[oom] Denerim

[bringspeopletogether]

For the most part, Alistair's kept the little Trollian device secreted away in a locked chest. Before he hid it, he tested it to confirm it still worked inside the palace, fiddling with the buttons some more until he stopped turning it off whenever he meant to send a message. (Someone, somewhere, probably got very sick of seeing quondamGryphon sign on and off for thirty minutes straight.)

After that, his nightly routine gains a few extra steps: go to his room, lock the door, unlock the chest, blow out any candles, and curl up in his bed with the device in hand. Most nights, he doesn't send any messages; all he does is watch the flicker of names appearing and disappearing, the screen's soft glow providing the room's only illumination.

It doesn't feel so lonely when he does that. Just knowing he can talk to someone -- even if he doesn't end up pressing a single button the whole night -- eases a little of the pressure in his chest.

The instructions mentioned the device is a quasi-living thing. Maybe that's why the changes start: living things grow. All Alistair knows is sometime around the second week of his new routine, he pulls out the device, feels a smooth lump on its back that wasn't there before, and, with a frown, turns it over to investigate.

It looks a bit like the clear bubble holding the device's "food." It's smaller, though; it doesn't squish when Alistair prods it with a fingernail. It feels like a pearl, almost, embedded into the device's shell like a jewel stuck in a crown.

And there's a new button on the front when he flips it back over: red, printed with a circle inside a rectangle. Frown deepening, Alistair presses it.

The screen turns to glass.

Or that's what it looks like, anyway. All of a sudden, Alistair can see his knees, the floor, a bit of the chest -- hastily, swearing under his breath, he stabs the button again in the hope it'll undo whatever he just did. It doesn't. Instead, the image of his knees freezes in place, and a message pops up over top of it.

SAVE IMAGE? Y/N




What.

y, types Alistair after a long moment's pause.

NAME IMAGE: ______.jpg

...y?, types Alistair again.

IMAGE SAVED: y?.jpg




"All right, what in Andraste's name just happened," he mutters as he stares at the screen. Gingerly, he positions his finger above the new button, raises the device, and presses it again.

Click.

Huh.

Click. Click.

All right, whatever this is, it's...kind of fun.

Click-click-click --

Actually, it's downright remarkable, look what it's doing, it's -- it's painting little pictures --



CURRENT quondamGryphon [CQG] has invited amaranthineIdeopraxist to join private transtimeline bulletin board THEDAS

CURRENT quondamGryphon [CQG] has invited jackbootJudex to join private transtimeline bulletin board THEDAS

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

CURRENT quondamGryphon [CQG] RIGHT NOW opened memo on board THEDAS

CURRENT quondamGryphon [CQG] sent file "alistair.jpg"

(The file, when opened, has the honor of being Thedas's very first selfie: Alistair beaming uncontrollably, the image a little askew due to the awkwardness of taking a photo sight unseen.)

CQG: YSA
CQG: CULLEN
CQG: LOOK WHAT I FOUND
CQG: IT'S ON THE TROLLIAN DEVICE

It seems that in addition to finding the camera his device grew overnight, Alistair has also located the capslock button.

Comments

[bringspeopletogether]

CQG: It's an accurate one, though
CQG: I suppose "fun" isn't the word for it
CQG: But it was...nice
CQG: Ten minutes with the Ashes, and it's like I finally got what the Chantry was trying to explain to me for almost ten years
CQG: So keeping that part wouldn't be so bad
CQG: The peace, the joy, the...I don't know
CQG: That part

No politics. No bloodshed. Just Andraste and the Maker.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen lets his book fall on his lap and looks out the window for a moment.

He's spent a lot of nights beside this bed, and more in the Gallows, on his knees reciting the Chant, in hopes that the lingering nightmares will go away. Prayer's what he does when he can't sleep. When he's fool enough to beg mercy, even though he doesn't deserve it.

It's been a long time since he's felt what Alistair's describing. The closest he's come is the moment Cassandra told him that the Inquisition would set to rights everything that's gone wrong.

Perhaps it's wrong to let a Seeker carry his faith for him, since he can't. But there's no grand cleric, or revered mother, who can understand... everything, from the last ten years. But Cassandra Pentaghast lives by the sword, in service to Andraste and the Maker. And she tries to understand.






CJJ: I don't think we get peace. Not lasting peace.
CJJ: Andraste didn't.
CJJ: The Maker asks a lot of us in order for us to get those ten minutes.
CJJ: Cassandra says the Inquisition will fix what's gone wrong. That's our duty. But it won't bring us that peace.
CJJ: Which isn't to say that I disagree with you.
CJJ: It's more that we can only achieve that under extraordinary circumstances, and most of us never get it at all.

Well. That's a downer, articulating all that. Realizing how much he believes it. How tired he is.

CJJ: On a related note: when will we be drinking ourselves into oblivion?

