[ Denemrim seems heavy with silence tonight, in spite of the sheer number of people who live within its walls. It's in this quiet that Morrigan's words echo so loudly still, after the Witch of the Wilds had angrily decried the Warden's choice and left (assumedly for good). Robyn stood in that room for some time after, eyes lingering on the dying fire - on the bed - wondering if she had made the right choice.
"Then you are a fool." Perhaps so, to turn away what may be their one and only chance to avoid the loss of one of the few remaining Grey Wardens. But...to choose something that didn't sit well at all with her in this eleventh hour would be a betrayal of the path she had taken thus far. Robyn feels this, objectively, and...still mourns. For the loss of a friend and ally: the sharp sting, as if one of her fingers had left her hand.
Not long after, now saddled with the knowledge of what she may have declined, she walks. Leaves the room where Morrigan had offered life over death, down the cold halls of stone, and then up and out onto the battlements. Calen - attentive, as all mabari are - trots at her heels, tongue lolling. Though Robyn's mind is very certainly still looping her earlier argument with the mage, she admits a faint smile as the dog huffs and puffs and pants the whole way up. ]
Maker. [ She sighs and it's visible in the chilled air. Robyn presses her back to the stone and slides against it to the ground, arms crossed over her chest, hands grasping tight. What next? It seems clear, based on how Morrigan - Riordan - everyone was speaking that "next" is "a slaughter." Hopefully, if the Maker is indeed on their side, the sacrifices that must be made will ultimately lead to the end of the Blight. An icy hand curls around her heart as she tries and fails to avoid picturing who might be counted among the dead tomorrow, as she sees the faces of her friends and companions glassy-eyed and gone. If I have anything to do with it... Though her power is limited, she knows already that everything within her ability will go toward being the one to strike that final blow, as one Warden must, rather than her seniors.
Time - fate - would tell. She exhales again, trying to steady. Feeling decidedly unmoored. ]
[Alistair has had better days, to say the least. He'd take another bout through the dead trenches smeared with the visceral remains of darkspawn before reliving the emotional turmoil he'd been put through in Denerim alone. He had built up a fantasy in his head for how things would go once the Blight had ended, it helped him cope when the archdemon infiltrated his dreams at night. At first, he'd dreamed that he'd live with his sister and her children as one big happy family, surrounded by love. This, of course, fell shattering to the floor upon reuniting with her and the heartbreak that followed. He'd then thought maybe he'd travel, see some place beautiful in the company of those he cared for, but this too turned to heartbreak as Riordan had delivered his news. No happy endings. Not that he felt particularly entitled to one, anyway.
He had thought he saw his fellow Warden's shadow, he'd hoped it was hers, could tell it from anywhere, having seen it beside his own for so many battles already. Alistair followed her footsteps through the dark corridors tepidly, knowing in his heart that this may be their last interaction before one of them was required to give their life to save everything. Alistair knew that if it had to be him, he would do it without hesitation. Duncan would have wanted a heroes death for him, wouldn't he? But it still frightened him, and as he caught sight of Robyn huddled against the stone, he knew she feared it too. His heart sank.]
I see you can't sleep either.
[Alistair chuckles in his way-- anything to make the situation less tense, and finds a spot beside her to have a seat.]
[ Even without the natural nightmares suffered by all Wardens, Alistair and Robyn have respectively seen enough tragedy and horror to fill their dreams with darkness. Their days, too, if those memories were allowed to seep into an awake, wandering mind. Robyn often has to gently shift the night of the attack at Highever from her thoughts, bid the sounds of the attack back into the distant recesses of herself.
There is fresh grief for tonight, though. New, and...awful, as always.
Alistair finds her, as if the cursed blood that lives in both of their veins is somehow magnetic. The Warden smiles thinly, shifting to make room as he sinks down at her side. ]
Mm - no, not exactly. [ In another universe, this is a different conversation. One quite a bit more uncomfortable. She glances sideways, surreptitiously - wondering all at once if it was wrong to refuse Morrigan outright, to speak for Alistair when he might be perfect content to carry on with the deal in exchange for their lives.
(Somehow, she can't envision that being the case, but taking away his ability to choose sits badly with her nonetheless.)
She swallows. ]
...Hoping that the air up here wakes me up, actually. It'll be any moment now and the cold, cold air will shock me awake. Back to...before, and all of this will have been a particularly involved dream...
[ To imagine not having met any of her companions is a sadness all its own, but that would be a sacrifice she'd make to bring back the lives of those lost since the Blight began. Since the Grey Wardens were slaughtered, and King Cailan...and before that... ]
But, then, I'm not sure I've slept especially well since we began all this, whether we're at camp or allowed a real bed.
