fadewalk | RP: Open

Alistair had found a seat in the great hall, tucked off to the side and slightly hidden by the drapery, and had applied himself to reading the journal that had been gifted to him. Paperwork he might detest, but he had learned the importance of research - not just from reading the endless reports his advisers foisted upon him, but also from Cousland. The man had insisted on reading every book and slip of paper that they had come across in their adventures. Alistair had scoffed at him in the beginning but Cousland had proven how useful it was over time. How the man ever kept it all straight in his head was entirely separate matter of course...

He sighed, and paused for a moment - rubbed his tired eyes and stretched in his chair. The sky outside had not showed any change in lighting, still that ugly, roiling gray, and the buzz of magical energies grated on his teeth. He'd tried to sleep, briefly, but had given it up for lost. Now, though, he was beginning to feel the stress of it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and leaned back in his chair, his head bumping against the wall. Alistair went over the current situation in his head, trying to straighten it all out.

Two Cullens - one who suffered yet more demon-related trauma (poor man didn't deserve that), and another who's been exceptionally quiet. Three Dorians - whoever that is. Flirtatious man, by his writing. If Zevran were here, he'd would get along with any of them like a house on fire. A slew of people from some strange world without magic and flying ships. An elven woman named Sera, who Leliana seems to known, but isn't ours. Alistair's face took on a sad expression, tinged with frustration. Multiple Champions of Kirkwall and Heroes of Fereldan...but not my Hero of Fereldan. And no one else besides Leliana who would know me.

That was a slightly upsetting thought. There's at least one other me, though I haven't seen or heard from him at all. I can't blame him - I don't know that I would want to be confronted by whatever did or didn't happen to me, simply because Cousland wasn't...well, wasn't. He shook his head, but remained leaning back in his chair, eyes closed.

What a mess.

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Warden Alistair had taken the opportunity to read his journal at last, himself, and it was...well, odd. After a false Calling, an archdemon, a broodmother, talking trees and all the other madness of the Blight and the years subsequent, he had begun to believe nothing could throw him as being too crazy. But being caught up somewhere in the Fade with a bunch of people from across Thedas would have been weird enough, had there not also been multiples of people, and people from realities he couldn't even begin to hope to understand.

Rather than think about it anymore, he'd gone and wandered about the place. It was Skyhold as he remembered it, but largely empty and feeling...ominous. He wasn't quite sure what he hoped to find, or even if he wanted to find anything. It was unsettling, the way his footsteps echoed throughout the empty great hall, the bits of drying demon blood here and there testament to the battles these people had faced already.

He paused at the base of the dais to the throne, clasping his hands behind his back to look up.

"Well," he said to himself, voice also echoing, "it could be considerably worse, I suppose. There's no paperwork or pushy underlings to tell you you're doing things wrong, and Neria's here. Face it, Alistair, you might actually be enjoying yourself."

Alistair had heard the footsteps of someone walking in the great hall, but hadn't stirred from his chair hidden by the drapery, or opened his eyes. For at least a few more minutes, he could pretend there wasn't a strange world just beyond his lids, even if it had reasonably nice people in it so far.

It was strange enough to hear his own voice echoed back to me - he wasn't sure he wanted to open his eyes yet. But his mouth, as always, got the better of him.

"Well, at least we can agree that the lack of paperwork is nice. Somethings never change, no matter who the Hero of Fereldan supposedly is."

Alistair started, his hand going to the hilt of the sword he'd taken from Cullen's stockpile automatically. But it only took him a moment to recognize his own voice, even if it was rather higher than he'd imagined, and he relaxed, grinning.

"And here I'd begun to believe I'd seen it all," he called back, looking around with some bafflement for the other him. "But yes, how dare they, giving us things to do, asking us to lead. You would think they would have learned better by now."

"No one asked me to do anything. My Hero of Fereldan announced to the whole Landsmeet that I would take the throne and then looked at me with that blasted expectant expression of his."

He opened his eyes, finally, and gave the person who looked like him a once-over. This other Alistair stood more openly, held his shoulders a little higher, and had a few more scars on his hands and wrists. Alistair looked down at his own hands - fading sword calluses and clean, trimmed nails. He snorted in disgust.

"But I suppose we can't have done too badly - after all, we haven't been assassinated yet."

"Ahh, that one, yes, the one mine used to get me to do whatever it took to ensure neither of us died killing the archdemon. There's no resisting that look. I just thank the Maker she didn't also ask me to take the throne, because..." his voice thickened, "because...well, I wouldn't have liked that very much. You, though, you seem to have done all right."

He surveyed this other him, the king one, thoughtfully. The man did look like a king, as strange as that was - something in the posture of how he sat, the firm set of his shoulders, and the steadiness of his gaze. He hummed.

"Yes, you're very kingly, aren't you? Impressive. I wasn't sure we had that in us. Well, at the time, anyways. It can't be too much different from being asked to lead the entirety of the Wardens, just on a larger scale. I could probably do it these days, but then Anora would have my head, and my wife would be very displeased."

