heroica | (no subject)

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" greetings. this is warden cousland. please leave your message and i'll reply as quickly as i can. if there's an emergency, leave your location as well. "

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[Getting almost bowled over and then drooled on by an enthusiastic mabari must be enough payback for not following through on his promise sooner. Although, this might mean from now on Oren is always going to expect treats and Alistair has just doomed himself to being drooled on forever... He can handle that.

Scrubbing his hand off on his trousers he grabs another treat, tossing it off towards the other side of the room as a distraction so he can hide the rest of them safely away. He might need bribes later.

That done he turns back to Robyn, slightly surprised and pleased by her eagerness. It doesn't seem like just an interest in the legends of the previous Blights. Being a Warden means something to her. As it should, but he's learned not to take that for granted.]

Sure, if you want. It's all just what the others told me - about the relics and the fortress but I can tell you what I remember. No promises it's all true. They might have been leading me on a bit.

[He'd been an easy mark for them to make fun of - all in good spirits. Much like the two of them have become.]

So long as you're not too disappointed if the reality doesn't live up my story-telling when the leader of Ferelden's Wardens is summoned there. Your Most Heroic Fereldeness.

[ As Alistair planned, the dog bounds away after the second treat, nearly careening into the wall in the process. Robyn watches with great amusement, laughing at the hound, shaking her head in an almost incredulous way. ]

He acts with the energy of a much younger dog. [ The Warden tuts with a long-suffered sigh. At the other's agreement, though, she smiles more brightly again, settling in a more comfortable position amongst all of the closet-items on the floor. ]

Even if it isn't true, I'd love to hear it. [ Leliana sucks her into all of her stories as easily as anything. The former bard is an excellent storyteller, of course, but Robyn is also fascinated with anything about their home country and its heroes, including the Grey Wardens. ] I can ask the others when I get back and then I'll know if you're a liar or not.

[ Never mind that she wouldn't remember to ask once she returned or that the Alistair there won't be the one with which she'd had this conversation. ]

And who is the leader of Ferelden's Wardens? Is it you, Ser Handsomest, Wittiest and Most Charming of All?

[ After all, she hasn't heard any more details about the 'future' Warden-Commander, not since they'd spoken about Anders' arrival a month or so prior. ]

[Ah mabari. Maybe he should have grown up with a pack of them. He'd have fit right in.

Alistair pauses as Robyn settles down among the mess littering his room, a faintly dismayed look on his face.]

Ah- You can sit on the bed you know.

[He's not going to make a lady sit on the floor just because he's never bothered getting a chair. That's just plain rude. It's one thing for him to settle down there, leaning back against one of the bare stone walls - after a surreptitious check that the bed isn't covered with dirty clothes or worse. He's a big, uncultured brute. She's a tough, dangerous, competent Warden but still a lady.]

I'm not near pretty enough to lead the Wardens. [That is an important qualification for doing a good job of leading Wardens during a Blight. It just is. Warden-Commanders are different and don't need to be pretty.] So that leaves only one person.

[...Anders. Obviously.]

Now that that's sorted. Weisshaupt. [Where does he start? He doesn't have Leliana's flair for story-telling so all he can do is share what he's heard. Tilting his head back to study the ceiling, Alistair dredges up the memories of those times spent around the campfire with the other Wardens, smiling fondly as he recalls them.] I remember hearing about the memorial they have for Garahel. His armour is on display there along with the horns of the archdemon he slew - he and his griffon mount.

Oh- [ She begins, when he offers her a seat ('on the bed')- ] No, I really shouldn't stay, I-...

[ Except, she doesn't have anything pressing to return to, and even if she did, she wouldn't be more interested in it than revitalizing a friendship with him. That aside, she really is interested in hearing about the ancient Wardens, and so when she trails off, she just smiles almost sheepishly and shrugs as if to admit defeat. ]

You're pretty enough. [ Her mouth quirks at a smile, thinking of some moment during their quest when he'd mentioning putting on a dress and dancing for the late king. ] But I'll have to see Anders myself before I can make the final call.

[ Robyn hums in brief laughter, but she quiets when he starts talking. Her interest is obvious in her rapt attention, eyes widening slightly at the mention of the horns of the archdemon. ]

Can you imagine? Fighting a dragon on the back of a griffon-... [ The Warden sighs almost dreamily, lolling her head to one side. ] That is really the stuff of legends. And here we are - 'there' we are, I mean - trudging through every marsh in Ferelden without much by way of support. [ There's a derisive chuckle and a wry smile. ] I suppose the lives of Grey Wardens aren't as fanciful while you're living them.

[ She's about to ask him to go on when Oren, who'd returned to stuffed griffon toy, hears the sound of footsteps not far away. Still young-minded, the hound begins to bark, leaping to his feet and scrambling out of the door to chase down the source of the noise, likely to beg them for snacks. ]

Oren-! [ Robyn heaves another sigh, making fleeting eye contact with the other Warden before grudgingly getting to her feet. She moves to the half-chewed griffon and snatches it up. ]

I'll just... take this, then. [ She says, weakly. Then, she looks to the door, clearly not wanting to leave, but- ] I should... go after him. [ Then, she turns toward Alistair again with an apologetic smile. ] Can I hear the rest another time?

[Alistair brightens when she chooses to stay, gesturing for her to make herself comfortable.

And then bats his eyelashes at her.] You really think I'm pretty?

[Pretty or not, the topic of dresses is one best left alone. Much like Chantry robes, there are some things the world just isn't ready for. Although he may lose the competition either way since Anders, being a mage, already wears a dress and therefore must be prettier.]

Can you imagine flying on the back of a griffon? [He sits forward eagerly, as bright-eyed as Robyn herself.] It would make getting around a lot quicker. If you didn't fall off.

[Before they can get any further into stories or fanciful daydreams about griffon riding, Oren seems to decide they're being too boring for him. Alistair snorts and shakes his head as the mabari bounds off but can't hide his disappointment as Robyn is forced to give chase.]

Sure! [Was that too eager?] Whenever you like, just ask. I'll make some stories up so it sounds like I know what I'm talking about.

[Watching her go Alistair picks himself up so he can go back to sorting out the mess he's made. At least she took Oren's new chew toy. That's one less thing to worry about.]

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