[ He follows the sound of her voice and catches up to her a moment later before she can wander off in the completely opposite direction once more, dashing across the clearing to catch her about the waist, tugging her back against his chest ]
Whoa. I've got you. You're fine. And yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea, I think. Are you hurt?
[ Maker. That was an even larger bear than the last three he'd come across. ]
Oof. [ Strong arms pull her back and at first she reaches clumsily for her dagger, but the voice comes after, drifting through her head like an old song, and she's mollified. ]
No, I mean - retire from the Wardens, I'm absolutely... [ She makes a little, discontented noise, trying valiantly to be free of his grasp so that she can prove to him (to herself) that she's capable of standing and being the Warden that Gotham Ferelden needs right now. ]
Not hurt. [ That wasn't what she'd been about to say, but it's important to let him know. She thinks suddenly of a river and some bridge, words stuck to her memory, and turns to frown at him. ]
But you aren't wet! I thought... Oh, I'm very out of sorts at the moment.
[ Certain now that she's not about to swoon in his arms or something, he turns her carefully in his grip, still refusing to let go of her - she had lost her feet apparently, after all. ]
You're absolutely not retiring from the Wardens. [ He informs her of this firmly and fondly, his hands on her hips as he steadies her, giving her a faint smile as he takes her in, reassuring himself that she's alright. ] That is not allowed. And if that was an option for every Warden who overindulged every now and then, there'd be none of us left.
What happened to you, anyway? I thought you were with Zevran?
But none of them were such messes about it. [ And within her first year, too. Embarrassment rises as color to her cheeks and she squirms a bit in his grasp; it's nice to feel grounded, as she literally does with him holding her, but she admires him so much so that this experience is fairly humiliating. ]
I didn't mean - Well, I was, yes, and he's... part of why this... happened.
[ She gestures mildly to herself. To the bear. ]
I'm not sure what, um, he had us drink, but I'm certain I'm never having it again.
[ Maker have mercy. She blinks up at him, innocent as you like. There's a spot of (bear) blood on her nose. ]
He tried to kiss the dog before he dozed off. Think he managed it, actually.
You only say that because you haven't seen a hall full of Wardens get drunk off their asses yet.
[ He points this out with a wry smile as he gazes down at her, fond and bemused. At her motion, he takes in the bear and her own state of dishabille and cocks an eyebrow upwards. ]
Drinking with Antivans never ends well, for future reference. And considering you felled a bear by yourself with a bow while in this state, I think you've acquitted yourself admirably.
[ He lifts a hand to cup against her cheek, his thumb swiping at the spot on her nose to wipe it away. ] Here, you have a... I think a little mess is to be anticipated, considering.
Yet! [ Perhaps she's momentarily forgotten that they're all dead (how could she, though), or it's that she anticipates meeting dozens of others before they're both dead and drinking heavily with them. She doesn't make a habit of it, certainly, but the approach of the Landsmeet has driven her to making bets with Zeveran, and... here they are. ]
I would say it was about as difficult as taking out darkspawn unaddled.
[ Yes, that sounds about right. She nods firmly. He dabs at her nose, taking her face in his hand, and she raises her own to close over his. ]
I think it's more than a little mess. [ So kind, though, Alistair. Robyn smiles brightly, glad to have one person on her side, at least, if she exasperates half their companions regularly (or maybe it's just Morrigan). ]
My hero. I could never have lived with any dirt on my nose.
[ There's more than one Hall. She'll get to see it sooner or later.
He chuckles at her words, a faint flush creeping up the back of his neck when she smiles up at him like that, her hand against his a warmth he is all too aware of. ]
I'm sure you would have made do. You always seem to. Admirably, even. If either of us is going to show up looking like a bumbling idiot somewhere, I assure you, it won't be you.
Now. let's see about getting you back to camp and finding your feet, yes? Before any more bears find us first, hmm? [ He hums out, and there's only the briefest hint of mischief flickering in his gaze before he reaches down and scoops her up in his arms, cradling her carefully against his chest as he settles her there in an easy grip. ]
You are far too unkind to yourself. [ Always one to speak her mind. Robyn briefly tightens her grip around his hand, squeezing gently, then withdrawing. ] I would never have made it here without your help... what with the bears, and the... everything.
