Alistair (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bringspeopletogether) wrote2016-05-17 10:44 pm
bringspeopletogether) wrote2016-05-17 10:44 pm
[oom] Denerim
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.
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.
no subject
CJJ: If I DID get in a tavern brawl, I would have said as much, since I told you that I would confirm any correct guesses.
CJJ: Such as the part where there was, in fact, a tavern brawl involved.
Not that Cullen would admit this, but he's laughing, too. A little bit. It sounds kind of like a cough. Or someone's stomach grumbling. Wheezing?
CJJ: And if you're going to use my formal title, you really ought to throw my middle name in there as well.
CJJ: It's protocol.
CJJ: Especially if you're going to insist on trying to sound like my mother.
no subject
(More to the point, Alistair isn't actually sure he remembers Cullen's middle name.)
CQG: Besides, it's not like I'm scolding you
CQG: You're having fun!
CQG: Going to taverns!
CQG: Meeting exciting new people and fighting them hard enough to get an impressive scar on your face!
CQG: I'm so proud of how you've grown
CQG: And will also not stop laughing for the rest of the evening
no subject
CJJ: With the possible exception of 'having fun,' I point out that this is common behavior I have exhibited for years.
CJJ: However, since your blustering is out of earshot, cackle away, I suppose.
no subject
CQG: When things like "taverns" and "fun" were most certainly not on the table
CQG: And as I haven't yet lived through these mythical years you describe, Ser 9:37 Dragon
CQG: I stand by my pride at how much you've grown
While still laughing, Alistair's managed to get that laughter down to a more reasonable level: helpless snickering that doesn't need to be muffled by a pillow.
no subject
He then sends:
CJJ: Congratulations on growing out of the mouthbreathing, then, Theirin.
no subject
CQG: Rude, Rutherford
CQG: Immensely rude
CQG: No way to talk to a king
CQG: I shall do exactly nothing because you're living in Kirkwall in an entirely different Thedas, but I shall think about doing it at great length
no subject
CJJ: I am sending words to a king.
CJJ: Precision is very important, Theirin.
no subject
CQG: Imagine me heaving the sort of put-upon sigh that'd put Ci to shame
CQG: Just wait, next you know my device will grow a walkie-talkie button and I really will be able to talk to you
no subject
-- oh. The barefoot guardsman used one in Die Hard. Right. The little box.
Next thing you know, even the airplanes will make sense!
CJJ: If one can turn these devices on, one can also turn them off.
CJJ: Though I'll admit I'm hoping to convince the Seeker who recruited me to the Inquisition of their value.
CJJ: She went to the tavern one night. I figure it's all right to share it with her, if only for logistical reasons.
CJJ: I feel very certain that the two of you might murder each other.
CJJ: I cannot wait to introduce you.
no subject
CQG: I await my potential murder with great anticipation
CQG: ...I think
A yawn catches him off-guard. Unsuccessfully stifling it with the back of his hand, Alistair glances to the window; the stars number far greater than when he last looked, the tapestry of constellations considerably brighter. He thinks he can see the edge of Toth, if he squints.
CQG: Unfortunately, we'll have to save any murders for another night, as it's getting rather late here
CQG: And if I'm tired enough to sleep, I suppose I ought to try sleeping
no subject
Unwillingly, the corner of Cullen's mouth turns up, and it's not really all that happy. Reading into it -- well.
Not like he's never had a sleepless night.
CJJ: Of course. Glad you got this thing to work. I'll hope to see you soon in person, but send a message any time you like.
no subject
CQG: Thank you
CQG: I very much appreciate the kindness
CQG: Give Ci an extra belly rub for me
CQG: I'll see you at the tavern
CURRENT quondamGryphon [CQG] signed off.