"I suppose that I didn't have as much reason to object to it as you did. I wasn't in love with mine. Though, Maker's breath, I can't even imagine the scandal if we'd had been involved..."

Alistair grinned lopsidedly at the compliment, and shook his head. "I'd like to say that I get by just fine, but honestly, I find that I am still making it up as I go along. I still have servants reminding me to 'sit up, don't stare at the duchess's enormous hat, eat more than an apple and some cheese in the course of a day, get some sleep'..." His tone started out self-mocking and sing-song, and eventually became tired and glum.

Edited Date: 2015-08-20 03:27 am (UTC)

"I can imagine," Alistair said dryly. "There was enough of a scandal with Neria and I, and that was after I'd abdicated the throne and sworn a forever oath to keep my heirs from it. Who are highly unlikely to ever be born, not that that swayed Anora."

He tilted his head as the other Alistair's voice became more sorrowful, and gave him a sympathetic look, wincing.

"I won't lie, that sounds...miserable."

Alistair smiled, a dry, brittle thing. "Oh, it's not all bad! All the cheese you can eat, and a new pair of boots whenever fashion dictates!"

He slumped slightly in his chair, and waved to one of the others, a graceful, courtly gesture which said 'Please, sit if you like.' It was obviously a practiced gesture - it looked odd, coming from him.

"I suppose it wouldn't have been so bad, if everyone had stayed. But Leliana was needed at the hand of the Divine and Zevran had personal business with the Crows, and Cousland had his next grand, self-sacrificing adventure to go on. I haven't seen any of them in...months. Almost a year, in some cases."

Alistair gave the other man an odd look, picking up on the awkwardness of the gesture. But he did sit, nothing fluid or graceful in the motion, just a sort of mechanical look to it as though he expected to have to put up with the inflexibility of platemail (which he was not actually wearing at the moment).

"That sounds familiar," he admitted. "Our merry band of Blight-stoppers all dissipated, too, and then of course there were the new Wardens Neria recruited for Vigil's Keep. That made things better for a time, being there with them and with Neria, but then there was the Cure to search for, and someone needed to stay behind, and, well, there I was, alone, with that damned song in my head. Not my favorite thing in the world, to be honest."

"Funny that Fate seems to think we are required to lead something in our lives."

"Neither is it mine. Blasted noise...have you noticed that it isn't singing here? No Deep Roads, no darkspawn, no Calling..." Alistair smiles slightly. "It's been a nice vacation from that worry, if you can call being unexpectedly dropped into the Fade a vacation."

Alistair laughed.

"To tell the truth, it does feel rather like a vacation for me, as...peculiar as that sounds." He made a face. "I'm not sure what that says about me and my current life situation. Not sure I want to know."

"Well, you are getting an unexpected opportunity to spend time with your wife, I hear." Alistair's eyes sparkled. "She seems like a wonderful woman - I can see why we fell in love with her. Though it must have been interesting, convincing the Dalish & the Circle to join the Warden forces. Cousland had a hell of a time beating them over the head with his noble-ness."

Alistair smiles at the other him. "I know we don't often listen to our own advice, but...Make good use of your time - I'm sure the paperwork will be attempting to sneak up on us again soon."

Alistair folded his hands in his lap and smiled fondly. "She can be very persuasive, my wife. A few well-placed words about necessity and the good of all, and usually a few follow-up actions to prove her intentions, and most everyone is falling over themselves to do what she wants."

He paused, cleared his throat. "That is my totally unbiased opinion, of course," he said with a smirk.

"In any case, I rather intend to. And you? What good uses of your time away from the burdens of kingship can we find, hmm?"

Alistair laughed, a open, delighted sound. "And of course, your totally unbiased opinion is all that matters, of course."

He looked thoughtfully, and then shrugged, a bit embarrassed. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I've been so focused on the balancing act that the crown demands that having all this free time...I'm at somewhat of a loss."

He grinned at the other Alistair's laugh, a smug sort of look settling over his features.

"Hm. Well, we'll have to do something about that, I think. I can't have the other me wandering about mopily because there aren't enough courtiers around for him to impress. I mean, I probably can, I just...I don't know, find myself with a vested interest in our wellbeing? That's odd, isn't it. Ah well. You know I used to think your reality, that of me being king, was my worst nightmare, the most terrible fate I could possibly imagine, and that was probably silly, but even still, I...here you are, improbably, and it's suddenly important that I might have been happy either way, which is unaccountably selfish of me, but there you have it."

He frowned as he stopped babbling, a crease between his brows. Then he nodded, just once.

"Trust me - I am quite happy to have exactly zero courtiers around to impress." Alistair's smile was brighter, as if the thought was exceptionally pleasing to him. "I think we're supposed to have a vested interest in our own well-being - though it's not as convoluted as this normally. But yes, let's find something for us to occupy ourselves - we can't get in too much trouble, what with your Lady Warden around to keep at least you in line!"