[ And the feet, as he's said. She seems as if she's going to continue speaking in his defense until he scoops her up in one, fluid motion. Robyn actually gasps, disoriented, aware primarily that the earth has moved under her feet. Secondly, that he's taken her literally into his arms. ]
Oh - I can walk, honestly! I made it here, didn't I?
[ Mind, she isn't particularly far from camp; the dark woods had made it impossibly easy to wander in unsteady circles.
Once, Fergus had gotten so drunk (around her age, she thinks, hazily) that she had found him the next morning cozied up with a potted plant. She'd laughed herself silly and brought their mother to see before he woke, muttering curses, but smiling in admittance of his own absurdity.
What would he think of her now, how much she'd changed?
Her fingers curl around the corner of his plating. ]
You won't be able to do much about bears if you've got to manage me, you know.
Oh, I don't know. You've still got a bow. And failing that, you can just snarl at them menacingly. I've seen you do it. It's terrifying.
[ He keeps his tone light as he carries her back through the woods, because he suspects that this might still be quicker. Or maybe he just likes the feeling of having her in his arms, but he's not about to bring that up. ]
Just tuck in and get comfortable for a few minutes and I'll have you and your feet back in camp in no time, I vow it.
[ Did someone say "snarl at them menacingly?" Robyn bares her teeth, uttering a growl that she may normally be able to pull off, but despite her valiant effort, only sounds like a lion cub at the moment. ]
Tuck in? If you aren't careful, I'll just nod off up here.
[ She hasn't been carried around since she was a girl; despite the hazy state of her head, she recognizes the moment between them and her heart flutters a bit.
Like a little girl's. Hang it all. I've been a complete child. ]
And what if we cannot find my feet, Alistair? How will we go on?
I'm sure we'll think of something. You're very resourceful, after all. And if you and I can't find them, I'm sure we can rely on the mabari. He finds everything.
[ He chuckles as he glances down at her, charmed by the little snarl she lets loose and oh no, that really is too adorable by half, now what's he supposed to do? Other than nearly stumble over his own two feet, which he narrowly misses and hey campfire, thank the Maker.
The camp is all quiet and still, most of their companions are sound asleep, although he can see Sten prowling around along the outskirts, as restless and intimidating as ever. He carries Robyn instead to her tent, moving silently before carefully setting her down on her feet once more, hands lingering until he was certain she had her balance. ]
That he does. [ She thinks immediately of before this had all started, the night before Howe betrayed her family. The hound had come to her with someone's underthings in its maw and she had just laughed.
Well, he's enthusiastic, at least.
The campfire streaks through her vision in a warm flash and then they're in her tent. Robyn sways a bit as she's set down, not especially thrilled to be free of his assuaging grip, but she manages to make sense of the world in a way that doesn't involve her falling over again. ]
Thank you for all this. [ But, as people often are when intoxicated, she's struck by something she feels intensely compelled to say, something that bursts through the dam of her lips like floodwater. ] - I really will miss your company if you - when you take the throne.
[ The Landsmeet has been more than a strong focus in her mind, hence the drinking, hence the little, embarrassed outburst. She glances away, clearing her throat, face reddening from the ale, or... other things. ]
[ He winces slightly at that and bends his head to press his brow against hers, huffing out a quiet sigh as his hands fall to her hips, steady there, reluctant to relinquish his hold on her just yet. ]
Can we... not talk about that right now?
[ He was dreading it. Dreading it worse than facing the looming threat of the Archdemon. Archdemons he could fight. He was good at fighting. Having to take the crown...
That was more terrifying to him than a dozen Blights, back to back. Especially the thought of doing it alone. ]
[ She's still as he leans toward her, closing her eyes, brows furrowed. ]
Of course. [ And there's the regret, bubbling up like acid into her throat. It's all so dammed complicated already; she needn't go around reminding him of how much more so it will be in a few days' time. ] I didn't mean- [ She makes a little dissatisfied noise. ] ... Yes. Maker, you've been so attentive, and here I am, being so very trying all night through.
You are never trying, Robyn. [ The words are serious as his eyes open again, and there's fondness warm in them as he lifts one hand to cup against her cheek, slides it back to curl at the nape of her neck. ] Maker help me, you could never be that. I just...