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair huffs out a halfhearted laugh. One hand finds the closest puppy -- which happens to be curled up on his chest, waiting with far more patience than its brothers and sisters -- and settles atop its head, drawing his thumb over fur not yet coarsened by age.

CQG: Whenever next we see each other
CQG: Until then:

The puppy on his chest yawns. Click.

CURRENT quondamGryphon [CQG] sent file "yawn.jpg"

CQG: Contrary to the name of the picture, Brother Fuzzy is not yawning
CQG: He's yelling a blessing for you
CQG: He knows it has to be very loud to travel all the way to your Thedas
CQG: And if you would like a vacation to the kennels, I could probably arrange it
CQG: It's not the same kind of peace, but surrounding yourself with puppies comes a very close second, I've found

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen finds himself smiling.

And, for a moment, intensely grateful to Karkat Vantas. Cullen would keep all this to himself, usually; articulating it -- and knowing someone else has heard it -- helps more than he'd expected. And he doesn't have to leave his room to do it.

CJJ: Please pass my thanks to Brother Fuzzy.
CJJ: I will also admit that a visit to the brother appeals.
CJJ: I'll bring the drinks. We recently confiscated some smuggled Chasind Sack Mead that nobody will miss.

[bringspeopletogether]

CQG: Wonderful
CQG: I'll brush up on my hangover cures
CQG: Perhaps striking the time-honored "never stop drinking" one from the list
CQG: Pity, that
CQG: If Ci would like to attend services at the New Ferelden Chantry as well, she's also welcome to come

There can never be too many dogs at the royal kennels. What else is a kennel for?

[howtoactfereldan]

"What about it?" Cullen asks her. "Would you like to become a cleric?"

Ci snorts.

"You'd probably have to wear robes," Cullen warns.

Ci rolls over on her back and begins to wiggle. This is entirely silly, and he's so occupied with that book she has to scratch her own back.

CJJ: She'll join us, lest someone accuse me of neglecting her moral foundation.
CJJ: Raw eggs and some kind of Qunari spice are what passes for hangover treatment in Kirkwall.
CJJ: Let's try to come up with something better, shall we?

[bringspeopletogether]

"Eugh!" says Alistair aloud at the device, screwing up his face in disgust. There is no way to textually render what he's feeling right now.

Though -- they do say a picture is worth a thousand words, don't they.

CURRENT quondamGryphon [CQG] sent file "EW.jpg"

CQG: YES LET'S

"Your Majesty?"

"Gah!" Alistair snatches the device to his chest. The puppy protests at the jostling, nabbing the front of Alistair's shirt in its jaws to keep from sliding off; under the pretense of steadying it, he stuffs the handheld between himself and the puppy's belly, sets his other hand on its back, and cranes his neck to see who's turned up.

The upside-down face of the kennelmaster greets him, bleary with lost sleep and taut with extremely strained patience.

"Er," says Alistair. "Hello, Denton."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen snorts, and makes a note to himself to figure out a way to get the Chasind Sack Mead out of storage.

CJJ: You've got a better library. I'll put it in your capable hands.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Your Majesty," repeats Denton, his voice as weary as his expression. "I must recommend that the dogs be given time to sleep so their training will be easier to administer tomorrow morning."

"Right, yes -- " Gently, Alistair frees his shirt from the puppy's jaws, seizing the opportunity to slip the device into his pocket as they tussle. Sheepish, "And you also recommend the kennelmaster be given time to sleep, too, I'm sure."

"As you say, Your Majesty."

Alistair rolls over. The puppies scatter; he hauls himself to his feet. "I'm sorry," he says, a bit quieter, as he dusts off his clothes. "I appreciate your work, Denton. I don't mean to disturb it."

Denton only inclines his head. "Of course. Sleep well, Your Majesty."

"Yes. Er. You too."

He slinks past Denton, shoulders slouched like an admonished child. Brother Fuzzy makes to follow at Alistair's heels before Denton shoos him back; the kennelmaster eyes the king, eyes the puppy -- who's still straining to reach Alistair, voicing tiny, discontented whines -- and lets out an inaudible sigh as he shakes his head.

Alistair's a good two hundred yards from the kennels before he dares to take out the handheld again.


CQG: Well
CQG: Services ended a bit early tonight
CQG: I woke up the kennelmaster

[howtoactfereldan]

CJJ: I had no idea services could get that raucous.
CJJ: Now I'm looking forward to the pilgrimage even more.

[bringspeopletogether]

CQG: Just wait until they realize a foreign dignitary's in their midst
CQG: We'll wake up the whole palace
CQG: Denton may banish me to the Anderfels afterward, but it'll be worth it
CQG: (Denton being the kennelmaster)
CQG: (I'm never sure if he's always so cranky or just cranky around me)

[howtoactfereldan]

CJJ: We could find out.
CJJ: I spent a few weeks with Ysa in Amaranthine under a pseudonym to evaluate and train her forces.
CJJ: The crown could use a special mabari liaison to investigate, yes?