Alistair looked a little more somber for a moment. "Though I don't know that being King should being our worst nightmare any more. I'm given to understand that there is a third one of us, and that his life has been...harder than expected."

Alistair chuckled, but it was short-lived, his face falling at the mention of the third Alistair.

"Yes...Neria mentioned him. I believe she's spoken to him a bit. He - hm." He sighed. "To tell the truth, a future such as his never even remotely occurred to me. That the Hero of Ferelden should spare Loghain?" He shuddered. "Monstrous. I don't know what I would have done if that had been the case, but I expect it would have been something drastic. Fortunately for me," his voice turned cold, "she let me cut off the bastard's head myself."

"Cousland took that pleasure for himself, selfish bastard." The insult was said with a little bit of fondness, a little bit of grump. A long buried argument - he and Cousland had fought over that decision for days.

"I know that the Orlesian Warden...Riordan, I think?...tried to talk Cousland around to sparing Loghain...recruiting him into the Wardens to try and bolster our ranks for the future." Alistair shook his head, an expression of disgust on his face. "As if that madman deserved a second chance."

((OOC: Off to bed for me - continue with this tomorrow?))

Edited Date: 2015-08-20 06:51 am (UTC)

Alistair massaged his temple with the tips of his fingers.

"I mean, in retrospect, the man probably just wanted more fodder to throw at the archdemon in case things went south, and I can't say I blame him for thatsurvived? The man responsible for wiping out the entire order in Ferelden?" He shook his head vigorously and gritted his teeth. "It makes my blood boil just thinking about it, and it's been ten damn years."

(OOC: Sounds perfect! I really should go to bed myself)

"Well, if it make us that mad even 10 years past, I can only imagine what sort of recklessness it might have driven us to back then."

Alistair stretched in his chair, and then got to his feet. He held out a hand to his other self, a slightly mischievous grin on his face. "I'll bet you a sovereign that we both spend too much time sitting at our desks. Indulge me for a moment? One of things that I have almost never get to do any more in spar with any real enthusiasm." Alistair grimaced. "My guards are too afraid of hurting the King to give me a challenge."

Edited Date: 2015-08-20 03:07 pm (UTC)

There was a brief hesitation as Alistair stared at the other him's hand. It was one thing to meet himself, or a version of himself as he might have been had things turned out differently, and quite another to...touch himself. Which sounded dirty in his head, now he thought. He grimaced, and grasped the other Alistair's hand before he could talk himself out of it further, letting the man pull him to his feet.

A strange tingling sensation shot up his arm, but he wasn't entirely sure if that was a real reaction, or just an imagined reaction to how weird he felt about this. He shook it off, curling his fingers experimentally a few times when he let go of his own hand, and hoped desperately that the small amount of contact wasn't going to have some kind of bizarre backlash in the real world. Assuming they made it back to there at all.

"You want to spar with me?" he asked with some response, failing to keep back a grin in response. "I mean...I'm certainly game, but I don't know how well you'll like it when I kick my own ass. My version of our life hasn't afforded me much time to be idle."

His hazel eyes sparkled mischievously, the challenge evident in them despite his obvious teasing.

Alistair pulled his other self up out of his chair, an easy demonstration of strength undiminished by his time as ruler. As their hands touched, a tiny shock of static like energy ran up his arm. His head rang briefly, a soft mental vibration like a gonging, one he'd come to associate with positive magical energies being used on or around himself. Alistair shook his head to clear it, but was distracted by the implied challenge in his companion's voice.

"Yes, well, we're not exactly know for thinking things through, now are we? If I am truly as rusty as you think, I deserve the thrashing." He returned the grin with one of his own, and gestured towards the courtyard through the doors. "Since I foolishly challenged you, what say you pick our method?"

Alistair quirked a brow at the shake of the other man's head and looked thoughtful, but he didn't comment on it.

"Method? I'm assuming you're still a sword and shield type, or is that different too?" he asked as he headed for the doors. He squinted at Alistair. "Have you picked up some weird kinging method of fighting that I don't know about?" he asked suspiciously.

"Sword and shield is fine. I did once challenge Cousland to wrestle a darkspawn into submission, though I hadn't intended for him to take me seriously. Oh, one moment." Alistair ducked through one of the side doors, and was gone for a few minutes, before reappearing with a pair of wooden practice shields and blunted blades. He hoisted them, and gestures back the way he came. "Cullen appears to have collected anything that could have been used as a weapon, even if it would take someone of Sten's strength to do damage to someone with these."

Alistair shook his head, musing, "That must've been a sight."

He smirked a little at the mention of Cullen. "Yeees, he always was a rather by the books sort, wasn't he? Funny how he keeps showing up wherever there are great heroes of our day being raised up. I can't tell if he has the worst possible luck, or what."