Part of me wishes we could just stop time right here. Not have to move forward. Too many things are changing, and so quickly I can't keep up. Changes I don't think I'm ready for.
[ Especially if it meant taking him away from her side. Not when it felt so right that he remain here with her. Like he belonged. ]
[ The drunkenness ebbs as the night wears on; it still has a hold on her, hence the thoughts spoken that she might not have voiced otherwise. Still, she's able to look at him and speak with more careful consideration. Despite what he says, the last thing she wants to do is to add more to his already-full, metaphorical plate, intentionally or otherwise. ]
I know. I feel the same. [ She misses her home and her family, hadn't even considered that she might end up a Grey Warden, but since then... this is the only home she has. Besides that, it's been wonderful, darkspawn and betrayal aside. She's an eternal optimist; their misadventures have been as much about traveling Ferelden and helping its people as its been nightmares and monsters. ] I can't say I'm ready for any of it, either. I've never been much of a politician, and a lot of it - [ She sighs, glancing down to think, dark hair tumbling over her shoulder. ] So much has been put upon us to decide.
[ And more will, if she has to shoulder Warden duties alone, following the fight with the Archdemon (if she even survives). So will he, if he has to rule the kingdom alone. It occurs to her with a little shock that it might be sensible for him to marry Anora, to unite the experienced ruler and the claim to the throne in wedlock.
Despite herself, despite all of her best wishes for the queen, her heart tightens at the thought. ]
[ he lifts a hand, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear from where it had fallen loose, his eyes warm and searching her face for a moment. ]
Don't think about it. It's still far away, or so I keep telling myself. Either way, it's not here now. But we are. We don't need to make any world-changing decisions tonight. Unless you really want to, of course?
Not at all. And I'm not qualified at the moment, either.
[ As she's asserted. She smiles brightly up at him, relieved that he doesn't want to talk about it; despite the fact that she'd brought it up, it had been a sort of unintentional reaction and, more than anything, she'd like to forget it. At least for now. They have this moment and a while yet before any real decision needs to be made.
She captures his stray hand, fingers curling around his. ]
We ought to, um - [ Robyn worries briefly at her lip, then sighs in a grudging sort of way. ] You should get some sleep, considering how much work you've been doing trying to keep me on my feet.
Noted; I shall have to make things more difficult for you the next time I drink with an Antivan. [ She smiles brightly, still holding his hand, then ducks under the flap as he holds it so nobly open for her.
It isn't much, as it's a tent, but a candle's shadow dances along the walls and across their faces once they stand within. Robyn looks up at Alistair, lifts onto her tip-toes and pecks him softly on the cheek. ]
I don't need much settling. [ Really, she just has to remove the weapons from her person and the outer armor; she's fine to sleep in her tunic and leggings. She glances toward the exit behind him, but she's unwilling to let go of his fingers in hers. ]
[ There's teasing in his tone, husky with humor, but also an underlying sense of gentleness. Instead of releasing her entirely, his hands move to start helping remove her weapons, surprisingly adept at it, despite the fumbling awkwardness he was so often prone to. ]
[ Unabashedly, she smiles at him, assisting in his... assisting, slipping the crossbow from her back, the belt with its sheathed dagger, the pouches with poultices and herbs and poisons.
When you have no home, you carry everything. ]
Do you mind? [ The leather armor isn't so cumbersome, really, but the buckles are all over the place... namely, at her upper back, and it's a little more difficult than usual with the night she's somehow made it through. ]
[ He motions to her with a spin of his finger and then waits until she does so to start working on the buckles of her armor from behind. When it is loose, he lets it slide down and away, leaving her in the simple tunic she wears underneath the leathers. it's still considerably less than normal, but he takes advantage of the moment to twine his arms around her, dragging her back against his own chest. The skin of her shoulder tempts him and he bends his head to press his lips to it, a whisper-light caress. ]
[ She sighs in relief as the leather plating slips away, rolling her shoulders which are, as usual, sore under the literal weight of the day. Not much later, she inhales sharply in pleasant surprise as he tugs her back, brushes a kiss over her skin. It isn't that it's a surprise, exactly, but her heart beats with more vigor nonetheless, her fingers curling around his hands, her neck arcing to allow him easier access to... well, the entire area. ]
Mm - I may have to lose my feet more often.