And I suppose that makes me something your subconscious came up with, then? [He scoffs,] I'm the best it could do?
[Alistair can't help himself, his coping mechanism is humor, and his mouth has gotten him into trouble more times than he can count on his fingers and toes. Perhaps if he makes enough jokes tonight, they'll forget about the bloodbath to come, and at least in their final hours have pleasant dreams.
He rests his arms over his knees, looking off into the cold, where she can't catch his gaze. A good night's sleep was asking too much, of course. He thinks this even before Robyn addresses it.]
Oh, if I've imagined all this, then I think I really must give credit to my subconscious for all of its vivid creations. [ Such an imaginative adventure they've had! And with such diverse traveling companions. The Warden smiles sideways, head tilted as she considers Alistair. ] How dare you insult one of my creations. That is: you.
[ She's happy to joke alongside him, to try and put themselves as much at ease as is possible. It's never been more difficult than it is today. ]
Well, I hope a bit of sleep won't make all the difference in the battle tomorrow. [ Who needs it, right?? ] ...I suppose it would be better to ask around, if anyone here has some sort of sleeping draught.
[ Not that it would be better to oversleep for the fight, either... ]
- If we had more time, [ Robyn starts up suddenly, taking another turn, unable (and perhaps unwilling) to stop herself from speaking her mind here, at the end) ] what would you do? If you had another day after this without responsibility...how would you spend it?
[Her playing along draws his attention again, and Alistair offers a
soft chuckle at her commentary.] Oh-- deeply sorry, I hadn't
realized you'd grown so attached to him.
[Alistair himself would rather not sleep, he thinks. He'd run on
adrenaline alone, and if they won the battle, he'd get sleep as his reward.
Assuming the Big Sleep wasn't in store for him instead... perhaps also
well-earned. It wasn't as if he had great aspirations, he'd be cursed to
nearly thirty more years of tragedy and fighting, battle would be the way
he went, one way or another, even if he'd much rather it be much later in
life.]
What a question. [He'd never really considered it. His dreams of a
family weren't precisely within reach, and that wasn't something he'd be
able to accomplish in a mere day anyway. But assuming he'd be given a
choice for once in his life... well, he wasn't sure what he'd do.
He's not the kind of person who had ever made a choice for himself.
He considered for a moment, his hands fumbling a bit over his knees almost
anxiously.] I suppose in the company of those I care for. Somewhere
beautiful. Is that too cheesy? That's cheesy, isn't it...
Cheesy is your style, usually, isn't it? [ Little double entendre, there. She winks, but there's a usual warmth that's lacking in her little smile. ] I think that's just fine, Alistair. It sounds...lovely.
[ To be with the people you love in a beautiful place. It's the kind of thing she dreams of, too. Somewhere in Ferelden, looking out over the land regrown after the blight. Though her family is gone, she would certainly cherish to spend that time with the companions she'd met thus far.
Robyn is quiet, considering. Calan rests his enormous head on Alistair's thigh, huffing contentedly. ]
If anything happens - [ She begins, nearly surprising herself, not looking over at him. ] Will you take care of him?
[ The Warden lays a hand on her mabari's back, indicating. ]
I suppose it satisfies my palate one way or another. [He chuckles
lightly, despite himself. It's easier for him to not address the awkward
elephant in the room. But then Robyn does just that as Alistair pats
affectionately at Calan's head, ever affectionate.
Alistair's gaze leaves the mabari to watch Robyn. She can't be suggesting
sacrificing herself, can she? But of course she would... she had always
been more strong and fierce than he ever was. Alistair isn't sure why he
hadn't expected as much of her. He swallows hard, feeling a lump in his
throat that he's not ready to come to terms with.]
Of course I would-- but you can't, I mean, you aren't expecting to...you
know.
I'm certainly not planning on it. [ The Warden huffs, crossing her arms. ] But I also think it would be naive to assume any one of us is without the risk. If the opportunity to slay the archdemon is...you know, just there, then I'm not going to stand 'round and wait for another Warden to take care of it, am I?
[ Not Riordan. Certainly not Alistair. ]
I only mean that...anything could happen tomorrow. [ Something small flutters suddenly in the pit of her stomach. ] Best to be prepared.
[ Grim though it may be.
Robyn goes quiet again, turning her hands over in her lap. ]
...Maker. [ There's a heavy sigh before she looks over at him, guilt clear in her face. ] Alistair, I've got to tell you-... Something happened. Morrigan's gone. Not-...dead, or anything, but...she left. Because of me.
