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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.
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.