[ NOT that she'd done it on purpose, or... done it at all. But she can't deny to either of them how much she enjoys being in his presence, particularly when they have these rare moments alone together. ]
Maybe you could not lose them so far away next time, hmm?
[ He chuckles as he wraps his arms about her, turning his head so he can kiss his way up her throat, pausing to linger at the little dip beneath her ear as he nuzzles against her affectionately. ]
It wasn't as if I did it on purpose! [ She laughs, high and bright, beaming as he pecks affectionately at her neck. Her fingers curl further around his hands, breathing deeply, heart like that of a younger girl's in a flushed infatuation. ]
Maybe next time you might warn me sooner about having a drink with an Antivan! [ Honestly, Alistair, how was she supposed to know that that was a bad idea??
To her credit, Zevran could talk most anyone into anything. ]
Oh, yes. I'm sure that will work wonderfully. [ he rolls his eyes and then gives her throat a playful nip before abruptly spinning her around to face him again, catching her about the waist to steady her, just in case. ] Don't think I've missed the fact that he can coerce you into just about any bit of mischief with him.
[ She's certainly steady enough by now to stand without swaying (or falling), but she appreciates it anyway, arms moving to twine around his neck. ]
Not any bit! Really, you think so little of my willpower. [ After which she wrinkles her nose in displeasure, despite the bright smile that's still in place. ] I did talk him out of killing us, remember?
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Yes? [ Hm. He sounds close, relatively. She glances around, making little of what she sees in the darkness, then begins down the path again.
Maker, but she's had too much to drink. ]
I'm sorry, I think... after this, I ought to retire...
[ For shame, for shame of being a thoroughly difficult drunk! ]
>.>
Whoa. I've got you. You're fine. And yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea, I think. Are you hurt?
[ Maker. That was an even larger bear than the last three he'd come across. ]
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No, I mean - retire from the Wardens, I'm absolutely... [ She makes a little, discontented noise, trying valiantly to be free of his grasp so that she can prove to him (to herself) that she's capable of standing and being the Warden that
GothamFerelden needs right now. ]Not hurt. [ That wasn't what she'd been about to say, but it's important to let him know. She thinks suddenly of a river and some bridge, words stuck to her memory, and turns to frown at him. ]
But you aren't wet! I thought... Oh, I'm very out of sorts at the moment.
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You're absolutely not retiring from the Wardens. [ He informs her of this firmly and fondly, his hands on her hips as he steadies her, giving her a faint smile as he takes her in, reassuring himself that she's alright. ] That is not allowed. And if that was an option for every Warden who overindulged every now and then, there'd be none of us left.
What happened to you, anyway? I thought you were with Zevran?
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I didn't mean - Well, I was, yes, and he's... part of why this... happened.
[ She gestures mildly to herself. To the bear. ]
I'm not sure what, um, he had us drink, but I'm certain I'm never having it again.
[ Maker have mercy. She blinks up at him, innocent as you like. There's a spot of (bear) blood on her nose. ]
He tried to kiss the dog before he dozed off. Think he managed it, actually.
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[ He points this out with a wry smile as he gazes down at her, fond and bemused. At her motion, he takes in the bear and her own state of dishabille and cocks an eyebrow upwards. ]
Drinking with Antivans never ends well, for future reference. And considering you felled a bear by yourself with a bow while in this state, I think you've acquitted yourself admirably.
[ He lifts a hand to cup against her cheek, his thumb swiping at the spot on her nose to wipe it away. ] Here, you have a... I think a little mess is to be anticipated, considering.
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I would say it was about as difficult as taking out darkspawn unaddled.
[ Yes, that sounds about right. She nods firmly. He dabs at her nose, taking her face in his hand, and she raises her own to close over his. ]
I think it's more than a little mess. [ So kind, though, Alistair. Robyn smiles brightly, glad to have one person on her side, at least, if she exasperates half their companions regularly (or maybe it's just Morrigan). ]
My hero. I could never have lived with any dirt on my nose.
