'll come down to his cell and talk to him as soon as I can."
With the tension in the air so thick, Ellana is glad for a reason to leave and doesn't feel guilty for doing so, now that Felix appears to be well.
"Of course," she replies, returning his smile and moving from her spot in the corner. "Whenever you're able, please send me a message on the crystal." That way they can talk privately. But for now, she's heading out and not waiting for anyone in the hall. She simply goes, because she's in no mood to hear more arguing.
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He found himself leaning a bit towards Dorian, pleased that his ploy of making fun of the South had given Dorian something to say that wouldn't embarrass him. They would have time for genuine emotion when they were alone.
He wants to come to the defense of the Wardens against Adele's accusation, to point out that it seems unfair to accuse the people who just brought him back from death of using him as an experiment. But he can't bring himself to say anything for fear of upsetting her more. "I'll be all right, Adele." He isn't sure that's entirely true in every way, but he is trying to reassure everyone present.
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It's fortunate Kaidan steps forward to take Adelaide's perceived blame; it's a reason for their delay, at least.
With the bed rapidly being overcrowded, several backs away an inch or two, but no further, and that's when Ellana reaches for her hand. Surprise flicks on and off her face, but she half smiles back to her, in assurance, until Ellana moves away again.
"It takes a few days," she says quietly, "but he will recover, be restored to strength." And then they'd make their excuses to take him out of Skyhold, perhaps to Haven, where they could talk, where he could slay a darkspawn and they weren't entirely breaking every rule. "The song will dull. The appetite won't."
no subject
When they get into the song, though—Alistair glances at Adelaide when she asks, then at Kaidan while he lies, and keeps looking at him while Sabriel agrees, trying to ask for permission, ser. Whether he receives it or not, he says, "No."
Sorry.
"The song is the Old Gods calling, the way they call the darkspawn. He shouldn't hear it anymore, but I'm sure he does. Right now we all hear it. Every Warden in the South. Usually it means we're going to die soon." That's why they're acting as if they've gone insane, for future reference. But Alistair isn't divulging secrets just to protect their already-dodgy reputation. He's looking at Dorian, who's a shady Tevinter almost-magister whispered about in the hallways but, nonetheless, the closest present link to the war room and the decisions made there: "If you want to help him now, you have to help us."
He might not have been the worst king ever. He might be the worst Warden ever, on the other hand, but he learned that from Cousland. This is how they stopped the Blight. Make trades. Make it personal. Weisshaupt may not like it, but Weisshaupt isn't here. Only Kaidan. He can ground Alistair later if he wants to.
no subject
His focus on Alistair makes a visible shift from suspicion, to an academic interest, wheels turning, and then sharpening into--
Is he impressed? Very nearly.
But his temper is evident, if held in check by Felix's presence alone. His jaw firms and something more dangerous flashes in his eyes, even when the corner of his mouth twinges upwards. He only just stops himself from glancing at Felix for confirmation. "Well, that all remains to be seen," he says, blandly, belying the hungry curiousity behind his expression. "Foremost expert in the matters of helping though you all seem to be. Isn't this quite enough Wardeny nonsense for one day?"
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In the future he might think about how it wasn't so bad that people knew, but right now? All he wanted to do was take Alistair outside and thrash him. He would be right. Weisshaupt wouldn't like it at all... but it was done. It was out there. "Now you know why we've gathered here," he ground out, unimpressed at having to say the words, but they were there.
no subject
He looks over at Dorian reaches for him to try to calm him. "I have many questions for these people. I think it might be best for the rest of you to leave to allow me to ask them. We can all yell at each other once I have a better idea of what's happening to me."
He looks over at Adele too, to make sure she'll go along with that idea. She has right to be upset and confused but right now he needs to focus. He also spares a look at Ellana, who he offers a small, apologetic smile. "Thank you all for your concern."
Then back to Dorian he adds, "Can you make sure my father knows what has happened? Though, perhaps, don't tell him everything." He really doesn't want to worry Alexius with talk of a Calling. "I'll come down to his cell and talk to him as soon as I can."
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"Of course," she replies, returning his smile and moving from her spot in the corner. "Whenever you're able, please send me a message on the crystal." That way they can talk privately. But for now, she's heading out and not waiting for anyone in the hall. She simply goes, because she's in no mood to hear more arguing.