[Alistair is more startled by the sudden appearance of mabari than he has any right to be, constantly amazed by just how smart the creature is. He wades back a bit, as if it were possible to avoid the dog's splashing, and chuckles as it hits him, his hands shielding his eyes.]
Oh, good, because I couldn't imagine a smell that would compliment viscera as well as wet mabari.
[Shaking his head, he waits until the hound has calmed a bit before scrubbing at his own hands once more, making sure he's got as much off them as he can.]
I can. Ever been to a fish market on a hot summer day? It's a nightmare for the nose.
[ She's grinning, though, amused at the memory (however gross) and pleased to be in such good company...and less spattered with gore than she'd been. ]
Ah. That's a good one. [ She considers it further as she gets to her feet, hair now more or less dealt with. Next, without any pomp, she removes the jerkin and adds it to the pile, spending just a moment in her smallclothes on shore before getting into the water, wading until she can stand with her chest covered before starting to rub at the muck on her arms. ]
How about...anywhere near the chamber pots of the barracks? Soldiers are truly a different breed, and I mean that in a strictly stink-based way.
[Alistair catches himself looking at her, his head quickly turning back down to face the water as he remembers his manners.]
Oh, yes. Particularly on the nights where we had brown stew. [There's really no other word for it. Soldiers don't get training on how to cook. Available edible substances all are thrown in a boiling cauldron over a flame and stirred until it all congeals into one greyish-brown substance. That's supposed to be edible, and usually it is if you're in such a rush to eat before going to battle that you don't have time to taste it.]
Excellent. [ He can't see, but she mimes retching at the mental image. ] Let's just say you've won the...disgusting details contest, or whatever it was we decided to do. I'm not sure I can take much more.
[ She chuckles, though, as she washes off, reflecting on their...choices of conversation. ]
Anyway... [ Robyn half-turns, brows lifting in question. ] How are you doing over there, fellow Warden? Need someone to reach any difficult place on your back?
[ Oswyn Sighard knew how to entertain, but apparently not how to read a room. The son of the former Bann, who had inherited his father's position after his death, had been gracious enough to host some of the Wardens who had played a key role in the Fifth Blight when he caught wind they would be in the area. More significant to Oswyn had been these particular Wardens' involvement in his rescue prior to the Landsmeet, freeing him from imprisonment and torture, and earning his father's vote when the time came.
Yes, the man's enthused stories and gracious hosting were impressive, and well-earned by his guests, but the guests in question had other things on their minds.
Don't speak for your fellow Warden! Just because you're as impulsive as ever... Robyn Cousland, Hero of the Fifth Blight, glanced sideways at the other figure at the table. It had been a very happy accident that she and Alistair had been in the same relative part of Ferelden, considering how long it had been since they'd last been able to see each other. When the local Bann had somehow caught wind of this news, he'd cheerfully strong-armed the pair into an evening at his home, more than happy to repay some of the people who had saved his life.
It had seemed impolite to refuse him then, but now Robyn quite wishes they'd taken a firmer hand. ]
- Hm? Oh, yes. Very cold this time of year. [ Only semi-confident her answer had been at all related to what Oswyn had asked, she glanced again, covertly, to Alistair. How long had it been since they'd last had any time alone together? Though he, like her, currently wore the heavy armor and sigils of their order, she could see smaller changes in his face, his demeanor. A new scar here, a bit of stubble there. The weariness of searching for a cure for the darkspawn's taint. A comfortable confidence that hadn't been present during their earlier years.
Robyn smiled faintly. She was very much looking forward to liberating him from the armor and exploring at length what else might have changed since their last encounter. Maybe she could seize a gap in the Bann's stories, insist the Grey Wardens needed their beauty rest after a long day, and then... ]
[Bite your tongue. Alistair told himself. The less he interjected with nonsensical quips the quicker the Bann would run out of things to say. At least in theory, that is. Alistair wasn't completely aware of most of the things he'd been saying, busy thinking through his latest plan on his docket, where he'd be traveling tirelessly to next, and what precautions he'd need to take. There had been rumors of a cure since long before his birth, but no documentation he could find, and no one alive willing to discuss it with him.
Then of course, there was Robyn, and every moment he had to steal a glance, he did. Each comment or question the Bann would direct at her had been a gift, another excuse for him to look her way again, the faintest smile on his lips as he took in her beauty. Even in the most dreadful situations (of which they had found themselves in many), she had the ability to light up the room, and the elder warden found himself drawn to her like moth to flame.
