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

i just literally imagined a cutscene just for the +5 to happen on screen

[amygdalae]

[Bruce lets out a small laugh.] I think we've all had enough popularity going on for a while.

[Especially if this popularity brings dragons and darkspawn to their doorstep. They certainly could do with less of that.]

necessary tbh

[byblow]

Give it ten years and you'll wish you could have it back.

[ Or: no, you won't. Alistair wouldn't really wish for a return of the Blight or any of its destruction, and he wishes people would stop asking him about Cousland and archdemon-battles altogether. But for the Order's sake, if not his own, he'd like it if people had slightly longer memories. Maybe fifteen years before the resentment and name-calling resumed. ]

faderift: the rp of imaginary da cutscenes

[amygdalae]

I'm not one for being famous myself, personally.

[Because in a way he already is, and Bruce would very much rather not. He very much prefers sticking below and be unknown to everyone else. And of course, everyone is kind of done with Blights and demons and all that fun stuff, especially after this.]

[byblow]

Oh, but it's wonderful. There's nothing better than that moment of regret and resentment on someone's face when they truly realize you're not what they expected.

[ That's sarcasm. For the record. ]

What was your name? I'll ask that bard to write a song about you.

[amygdalae]

[Despite himself Bruce lets out a small little snort at the words, in a way kind of understanding where the other is getting at. Even if Bruce's own brand of 'famous' is more of 'infamous'.]

I, ah--Bruce. [He gives a pause.] And you need to do that on my account.

[He's perfectly fine not needing to have anybody write songs about him.]

[byblow]

I bet more things rhyme with Bruce than with Alistair.

[ Of course he doesn't need to. He wants to. He ignores that part. ]

Spruce. Truce. Loose. You'll be immortalized in verse by the end of the week.

[amygdalae]

I'm not too sure how I'll feel about being rhymed with 'loose'.

[Because a loose man he is not. He is also not any of the other words that has just been said.]

But there's nothing about me being worth immortalized in verse. I'm perfectly fine in not being known through a bard's song.