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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"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."

"It was messy. If he hadn't already been a Warden, he would have contracted the Blight sickness for sure, the idiot." Alistair grimaced at the memory. That had been a particularly bad fight, and Cousland's jesting had not made the tension in the air afterwards any better.

"He seemed to have done well for himself in the Inquisition in my time...though it does appear that this specific Cullen has had a rough time of it." Alistair continued out the front doors and down the stairs to the courtyard. He walked several paces away from the stairs, out into the open air, and then held out a shield and sword to the other man, a challenging grin on his face.

Alistair hummed. "My Cullen as well," he agreed, "I spoke with him some on my visit to Skyhold. Though, yes, this one seems much worse off."

He met the other Alistair's grin with one of his own, taking the shield and hefting the sword in his hand. He gave it a few experimental swings.

"Right. So. First contact, best two out of three? Unless you have a better idea."

"No, first contact sounds like a good plan. I'm sure your Lady Warden will try to take my hide if I do any worse than that to you." Alistair squared off against himself, settling in the the familiar stance of a templar-trained shield and sword fighter.

He waited until his companion had settled into position, waiting for a nod of confirmation before he began.

Alistair chuckled. "Well, that could be - that is. Um." His brow furrowed and a sudden blush spread across his face and ears. "Let's just not test that theory," he choked out, deciding it best not to elaborate on that train of thought. Evidently he had been away from Zevran, and really anyone to enjoy his awkward jokes, for too long if the first thing to spring to his mind was beyond dirty. Well. This was just awkward.

To distract himself, he settled into position and nodded quickly at the other man, opting for a cautious circle instead of an immediate charge, to see what the King would do.

Alistair laughed to see himself blush - dear Maker, he really did turn red from his ears down. "Oh really? Sounds like that may be less unpleasant than I first assumed."

He followed the cautious circle, before darting in quickly, bashing his shield into the other man's in a quick, practiced motion. It was an obvious attempt to push the Warden off-balance - a test of the other man's strength.

Alistair pulled a face at himself.

He met the shield bash easily, one foot sliding back a step to brace himself, and then he raised his shield in return and twisted it to disengage. He stepped left and swung his sword at the other man, hoping to catch him with the flat of his blade while he was off balance.

Alisatir's own weapon whipped up and knocked the sword from its intended path. It swung back around, curving to come up under the man's shield, the edge of the blade turned carefully under. He was moving a little slowly, as if feeling out his own skills as well as the Warden's.

Alistair swept his shield down, hard, driving the sword away, and then lunged with his own sword over his shield, his own motions more swift now that he had noticed the King was doing the same sort of slow, feeling moves that he too had begun instinctively.

The realization made him grin faintly.

Alastair backed up, a smooth retreat from the Warden's attack, before pushing forward again, an overhead swing followed by another shield bash to the man's shield arm, the weight behind the shield increasing as he tried to push the Warden back.

His own face was split by a broad grin, a lively look in his eyes. "You had been saying something about beating my ass?"

The shield bash struck Alistair's own shield solidly, the force of it vibrating up his arm. He slid back a step and then twisted, stepped away, ducked, aiming a shield bash of his own this time at the King's ankles, followed by a swift sweep of his sword at the man's chest.

"Had to see how you would react to taunting, didn't I?" he said, cheeky.

Alistair jumped back, skidded in the courtyard grass, and recovered to parry the next attack with a little effort. He whooped, a loud war cry, and charged forward with hacking sweeps of his blade meant to startle and force the Warden on the defensive.

"And here I thought Zevran was the tease!"

Alistair had to admit the wild waving of the King's blade looked a little ridiculous, but then, the man was clearly good on the threat that his sweeping blade indicated, judging by the strength in him. He raised his shield over his head and charged rather than backed away, blade snaking out from behind the cover to whip towards the other man's midriff.

Catching the other man's blade on his shield and attempting to knock it aside, he grinned and did a decent(ish) approximation of waggling eyebrows. "Zevran is a good teacher, no?"

Alistair laughed aloud at the ridiculous impression. "Did he offer to teach you anything else? I know he certainly tried with me!" He caught the other man's sword with a down sweep of his shield, and a complicated twist brought his sword around to slam the Wardens shield back against him.

Alistair grunted, not used to the slam of a shield against him when he wasn't wearing considerably more armor. He took a moment to disentangle himself and then lunged in close, sticking one foot between the King's boots to tangle up his footwork while knocking his shield aside with his own shield and swinging his sword in a wide arc aimed at the King's side.

"Did I mention I am married to a rather fierce elven woman? Yes? She might not have your - our - hide, but she would most certainly have had Zevran's. Not that that - ah - stopped him from trying," he answered as he moved.

"Cousland thought it was hilarious, of course. Thought I was mostly sure Zevran was offering out of...oof!" Down and backwards Alistair went, his foot slipping on the grass as he tried to maneuver away from the Warden's feet. The sword swing aimed at his side just barely brushed his hair as he went down, sprawling in the grass.

