Private Character Introduction: Alistair Theirin, King of Fereldan
Aug. 17th, 2015 01:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fereldans_king posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
fadewalk"Wait until morning, my lord. We can't just swoop in on them in the middle of the night, my lord. Pfft." Alistair shook his head, an exaggerated grimace on his face. "As if I didn't already know that swooping was bad."
Nights like this, he found himself missing the old days. An open field, a dark and starry sky, a trio of tiny, ramshackle tents, and the excited mumbling of Sandal in the distance. Not this silly, overblown affair - a small of army of tents set out in neat, orderly rows, two dozen dignitaries rushing about, and the endless stream of paperwork that found its way to the tiny desk some servant had set up inside his palatial tent.
Alistair chuckled briefly, remembering how much he and Cousland had wished for a larger tent. Always bumping elbows, knocking over armor stands, banging their heads on the crossbeam...who ever had decided to stick the two plate-wielding warriors in the same tent must have been mad...or must have had a very sick sense of humor.
Nowadays...well, it wasn't like he wanted to be fighting darkspawn or Archdemons again. They were quite welcome to stay down in the Deep Roads, doing whatever it is that darkspawn do between Blights. Bad enough the there were Tevinter spies in his palace, and giant green glowing tears in the sky hovering over his mountains...
Alistair sighed, and dropped onto the bed - too big, too soft, too empty (it had always been empty - Cousland had been off making eyes at Morrigan, Leliana was crazy, Zevran had been making eyes at Cousland...). He lay back, not bothering to change out of the day's clothes, and closed his eyes. Sleep where you can, Cousland had once said. Good advice, all around. "I'll take care of the paperwork in the morning. It won't spontaneously combust overnight."
"...I think."
Nights like this, he found himself missing the old days. An open field, a dark and starry sky, a trio of tiny, ramshackle tents, and the excited mumbling of Sandal in the distance. Not this silly, overblown affair - a small of army of tents set out in neat, orderly rows, two dozen dignitaries rushing about, and the endless stream of paperwork that found its way to the tiny desk some servant had set up inside his palatial tent.
Alistair chuckled briefly, remembering how much he and Cousland had wished for a larger tent. Always bumping elbows, knocking over armor stands, banging their heads on the crossbeam...who ever had decided to stick the two plate-wielding warriors in the same tent must have been mad...or must have had a very sick sense of humor.
Nowadays...well, it wasn't like he wanted to be fighting darkspawn or Archdemons again. They were quite welcome to stay down in the Deep Roads, doing whatever it is that darkspawn do between Blights. Bad enough the there were Tevinter spies in his palace, and giant green glowing tears in the sky hovering over his mountains...
Alistair sighed, and dropped onto the bed - too big, too soft, too empty (it had always been empty - Cousland had been off making eyes at Morrigan, Leliana was crazy, Zevran had been making eyes at Cousland...). He lay back, not bothering to change out of the day's clothes, and closed his eyes. Sleep where you can, Cousland had once said. Good advice, all around. "I'll take care of the paperwork in the morning. It won't spontaneously combust overnight."
"...I think."
