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

[ombranera]

And there it is, the flushing and sputtering he had long missed in their time apart. Letters simply don't do the expression justice. He can dine happily now. "You'll not consider it an honor for long, sweet Sabriel, trust me. No one who meets me in person ever does. A pleasure, now..."

Does it count as leaving her alone if all he does is speak? He isn't even leering, too busy filling his plate with little slivers of roast whatever it is and dried fruits. Then again his voice can be considered as good as a hand in some instances- but he swears it's keeping from the collar up. For now.

"You know, after the blight? I offered myself to Alistair as the Warden's new mascot. I think it'd be more charming than a griffon, wouldn't you say?" He knocks his foot against Alistair's under the table- eat, boy. Lest you wither away to nothing before you have your fill of those tiny sausages he paid so much for you to have. "He always did have a stomach of iron. Do you recall when we wagered he could not eat- I think it was the leg of one of those massive spiders in the deep roads- and keep it down? Not only was he able to do so- he asked for seconds. This is what comes of too much ale and roast nug."

[paperwing]

With the rest of the small gathering seated, Sabriel finally seats herself, as far away from Zevran as is possible (which isn't very far, given that the table isn't that long). What with the talk of Oghren as well, she's coming to the conclusion that Alistair had a very strange group of companions during the Fifth Blight and her mental image of the band of heroes might have been destroyed... ever so slightly.

"You were kind enough to invite us down here for dinner," she says, reaching for some bread, because this entire spread is so... Ferelden. Not that she minds, and would never complain about its simplicity and it's one hundred times better than whatever they could find in the Frostbacks, but still. Another reason to miss Nevarra. She does sound sincere, though - whether she's reminding herself or thanking him is another matter.

Probably herself, as the chewing of bread ceases at the mention of Alistair eating spiders. Now she's just looking at him. And Zevran, because is that a joke? Is he joking?

"Is that true?"