After a moment, Alistair laughed, a breathless, happy sound.

Alistair swept his sword back around, lightning-quick, and then stopped it just above the other man's chest, and gave him an impossibly gentle tap right over his heart.

He grinned down at the King, amused.

"You know, you're quite more entertaining to spar than my recruits, other me," he said. He paused a moment, debating, and then impulsively turned and dropped down onto the grass next to him.

"In my experience, Zevran doesn't offer that sort of thing out of pity," he said, after a second to catch his breath, turning to study his face in profile. He did have a particularly impressive nose, didn't he? Hm.

"Entertaining because I'm decent or because I'm so awful. No, don't answer that. I know that I am more than a little out of practice." Alistair remained sprawled in the grass in an untidy heap - he was comfortable and relaxed. He undid the straps of his shield, and pushed it and the sword to where they wouldn't be in the way.

Alistair hummed thoughtfully in response to the Warden's statement, and shook his head. "No, more often he does it to see if he can get a rise out of the person. Everyone I. Our party was wrapped around Cousland's littlest finger...except for Morrigan. She crooked her finger and he went running." Alistair smiled fondly, wistfully at the memory.

"Morrigan...curious. She and Neria got to be pretty good friends by the end, but no finger-wrapping there. She did teach her how to shape-shift, though." He let his own shield drop to the side and set his sword down beside it. "Sometimes I wonder...after meeting the boy..." his voice dropped lower, became more serious, and then he shook his head. "Well. Pointless, that."

"So you never...I mean, there was no one?" The change of topic was a natural one, even if also very clearly orchestrated to distract from his previous line of thought. "I suppose I didn't really think about it before Neria. Certainly wasn't looking for love. It just sort of...happened. I have a hard time imagining anything else, to be honest."

Alistair raised an eyebrow at the obvious change of subject, but played along. He smiled, lopsidedly, and answered, "No one. Even Anora wanted nothing to do with me after what happened with her father, though I think Cousland might have briefly tried talking with her. There wasn't any time during the Blight, and there certainly wasn't any more time while trying to rebuild Fereldan..."

Alistair sighed. "And once the country was up and running, everyone in our little merry band went their separate ways. And who could I possibly place that much trust in, after everything we'd experienced. It seemed...wrong to put that sort of expectation on someone new."

((OOC: Alas, I am falling asleep. Shall we pick back up tomorrow?))

Edited Date: 2015-08-21 06:42 am (UTC)

"Anora. Pssh. I can't imagine marrying that woman. She's mildly terrifying, you know? She made her disgust for me very clear, all that muttering about how much I looked like Cailan. And, I mean, he didn't sound like the best husband, so I can't entirely blame her, but still. She has called me an idiot to my face on more than one occasion. Which I am. But I do prefer my friends to be the ones to call me that, not the widow of my half-brother and the woman who probably would have wanted my head to ensure her own reign had I not made it very clear I wanted nothing to do with her throne."

He twisted his head to look over at the King again. "You might have liked some of the new Wardens Neria has recruited. Well, I suppose your Cousland has recruited them in your world. It's a similar sort of bond as to what we went through during the Blight, if...a bit less intense. All that...king-ing," he wiggled his fingers, "getting in the way of the more important things in life." He tsked, the noise teasing, but the expression on his face rather sad, all things considered.

(OOC: Same here, lol. Sounds perfect! See you tomorrow)

"Then let us be glad that we both dodged that particular cannon ball!" Alistair chuckled. "If truly, all times and stories are possible, then somewhere out there, one of us has been stuck with the awful future."

"Cousland did pick-up a few new tag-a-longs after he was made Arl of Amarithine...I never had the opportunity to meet them in more than passing. The youngest Howe son redeemed himself, though. I heard about that from some Bard passing through - they made it seem all very dramatic and intense. His 'surly eyes flashing' and his 'righteous anger driving him forwards' and all that rot."

Alistair shuddered. "Yes, quite."

The King's description of Nathaniel had him curling in on his stomach and almost shouting with laughter.

"Ohhh, he would not like that," he wiped at his eyes, chortling. "Nathaniel is...hrm...surly is a good word for it, yes, though he's loosened up over the years. A bit. I came back from some Warden business to find Neria had recruited him and I can assure you, I was not keen on the idea at the time. But he's very little like his father, actually. Well, aside from the penchant for turning up his nose at marshes and being very fastidious about his boots. Nobles, you know."

"Maker spare us from nobles who don't remember that shoes are meant to get dirty." Alistair grinned at the Warden. "Not that I can blame him for the marshes - I remember well enough the stink and the sweltering heat."

He hummed thoughtfully, and then turned an eye towards his companion. "What was it like, falling in love with your Lady Warden?"