She spoke, and truly Alistair hadn’t been listening well enough to know if it was relevant, either.]
Terribly so. Oh, that reminds me. I should go ensure the horses are well before it grows too cold in the night-- [He says this standing urgently, muttering over the Bann before he can object to such a ludicrous idea. As his guests, they had surely already been seen to, but it was the first thing that came to mind as an excuse to leave the room.]
Warden Cousland, if you don't mind assisting me? [His look is nearly pleading despite his tone formal, the hint of a smirk on his lips.]
[ Thank the Maker. Still, she nearly doesn't mask her surprise as Alistair speaks up on their behalf. It's too easy to slip back into the mindset of how things were back when they had first met, where she might have expected the senior Warden to cede taking the initiative to her.
Interesting. The tiniest playful smile quirks at her lips as she imagines if that change has translated elsewhere. ]
Of course. [ She stands with an almost solemn, apologetic air, laying a hand on her chest as she inclines her head to the Bann. ] Bann Sighard, you understand, don't you?
[ The man himself, stunned into a perplexed silence, seemed to remember himself at her words, leaning forward in his seat. ]
"Oh - yes, but, you needn't tend the horses! Maker knows we have people for that, and - "
[ In response, Robyn's eyes widen in faux-remembrance and concern, and she makes a show of turning to Alistair for a moment before returning her gaze to their host. ]
You don't know? Our deepest apologies, my lord - the horses of our order are a special breed, and their care is quite particular. It really would be best if we reviewed their health ourselves. If they catch a chill, they're liable to catch [ uhhhHHHH ] ...Winter's Lampost...Syndrome, and it can be terribly deadly.
[It should be no surprise to Robyn that without her around to default the decisions to, Alistair had to develop some leadership qualities. As the eldest Warden, the others looked up to him and expected him to call the shots, and after a bit of practice, he even found that he was rather good at it (Or at least there were very few complaints).
As Robyn turns to him and catches onto his little charade seamlessly, Alistair almost grins, his lips falling as he catches himself to try to feign a more grim expression. He was no bard, clearly.]
Yes! Terrible! [He nods.] Once the legs begin to lock up, they'll become stiff as a lamppost-- no recovery, I'm afraid. Very serious.
[This is said, of course, while he slowly inches to the doorway, beginning to make his exit.]
But don't worry, we have the proper insulation-- and we can find our way back to our rooms without issue. Thank you for being such an accomodating host.
[ If the Bann had been about to concede that his guests attend their horses and then return for further camaraderie, he would be sorely mistaken. Their host opens and closes his mouth a few times, gears moving as he processes the turn of events. Robyn can see another invitation coming, and - ]
Yes, the whole thing can be very tiring. Once we've seen to the mounts, I do think it'll be time for us to turn in, so... Thank you again for your hospitality, and very much looking forward to picking up where we left off in the morning.
[ The Bann, who seemingly hasn't caught a whiff of their true intentions, finally sighs and closes his mouth, conceding. As they move to the door, he regains a bit more of his composure, also rising to his feet. ]
"You know, an earlier night might do me some good as well. Until tomorrow, then, and thank you for the pleasure of your company."
[ Robyn, back to the door even as she grasps the handle behind her, smiles graciously. ]
A very pleasurable night, yes. Thank you. [ There's a last moment where she steps out into the hall, leaving the door open for her fellow Warden to pass through, before walking briskly toward the stables in question, not looking back. There's a chill in the air, as there almost always is within Ferelden, but she feels a deep-set heat brewing from within as she goes. ]
[There is a moment where Alistair almost panics, worried that the Bann had seen through their charade (Oh, if Duncan were alive he'd probably receive an earfull in the morning), but then the man concedes and Alistair lets out an exhale of relief.]
Yes, thank you again. Have a good night, until tomorrow... [He's quick then to turn and race out the door behind Robyn, the expression on his face one that reads he can't believe they had just gotten away with that; wide-eyed and smirking. An amused huff leaves his lips and shows on the chilled air, and he waits until he's certain that they're out of the line of sight from the doorway to lean against a wall and take a deep breath of relief.]
Winter's Lampost Syndrome... really? [He snorts, giving Robyn an incredulous look.] I can't believe that worked.
An expression I once learned from a wise man on the road. [ She replies airily, half-turning with a cool smirk before it collapses into a more Robyn-like, mischievous grin. ] Well, adapted from that expression, anyway.