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He chuckles at her words, a faint flush creeping up the back of his neck when she smiles up at him like that, her hand against his a warmth he is all too aware of. ]
I'm sure you would have made do. You always seem to. Admirably, even. If either of us is going to show up looking like a bumbling idiot somewhere, I assure you, it won't be you.
Now. let's see about getting you back to camp and finding your feet, yes? Before any more bears find us first, hmm? [ He hums out, and there's only the briefest hint of mischief flickering in his gaze before he reaches down and scoops her up in his arms, cradling her carefully against his chest as he settles her there in an easy grip. ]
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[ And the feet, as he's said. She seems as if she's going to continue speaking in his defense until he scoops her up in one, fluid motion. Robyn actually gasps, disoriented, aware primarily that the earth has moved under her feet. Secondly, that he's taken her literally into his arms. ]
Oh - I can walk, honestly! I made it here, didn't I?
[ Mind, she isn't particularly far from camp; the dark woods had made it impossibly easy to wander in unsteady circles.
Once, Fergus had gotten so drunk (around her age, she thinks, hazily) that she had found him the next morning cozied up with a potted plant. She'd laughed herself silly and brought their mother to see before he woke, muttering curses, but smiling in admittance of his own absurdity.
What would he think of her now, how much she'd changed?
Her fingers curl around the corner of his plating. ]
You won't be able to do much about bears if you've got to manage me, you know.
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[ He keeps his tone light as he carries her back through the woods, because he suspects that this might still be quicker. Or maybe he just likes the feeling of having her in his arms, but he's not about to bring that up. ]
Just tuck in and get comfortable for a few minutes and I'll have you and your feet back in camp in no time, I vow it.
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Tuck in? If you aren't careful, I'll just nod off up here.
[ She hasn't been carried around since she was a girl; despite the hazy state of her head, she recognizes the moment between them and her heart flutters a bit.
Like a little girl's. Hang it all. I've been a complete child. ]
And what if we cannot find my feet, Alistair? How will we go on?
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[ He chuckles as he glances down at her, charmed by the little snarl she lets loose and oh no, that really is too adorable by half, now what's he supposed to do? Other than nearly stumble over his own two feet, which he narrowly misses and hey campfire, thank the Maker.
The camp is all quiet and still, most of their companions are sound asleep, although he can see Sten prowling around along the outskirts, as restless and intimidating as ever. He carries Robyn instead to her tent, moving silently before carefully setting her down on her feet once more, hands lingering until he was certain she had her balance. ]
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Well, he's enthusiastic, at least.
The campfire streaks through her vision in a warm flash and then they're in her tent. Robyn sways a bit as she's set down, not especially thrilled to be free of his assuaging grip, but she manages to make sense of the world in a way that doesn't involve her falling over again. ]
Thank you for all this. [ But, as people often are when intoxicated, she's struck by something she feels intensely compelled to say, something that bursts through the dam of her lips like floodwater. ] - I really will miss your company if you - when you take the throne.
[ The Landsmeet has been more than a strong focus in her mind, hence the drinking, hence the little, embarrassed outburst. She glances away, clearing her throat, face reddening from the ale, or... other things. ]
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Can we... not talk about that right now?
[ He was dreading it. Dreading it worse than facing the looming threat of the Archdemon. Archdemons he could fight. He was good at fighting. Having to take the crown...
That was more terrifying to him than a dozen Blights, back to back. Especially the thought of doing it alone. ]
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Of course. [ And there's the regret, bubbling up like acid into her throat. It's all so dammed complicated already; she needn't go around reminding him of how much more so it will be in a few days' time. ] I didn't mean- [ She makes a little dissatisfied noise. ] ... Yes. Maker, you've been so attentive, and here I am, being so very trying all night through.
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Part of me wishes we could just stop time right here. Not have to move forward. Too many things are changing, and so quickly I can't keep up. Changes I don't think I'm ready for.
[ Especially if it meant taking him away from her side. Not when it felt so right that he remain here with her. Like he belonged. ]
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I know. I feel the same. [ She misses her home and her family, hadn't even considered that she might end up a Grey Warden, but since then... this is the only home she has. Besides that, it's been wonderful, darkspawn and betrayal aside. She's an eternal optimist; their misadventures have been as much about traveling Ferelden and helping its people as its been nightmares and monsters. ] I can't say I'm ready for any of it, either. I've never been much of a politician, and a lot of it - [ She sighs, glancing down to think, dark hair tumbling over her shoulder. ] So much has been put upon us to decide.