[bringspeopletogether]

CQG: Always!
CQG: Did the visit with Ysa go well?
CQG: Is her Thedas completely different from yours and mine?
CQG: When she says "darkspawn," does she actually mean foot-high balls of fluff that you defeat by aggressive hugging?

[howtoactfereldan]

JJ: I think so. Picked up this scar, though.
JJ: I can't speak for the entirety of Thedas, but it felt like the first proper meal I'd had since I left Ferelden -- like I remembered.
JJ: I'd like to be there when you ask her that question about darkspawn to see if she makes you cry, if that's all right.

[bringspeopletogether]

CQG: You know, I'd wondered about the scar
CQG: Did a recruit best you, then?
CQG: And if you're implying that an elven woman barely five feet tall could intimidate me to the point of tears, you...
CQG: ...well, you're probably right, but only because it's Ysa, not because all elves can do that

All right, Lyna probably could, too. But Lyna's not in the picture any more, is she.

Alistair sighs, stuffs the device back in his pocket, and continues the walk to his chambers.

[howtoactfereldan]

CJJ: Keep making things up. I'd like to see where you take this.
CJJ: If you ever come close to guessing, I'll tell you.
CJJ: If you can come up with an acceptable bribe, I'll tell you.
CJJ: And elves in the general sense have nothing to do with it.
CJJ: I'm quite certain Ysa could intimidate Andraste herself if she put her mind to it.

His brow's furrowed a little at that, but not much, and not for long.

[bringspeopletogether]

A handful of minutes later, Alistair's back in his room. In between shedding his shirt and trousers and changing back into his nightclothes:

CQG: Liranan scratched you
CQG: You got in a drunken brawl with someone over Ci's honor
CQG: An eagle mistook you for a turtle and tried to carry you off
CQG: A DRAGON mistook you for a slightly smaller dragon and tried to carry you off

[howtoactfereldan]

CJJ: One of those is closer to the truth than the others.
CJJ: To assist you in the process of elimination, no eagles were involved.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Hmmmm," says Alistair aloud, scratching his goatee as he eyes the device.

CQG: Hmmmm
CQG: So either dragons, Liranan, or a drunken brawl, eh?
CQG: My head wants to say Liranan, but my heart wants to say dragons
CQG: Perhaps I'll flip a coin

(Because considering Cullen's temperament, a drunken brawl actually seems slightly less likely than being carried off by dragons.)

[howtoactfereldan]

JJ: Liranan is too well-mannered.
JJ: Also, you leave out the possibility of a turtle being involved.

This is... more fun than he'd expected, playing a guessing game. Who has Cullen turned into?

JJ: And while I'm at it, Ci didn't do it, either.

[bringspeopletogether]

CQG: I see, the TURTLE mistook you for a dragon and tried to bite you
CQG: So no Liranan
CQG: Or Ci
CQG: Hm
CQG: Was the drunken brawl to defend someone else's honor?
CQG: Cullen Rutherford, is there someone you're not telling me about??

If Alistair knew about emoticons, he'd be punctuating that last sentence with about twenty :D faces.

[howtoactfereldan]

Well...

No. Whatever it is he's got going on with Knight-Lieutenant Merial --

-- you know, the thing where she shows up at his quarters after Vespers telling him they have to change guard rotations and no, it can't wait, at which point she moves past him into his room and they don't actually talk about guard rotations --

-- doesn't count. Not that it's not pleasant, but it's also not what Alistair means. That's what Cullen's telling himself, anyway.

CJJ: I imagine that the advantage of however many years it is between where I am and where you are means that I have broadened my circle of acquaintances beyond your expectations.
CJJ: You'll have to try harder than that.

[bringspeopletogether]

CQG: Cullen!
CQG: I'm SCANDALIZED
CQG: I don't know if I want all the details or none of them
CQG: No, wait, I've decided I want none of them

ANYWAY moving right along.

CQG: I also notice you haven't denied the drunken brawl part
CQG: So unless there really was a turtle or a dragon involved
CQG: I am even further scandalized!!

And doing his level best not to cackle so loud that he alerts the servants to any oddities.

[howtoactfereldan]

CJJ: All right, since you were specific:
CJJ: Yes. A drunken brawl occurred at some point in this story. That much I will confirm.
CJJ: I might point out that the possibility exists that I was an innocent bystander.
CJJ: Bydrinker?
CJJ: Bysitter?

[bringspeopletogether]

Good thing that Alistair blew out the candle at his bedside before reading those messages.

CQG: But only the possibility??

He's half buried his face in the nearest pillow to stifle his cackling, which, by now, is so strong that it threatens to impede his typing.

CQG: SER CULLEN RUTHERFORD GOT IN A TAVERN BRAWL
CQG: THIS IS THE BEST NIGHT I'VE EVER HAD
CQG: THANK YOU MAKER FOR THIS PRECIOUS GIFT YOU'VE BESTOWED UPON ME