[ As if anyone could forget Alistair's unique little quips, she thinks. Least of all the two of them, given the context of the original lamppost discussion. ]
And - excuse you! Warden of little faith! [ She reaches out to punch him soundly on the arm, brows lifting with the insult. ] I am obviously an accomplished liar [ says one of the worst liars in Thedas ] and may well have been a bard in another life. I hope you'll remember my fearsome and persuasive reputation next time, before you besmirch it.
[ There's a breathy sort of exhale as she chuckles, savoring the moment of levity between them. After everything...especially nowadays, with the grim nature of their work, and how little time they're able to spend in each other's company...the humor is badly needed. A gulp of water for a man in the desert, overcome with thirst.
...She remembers herself, remembers the intent. All at once takes in the closeness of him, and swallows hard as a little thrill of opportunity shoots from her toes into the crown of her head, and back down. Robyn closes the gap, gaze warm and hungry as it searches his face, drinks in his eyes, finds his lips. ]
...I missed you. [ The Hero murmurs, before cupping the side of his face in a hand and tilting her head upward to kiss him. ]
There is your first mistake, [He scoffs,] Ever thinking me wise.
[At least his quips come with a healthy dose of self-awareness, anyhow. There wouldn't be anything charming about him if they didn't.
He almost cackles as she punches his arm, playfully wincing and swatting her away.]
Ow! Obviously! Are you sure you weren't a sister in the chantry? I remember them threatening me with beatings as well.
[It's much needer humor, but moreso that seeing Robyn again is cause enough for celebration. The Bann is lucky that Alistair hadn’t begun smothering her in his affections the moment she'd entered the room.
Her sudden shift in energy doesn't go unnoticed, and Alistair's shoulders fall, relaxing as she presses closer, his hands seeking out her waist. Her hand is warm on his cheek despite the cold, but even if it weren't, there is a wamrth blooming within him now, and there is not a worry in all of Thedas on his mind as he's pulled in, reunited with his love.]
And I you, [He manages to reply just before their lips meet, voice soft in a way that's almost in reverence of her. His kiss is soft and slow also, like he's trying to make sure to savor every taste of her and remember every detail. They may very well be pulled from one another again tomorrow, this memory having to last him until their paths cross again.]
Mn, not a sister, then. [He mutters against her lips with a smirk, his arms wrapping around her tight so that she can't begin hitting him again in retaliation.] Clearly not chaste.
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"Then you are a fool." Perhaps so, to turn away what may be their one and only chance to avoid the loss of one of the few remaining Grey Wardens. But...to choose something that didn't sit well at all with her in this eleventh hour would be a betrayal of the path she had taken thus far. Robyn feels this, objectively, and...still mourns. For the loss of a friend and ally: the sharp sting, as if one of her fingers had left her hand.
Not long after, now saddled with the knowledge of what she may have declined, she walks. Leaves the room where Morrigan had offered life over death, down the cold halls of stone, and then up and out onto the battlements. Calen - attentive, as all mabari are - trots at her heels, tongue lolling. Though Robyn's mind is very certainly still looping her earlier argument with the mage, she admits a faint smile as the dog huffs and puffs and pants the whole way up. ]
Maker. [ She sighs and it's visible in the chilled air. Robyn presses her back to the stone and slides against it to the ground, arms crossed over her chest, hands grasping tight. What next? It seems clear, based on how Morrigan - Riordan - everyone was speaking that "next" is "a slaughter." Hopefully, if the Maker is indeed on their side, the sacrifices that must be made will ultimately lead to the end of the Blight. An icy hand curls around her heart as she tries and fails to avoid picturing who might be counted among the dead tomorrow, as she sees the faces of her friends and companions glassy-eyed and gone. If I have anything to do with it... Though her power is limited, she knows already that everything within her ability will go toward being the one to strike that final blow, as one Warden must, rather than her seniors.
Time - fate - would tell. She exhales again, trying to steady. Feeling decidedly unmoored. ]
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He had thought he saw his fellow Warden's shadow, he'd hoped it was hers, could tell it from anywhere, having seen it beside his own for so many battles already. Alistair followed her footsteps through the dark corridors tepidly, knowing in his heart that this may be their last interaction before one of them was required to give their life to save everything. Alistair knew that if it had to be him, he would do it without hesitation. Duncan would have wanted a heroes death for him, wouldn't he? But it still frightened him, and as he caught sight of Robyn huddled against the stone, he knew she feared it too. His heart sank.]
I see you can't sleep either.
[Alistair chuckles in his way-- anything to make the situation less tense, and finds a spot beside her to have a seat.]
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There is fresh grief for tonight, though. New, and...awful, as always.