[ And more will, if she has to shoulder Warden duties alone, following the fight with the Archdemon (if she even survives). So will he, if he has to rule the kingdom alone. It occurs to her with a little shock that it might be sensible for him to marry Anora, to unite the experienced ruler and the claim to the throne in wedlock.
Despite herself, despite all of her best wishes for the queen, her heart tightens at the thought. ]
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Don't think about it. It's still far away, or so I keep telling myself. Either way, it's not here now. But we are. We don't need to make any world-changing decisions tonight. Unless you really want to, of course?
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[ As she's asserted. She smiles brightly up at him, relieved that he doesn't want to talk about it; despite the fact that she'd brought it up, it had been a sort of unintentional reaction and, more than anything, she'd like to forget it. At least for now. They have this moment and a while yet before any real decision needs to be made.
She captures his stray hand, fingers curling around his. ]
We ought to, um - [ Robyn worries briefly at her lip, then sighs in a grudging sort of way. ] You should get some sleep, considering how much work you've been doing trying to keep me on my feet.
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It wasn't really work. Come on. Let's get you settled first, yeah?
[ Because he's not about to leave her on her own again when she might still be tipsy. Or prone to wandering out among the bears. ]
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It isn't much, as it's a tent, but a candle's shadow dances along the walls and across their faces once they stand within. Robyn looks up at Alistair, lifts onto her tip-toes and pecks him softly on the cheek. ]
I don't need much settling. [ Really, she just has to remove the weapons from her person and the outer armor; she's fine to sleep in her tunic and leggings. She glances toward the exit behind him, but she's unwilling to let go of his fingers in hers. ]
Then - I'll see you in the morning?
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[ There's teasing in his tone, husky with humor, but also an underlying sense of gentleness. Instead of releasing her entirely, his hands move to start helping remove her weapons, surprisingly adept at it, despite the fumbling awkwardness he was so often prone to. ]
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[ Unabashedly, she smiles at him, assisting in his... assisting, slipping the crossbow from her back, the belt with its sheathed dagger, the pouches with poultices and herbs and poisons.
When you have no home, you carry everything. ]
Do you mind? [ The leather armor isn't so cumbersome, really, but the buckles are all over the place... namely, at her upper back, and it's a little more difficult than usual with the night she's somehow made it through. ]
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[ He motions to her with a spin of his finger and then waits until she does so to start working on the buckles of her armor from behind. When it is loose, he lets it slide down and away, leaving her in the simple tunic she wears underneath the leathers. it's still considerably less than normal, but he takes advantage of the moment to twine his arms around her, dragging her back against his own chest. The skin of her shoulder tempts him and he bends his head to press his lips to it, a whisper-light caress. ]
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Mm - I may have to lose my feet more often.
[ NOT that she'd done it on purpose, or... done it at all. But she can't deny to either of them how much she enjoys being in his presence, particularly when they have these rare moments alone together. ]
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[ He chuckles as he wraps his arms about her, turning his head so he can kiss his way up her throat, pausing to linger at the little dip beneath her ear as he nuzzles against her affectionately. ]
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Maybe next time you might warn me sooner about having a drink with an Antivan! [ Honestly, Alistair, how was she supposed to know that that was a bad idea??
To her credit, Zevran could talk most anyone into anything. ]
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Not any bit! Really, you think so little of my willpower. [ After which she wrinkles her nose in displeasure, despite the bright smile that's still in place. ] I did talk him out of killing us, remember?
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[ His voice is all fond amusement however as he lifts a hand to tap a single finger chidingly at the tip of her nose. ]
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Is avoiding your own assassination mischief? You need to look over your priorities, Alistair.
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I meant more after that. Although I'm quite sure Zevran might refer to it as such, considering his sense of humor.
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Robyn releases his finger, planting her hands firmly on her hips. ]
Well, if mischief is the worst that befalls us, I'll be embarrassed for the darkspawn.
[ Really, though; they'd survived more than most people for being the ragtag group that they are. ]