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

[byblow]

"Not too sharp," Alistair says. "Or--blunt."

This is not going well for him.

"It's soft," he decides on after a moment. "I guess most elven names are. But it suits you." Sort of. Maybe. He hardly knows her. But her hair is nice.

Maker.

"I'm sorry. I'm very tired."

[mythalenaste]

Soft? Pel has hardly ever felt soft. She always wanted to be soft and pretty, like Ellana, but there was never time for it as Keeper's First. Sharp and blunt have been her tools for a long time, but certain types of people seem to bring out something else. Alistair is that type of person. Alistair babbles, and Pel has always been exceptionally comforted by people who babble. Not chatter--that's talking without having anything to say. Babble is more nervous. It means he respects her enough to care what she thinks of him, but has so much personality that it bubbles out regardless. It also makes someone unlikely to lie.

She smiles at him.

"What does Alistair mean?"

[byblow]

"Fun and unlucky," Alistair says. "Prophetic, really."

He's lying, and not well, but that's what she gets for encouraging him. (Smiling counts as encouragement.) He relents without prompting, though. That might be as grown-up as he'll ever get: following up his jokes and sarcasm with real answers without making anyone pry them out of him first.

"I don't know. I don't think anyone picked it for its meaning. Closed their eyes and pointed at a page in a book, more likely." Who even named him? Maric? Eamon? He hopes it was Eamon. "Does yours mean something?"

[mythalenaste]

She shakes her head. "I think it's just a sound they liked. They named my brother Kim, it doesn't mean anything either. They don't really even sound elven, the consonants are too hard. I never managed to ask them where they got them."

[byblow]

Alistair nods and thinks about keeping his mouth shut--not permanently, of course, but on this particular topic, given what happened before. He isn't incapable of keeping his foot out of his mouth when he puts effort into it. And if in this case he does decide to open his mouth, it is, at least, coming after a sobering pause, subdued instead of flippant.

"Is it too late?"

[mythalenaste]

"They're alive, if that's what you're asking."

She doesn't usually talk about her family, but Alistair is...bolstering, somehow. Like he's not going to judge her for whatever she says.

"I...my magic manifested when I was still toddling around in skirts. I could barely speak, let alone-- There were already three mages in my clan, and having too many mages makes it easier for the templars to find us. I was sent to Clan Ashara. I only know my family from seeing them at the Arlathvhen once every ten years, and it's...awkward."

And excruciating.

"Anyway, I don't really know them. Most of our conversations have them asking me the questions, instead of the other way 'round."

[byblow]

"It's good that they're interested, at least," Alistair says. For the record, there's nothing bitter in his tone. He isn't thinking about himself, and he certainly isn't jealous. Dalish life looks hard even under the best circumstances. Never mind being an apostate and foster child (of a sort) as well. He's quiet for another sober beat before he brightens--looking a bit preemptively pleased with himself, already ruining whatever slim chance of being taken seriously that he may have he had. "I was raised by dogs," he confides. "Now they're only glad to see me when I bring them treats."

[mythalenaste]

A faint smile. Barely a smile. More an acknowledgement that he's making light.

"I'm sorry. I hear I'm too serious all the time."

[byblow]

"What? No, you're--"

Very serious, yes, but that's fine.

"You're fine. I have terrible manners, that's all. Because of the dogs. You should see me eat, I'm--" He's doing it again. He catches himself this time, tamps down on his own smile, and offers, "I never met my parents, actually, and when the man who raised me sent me to the Chantry I was so sullen about it that he gave up on visiting." He doesn't quite have the self-awareness to explain that it's himself he's trying to keep upbeat, not her, but there it is. "If my father had ever come around, it probably would've been worse. Awkward." Like she said. He was listening. "I can't even imagine."

[mythalenaste]

But she smiles at his aborted joke, a merry gleam coming to her eye. The smile wanes as he talks about his own not-family. A moment after he finishes speaking, she looks at her hands.

"Thank you for telling me that," she says softly. "My clan has a lot of orphans, but I'm not one. I never knew anyone else who just...never had a family."

[byblow]

"I like to think I'm better off. I met my half siblings once or twice apiece, but they had their own lives." That's one way to put it. "If any of them had wanted to have me around but not been able to, that probably would have hurt--" Not more. It hurt quite a lot at the time. And of course it still hurts now, if he's being honest with himself, but he tries not to do that when when honesty is too depressing. "--longer."

He tries to imagine seeing Goldanna every ten years. His imagination is entirely blank. Maybe he should write her or something, if he's dying soon.

"But I do have a couple of people who kindly don't correct me if I say they're my uncles. And the dogs, of course," he says, bracing, and shifts focus. "It's a shame it's not safer for your clans to interact more. Are you one of the Dalish who came with a group?"

[mythalenaste]

"Clan Ashara. I'd be surprised if my cousin hasn't flirted with you yet. Shaggy white hair and a cocky smile? That's him."

[byblow]

"Mm, haven't had the pleasure," Alistair says, sounding more polite than disappointed. Zevran provided all the shameless flirting he needed for one day. "I only arrived today. I did meet an Ellana earlier."

[mythalenaste]

If he has Ellana to compare her to, Pel doesn't stand a chance. She looks briefly glum.

"She's from my clan. A good girl."