Alistair finds her, as if the cursed blood that lives in both of their veins is somehow magnetic. The Warden smiles thinly, shifting to make room as he sinks down at her side. ]
Mm - no, not exactly. [ In another universe, this is a different conversation. One quite a bit more uncomfortable. She glances sideways, surreptitiously - wondering all at once if it was wrong to refuse Morrigan outright, to speak for Alistair when he might be perfect content to carry on with the deal in exchange for their lives.
(Somehow, she can't envision that being the case, but taking away his ability to choose sits badly with her nonetheless.)
She swallows. ]
...Hoping that the air up here wakes me up, actually. It'll be any moment now and the cold, cold air will shock me awake. Back to...before, and all of this will have been a particularly involved dream...
[ To imagine not having met any of her companions is a sadness all its own, but that would be a sacrifice she'd make to bring back the lives of those lost since the Blight began. Since the Grey Wardens were slaughtered, and King Cailan...and before that... ]
But, then, I'm not sure I've slept especially well since we began all this, whether we're at camp or allowed a real bed.
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[Alistair can't help himself, his coping mechanism is humor, and his mouth has gotten him into trouble more times than he can count on his fingers and toes. Perhaps if he makes enough jokes tonight, they'll forget about the bloodbath to come, and at least in their final hours have pleasant dreams.
He rests his arms over his knees, looking off into the cold, where she can't catch his gaze. A good night's sleep was asking too much, of course. He thinks this even before Robyn addresses it.]
No, I suspect not.
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[ She's happy to joke alongside him, to try and put themselves as much at ease as is possible. It's never been more difficult than it is today. ]
Well, I hope a bit of sleep won't make all the difference in the battle tomorrow. [ Who needs it, right?? ] ...I suppose it would be better to ask around, if anyone here has some sort of sleeping draught.
[ Not that it would be better to oversleep for the fight, either... ]
- If we had more time, [ Robyn starts up suddenly, taking another turn, unable (and perhaps unwilling) to stop herself from speaking her mind here, at the end) ] what would you do? If you had another day after this without responsibility...how would you spend it?
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[Her playing along draws his attention again, and Alistair offers a soft chuckle at her commentary.] Oh-- deeply sorry, I hadn't realized you'd grown so attached to him.
[Alistair himself would rather not sleep, he thinks. He'd run on adrenaline alone, and if they won the battle, he'd get sleep as his reward. Assuming the Big Sleep wasn't in store for him instead... perhaps also well-earned. It wasn't as if he had great aspirations, he'd be cursed to nearly thirty more years of tragedy and fighting, battle would be the way he went, one way or another, even if he'd much rather it be much later in life.]
What a question. [He'd never really considered it. His dreams of a family weren't precisely within reach, and that wasn't something he'd be able to accomplish in a mere day anyway. But assuming he'd be given a choice for once in his life... well, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He's not the kind of person who had ever made a choice for himself. He considered for a moment, his hands fumbling a bit over his knees almost anxiously.] I suppose in the company of those I care for. Somewhere beautiful. Is that too cheesy? That's cheesy, isn't it...
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[ To be with the people you love in a beautiful place. It's the kind of thing she dreams of, too. Somewhere in Ferelden, looking out over the land regrown after the blight. Though her family is gone, she would certainly cherish to spend that time with the companions she'd met thus far.
Robyn is quiet, considering. Calan rests his enormous head on Alistair's thigh, huffing contentedly. ]
If anything happens - [ She begins, nearly surprising herself, not looking over at him. ] Will you take care of him?
[ The Warden lays a hand on her mabari's back, indicating. ]
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I suppose it satisfies my palate one way or another. [He chuckles lightly, despite himself. It's easier for him to not address the awkward elephant in the room. But then Robyn does just that as Alistair pats affectionately at Calan's head, ever affectionate.
Alistair's gaze leaves the mabari to watch Robyn. She can't be suggesting sacrificing herself, can she? But of course she would... she had always been more strong and fierce than he ever was. Alistair isn't sure why he hadn't expected as much of her. He swallows hard, feeling a lump in his throat that he's not ready to come to terms with.]
Of course I would-- but you can't, I mean, you aren't expecting to...you know.
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[ Not Riordan. Certainly not Alistair. ]
I only mean that...anything could happen tomorrow. [ Something small flutters suddenly in the pit of her stomach. ] Best to be prepared.
[ Grim though it may be.
Robyn goes quiet again, turning her hands over in her lap. ]
...Maker. [ There's a heavy sigh before she looks over at him, guilt clear in her face. ] Alistair, I've got to tell you-... Something happened. Morrigan's gone. Not-...dead, or anything, but...she left. Because of me.
