heaven, a gateway, a hope

[byblow]

WHO: Grey Wardens & You
WHAT: A daring and not at all ragtag group of Grey Wardens has walked all the way across Orlais to inform the Inquisition--just in case it hadn't already realized on its own--that everything is terrible.
WHEN: Harvestmere 22
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: This post has: (1) A single group "we just got here, we're freezing, who is in charge, what do you mean you haven't decided yet" starter that we'd like to keep to one chronological thread. (2) Open starters for individual Wardens set later in the day/week.

OOC Note: Regarding the first starter--threadjack away! Anyone is welcome to wander onto the scene to see what's going on and wander back out at their leisure, to fall silent for a while, etc. No tagging order. But let slower taggers get a word in edgewise!

Comments

[deflocked]

"Why would you do that?" He looks completely bewildered by the idea. Which. He is. Any formality he had is now gone completely out of the window.

"You share a name with the Alistair. I mean, I know you're too old to be named after him, but all the same... if I had a name like that I wouldn't change it for anything."

[byblow]

"Ah," Alistair says.

He downs the remainder of his drink. It takes a while. Five seconds. He needs all five of those seconds to talk himself out of telling an elaborate lie about how his real name is Louis, Alistair is just a nickname, and so on.

"We could trade," he says as he lowers his tankard. "I like Daylen. Rolls right off the tongue. And then you can go around being constantly compared to a figure out of old, exaggerated stories. Everyone will want to know what so-and-so said or what such-and-such was like--but you can borrow my line and say you're sorry, but you don't recall, because at the time you had a concussion or had caught fire or something." Does he sound bitter? Maybe. But he's smiling his way through it, for whatever good that does. "It's fun. You'll love it."

[deflocked]

Oh.

Oh.

"You're him," he says quietly, with a look of awe.

Which judging by his tirade is probably not at all what he wants to hear. He's a little hurt by the outburst, and confused by how bitter he seems to be. He's a hero. That's no exaggeration. He stares into his own tankard, resisting the urge to down it as Alistair had. He remembers all too well the terror as they cowered behind Senior Enchanter Wynne's barrier. It had seemed so hopeless at the time. Pointless. The grown ups had to tried to keep it from them, but they'd known they were waiting to die. It was only a matter of whether it would be at the hands of demons and blood mages or the templars themselves. The chances of being rescued had been impossibly low, and yet they had been.

"You saved me," he tells him eventually, then pulls a face as he realises he should elaborate. "All of us. At Kinloch Hold. If it hadn't been for you and the Hero of Ferelden..."

Daylen has fantasised countless times about meeting Alistair. Every single member of the Hero's companions. It had never gone like this.

[byblow]

"Ah," Alistair says again. "Right."

He peers at Daylen for a moment, trying to place him or assess his age. He couldn't have been more than a child at the time--Alistair was barely more than a child at the time--and if his face might have been vaguely familiar without the tiny patch of facial hair, it certainly isn't now.

"Well, you're welcome." Look, he has manners. And even if Daylen didn't say thank you, that seems to be where they're headed. Best get it out of the way. "Glad to have helped. But if you want to really thank me, you'll consider that name swap. You look a lot more like an Alistair than I do."

He gestures to his own face, because gesturing at Daylen's would require putting a hand in his personal space, and he isn't quite that drunk. His circling fingers focus on his chin.

"Maybe if I grew one of those."

[deflocked]

"Do you think so?"

He regrets instantly that he genuinely asked that, even though if it wasn't such a ridiculous thing to do he'd be sorely tempted. He's a little flustered by how casual his tone is, that the Alistair talking to him as though he's never saved Thedas. Apparently that kind of reaction turns him into an idiot. He flushes, clearing his throat.

"I mean... I'm sorry, I know you were joking," he assures him, though he's not quite sure he'll be believed. "Just. You should keep the name. It's a good name. Like you are."

Maker help him. He doesn't even have the excuse of being drunk.

[byblow]

Hopefully three drinks is a good enough excuse for the way Alistair groans--quietly! he has some restraint--and drops his head down onto the bartop. Briefly! Restraint, again. He sits back up almost as soon as his forehead has thunked on the wood and instead looks at Daylen like he isn't entirely sure what to do with him.

"You've really never seen a deepstalker?" he says. What to do with him is apparently transparently change the subject. "You ought to fix that. I can point you toward some amazing dark caves."

[deflocked]

The reaction doesn't surprise him, though it doesn't help. If his face was red before then that's nothing compared to now. He's more than happy to take the change in subject. Maybe if they talk about something else he can stop embarrassing himself quite so much.

"Do I need to?" Because really, he'd rather not see a deepstalker. In any illustration he's seen they look very much like a creature that's best avoided. "I'm not really very fond of caves, and there are usually other things in there too. Aren't there?"

[byblow]

"Spiders," Alistair admits, but he doesn't relent: "But a man hasn't truly lived until he's fought off a deepstalker. I think it ought to be a--thing. Rite of passage. Every young Fereldan must retrieve the head of something creepy to be considered an adult."

He looks down into his empty tankard to confirm it is still, unfortunately, empty.

"I suppose I can give you a bit of a pass since you were stuck in that tower," he says, "and then warring, or whatever. But now that that's quieted down there's no excuse."