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A triumphant return.
/o
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Oh, good, because I couldn't imagine a smell that would compliment viscera as well as wet mabari.
[Shaking his head, he waits until the hound has calmed a bit before scrubbing at his own hands once more, making sure he's got as much off them as he can.]
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[ She's grinning, though, amused at the memory (however gross) and pleased to be in such good company...and less spattered with gore than she'd been. ]
Can you top that, then? Give me something worse.
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Mm. Yeah, maybe. The deep roads a few days or so after a large battle that no one's bothered to clean up.
[He sinks in the water a bit so that he can wash his face.]
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How about...anywhere near the chamber pots of the barracks? Soldiers are truly a different breed, and I mean that in a strictly stink-based way.
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Oh, yes. Particularly on the nights where we had brown stew. [There's really no other word for it. Soldiers don't get training on how to cook. Available edible substances all are thrown in a boiling cauldron over a flame and stirred until it all congeals into one greyish-brown substance. That's supposed to be edible, and usually it is if you're in such a rush to eat before going to battle that you don't have time to taste it.]
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[ She chuckles, though, as she washes off, reflecting on their...choices of conversation. ]
Anyway... [ Robyn half-turns, brows lifting in question. ] How are you doing over there, fellow Warden? Need someone to reach any difficult place on your back?
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[He laughs, cupping water in his hands to splash over his face and clean the muck from it.]
I don't even remember how this started... probably for the best we cap it off there.
[Alistair lifts his face to look back at her, eyebrows quirked in a way that's quintessentially him.]
Should I be wary of that offer? I'll take it if you're willing to lend a hand. First, have I missed a spot on my face?
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Yes, the man's enthused stories and gracious hosting were impressive, and well-earned by his guests, but the guests in question had other things on their minds.
Don't speak for your fellow Warden! Just because you're as impulsive as ever... Robyn Cousland, Hero of the Fifth Blight, glanced sideways at the other figure at the table. It had been a very happy accident that she and Alistair had been in the same relative part of Ferelden, considering how long it had been since they'd last been able to see each other. When the local Bann had somehow caught wind of this news, he'd cheerfully strong-armed the pair into an evening at his home, more than happy to repay some of the people who had saved his life.
It had seemed impolite to refuse him then, but now Robyn quite wishes they'd taken a firmer hand. ]
- Hm? Oh, yes. Very cold this time of year. [ Only semi-confident her answer had been at all related to what Oswyn had asked, she glanced again, covertly, to Alistair. How long had it been since they'd last had any time alone together? Though he, like her, currently wore the heavy armor and sigils of their order, she could see smaller changes in his face, his demeanor. A new scar here, a bit of stubble there. The weariness of searching for a cure for the darkspawn's taint. A comfortable confidence that hadn't been present during their earlier years.
Robyn smiled faintly. She was very much looking forward to liberating him from the armor and exploring at length what else might have changed since their last encounter. Maybe she could seize a gap in the Bann's stories, insist the Grey Wardens needed their beauty rest after a long day, and then... ]
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Then of course, there was Robyn, and every moment he had to steal a glance, he did. Each comment or question the Bann would direct at her had been a gift, another excuse for him to look her way again, the faintest smile on his lips as he took in her beauty. Even in the most dreadful situations (of which they had found themselves in many), she had the ability to light up the room, and the elder warden found himself drawn to her like moth to flame.
She spoke, and truly Alistair hadn’t been listening well enough to know if it was relevant, either.]
Terribly so. Oh, that reminds me. I should go ensure the horses are well before it grows too cold in the night-- [He says this standing urgently, muttering over the Bann before he can object to such a ludicrous idea. As his guests, they had surely already been seen to, but it was the first thing that came to mind as an excuse to leave the room.]
Warden Cousland, if you don't mind assisting me? [His look is nearly pleading despite his tone formal, the hint of a smirk on his lips.]
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Interesting. The tiniest playful smile quirks at her lips as she imagines if that change has translated elsewhere. ]
Of course. [ She stands with an almost solemn, apologetic air, laying a hand on her chest as she inclines her head to the Bann. ] Bann Sighard, you understand, don't you?
[ The man himself, stunned into a perplexed silence, seemed to remember himself at her words, leaning forward in his seat. ]
"Oh - yes, but, you needn't tend the horses! Maker knows we have people for that, and - "
[ In response, Robyn's eyes widen in faux-remembrance and concern, and she makes a show of turning to Alistair for a moment before returning her gaze to their host. ]
You don't know? Our deepest apologies, my lord - the horses of our order are a special breed, and their care is quite particular. It really would be best if we reviewed their health ourselves. If they catch a chill, they're liable to catch [ uhhhHHHH ] ...Winter's Lampost...Syndrome, and it can be terribly deadly.
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As Robyn turns to him and catches onto his little charade seamlessly, Alistair almost grins, his lips falling as he catches himself to try to feign a more grim expression. He was no bard, clearly.]
Yes! Terrible! [He nods.] Once the legs begin to lock up, they'll become stiff as a lamppost-- no recovery, I'm afraid. Very serious.
[This is said, of course, while he slowly inches to the doorway, beginning to make his exit.]
But don't worry, we have the proper insulation-- and we can find our way back to our rooms without issue. Thank you for being such an accomodating host.
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Yes, the whole thing can be very tiring. Once we've seen to the mounts, I do think it'll be time for us to turn in, so... Thank you again for your hospitality, and very much looking forward to picking up where we left off in the morning.
[ The Bann, who seemingly hasn't caught a whiff of their true intentions, finally sighs and closes his mouth, conceding. As they move to the door, he regains a bit more of his composure, also rising to his feet. ]
"You know, an earlier night might do me some good as well. Until tomorrow, then, and thank you for the pleasure of your company."
[ Robyn, back to the door even as she grasps the handle behind her, smiles graciously. ]
A very pleasurable night, yes. Thank you. [ There's a last moment where she steps out into the hall, leaving the door open for her fellow Warden to pass through, before walking briskly toward the stables in question, not looking back. There's a chill in the air, as there almost always is within Ferelden, but she feels a deep-set heat brewing from within as she goes. ]
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Yes, thank you again. Have a good night, until tomorrow... [He's quick then to turn and race out the door behind Robyn, the expression on his face one that reads he can't believe they had just gotten away with that; wide-eyed and smirking. An amused huff leaves his lips and shows on the chilled air, and he waits until he's certain that they're out of the line of sight from the doorway to lean against a wall and take a deep breath of relief.]
Winter's Lampost Syndrome... really? [He snorts, giving Robyn an incredulous look.] I can't believe that worked.
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[ As if anyone could forget Alistair's unique little quips, she thinks. Least of all the two of them, given the context of the original lamppost discussion. ]
And - excuse you! Warden of little faith! [ She reaches out to punch him soundly on the arm, brows lifting with the insult. ] I am obviously an accomplished liar [ says one of the worst liars in Thedas ] and may well have been a bard in another life. I hope you'll remember my fearsome and persuasive reputation next time, before you besmirch it.
[ There's a breathy sort of exhale as she chuckles, savoring the moment of levity between them. After everything...especially nowadays, with the grim nature of their work, and how little time they're able to spend in each other's company...the humor is badly needed. A gulp of water for a man in the desert, overcome with thirst.
...She remembers herself, remembers the intent. All at once takes in the closeness of him, and swallows hard as a little thrill of opportunity shoots from her toes into the crown of her head, and back down. Robyn closes the gap, gaze warm and hungry as it searches his face, drinks in his eyes, finds his lips. ]
...I missed you. [ The Hero murmurs, before cupping the side of his face in a hand and tilting her head upward to kiss him. ]
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[At least his quips come with a healthy dose of self-awareness, anyhow. There wouldn't be anything charming about him if they didn't.
He almost cackles as she punches his arm, playfully wincing and swatting her away.]
Ow! Obviously! Are you sure you weren't a sister in the chantry? I remember them threatening me with beatings as well.
[It's much needer humor, but moreso that seeing Robyn again is cause enough for celebration. The Bann is lucky that Alistair hadn’t begun smothering her in his affections the moment she'd entered the room.
Her sudden shift in energy doesn't go unnoticed, and Alistair's shoulders fall, relaxing as she presses closer, his hands seeking out her waist. Her hand is warm on his cheek despite the cold, but even if it weren't, there is a wamrth blooming within him now, and there is not a worry in all of Thedas on his mind as he's pulled in, reunited with his love.]
And I you, [He manages to reply just before their lips meet, voice soft in a way that's almost in reverence of her. His kiss is soft and slow also, like he's trying to make sure to savor every taste of her and remember every detail. They may very well be pulled from one another again tomorrow, this memory having to last him until their paths cross again.]
Mn, not a sister, then. [He mutters against her lips with a smirk, his arms wrapping around her tight so that she can't begin hitting him again in retaliation.] Clearly not chaste.
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SLAMS IN HERE A MONTH LATER
SAME SAME