bringspeopletogether | [oom] Denerim

[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.

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Cullen tilts his head.

Looks at Ci's ears.

Huffs a sigh, considering.

CJJ: The tannery.
CJJ: The kitchens.
CJJ: Surely not the brothel.

Cullen's imagination for terrible things could use a little more work.

CJJ: I know. You went to the Chantry to confess your sins.

CQG: Yes!
CQG: I rededicated myself after discovering they'd replaced all the brothers and sisters with mabari since I left
CQG: This one's heading up the celebration tomorrow
CQG: It'll all be very exciting

Yeah, he can't resist:

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

With a face like that, how could he?

Cullen is grinning. Ci blinks at the familiar-looking face on the screen, then nudges Cullen's hand. Not enough petting!

CJJ: I can't say I blame you.
CJJ: They might actually think about doing that if they want to keep the ones they're losing.
CJJ: You could break from the Orlesian Chantry. Start a separate Fereldan Chantry.
CJJ: If it's good enough for Kordillus Drakon, it's good enough for Alistair Theirin.

CQG: I just might
CQG: Replace every word in the Chant with something dog-related
CQG: Canonize Andraste's mabari
CQG: Every Tuesday you getklsjfadshnkbfa

Ci's new friend, not content with a mere nudge, knocks the device out of Alistair's hand in its quest to get as much petting as possible. He yelps; it trods on the handheld as it clambers into his lap, emitting squeaky yaps of its own.

A moment passes.

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

Thedas's third selfie (if you count both their Thedases as one) is Alistair getting a vigorous washing from the puppy's tongue, his face squinched up against the assault.

He has to stifle his laughter -- it won't do to have someone knock on the door.

CJJ: Put THAT one on the money.
CJJ: Much better candidate for palace art.

CQG: I'll make sure the engravers get right on that
CQG: And the painters
CQG: No reason we can't have more than one enormous painting of people making strange faces!
CQG: Also I seem to have attracted the attention of the other brothers and sisters

CURRENT quondamGryphon [CQG] has sent file "morepuppies.jpg"

This one looks a bit eerie -- the eyes of the mabari litter shine bright white under the camera's flash -- but adorably eerie. Because it's a litter of about eight or ten puppies doing their level best to swarm Alistair.

Cullen shakes his head quickly -- can mabari be possessed? Maker, he doesn't want to think about that -- and focuses instead on the swarming.

CJJ: Like giant spiders, they are.
CJJ: With more fur.
CJJ: Are you sure you want to entrust them with the souls of your subjects?

CQG: And fewer legs
CQG: And eyes
CQG: And desire to slice me to ribbons
CQG: All points in favor of their trustworthiness!

(By this point, Alistair's flat on his back, holding the device well out of reach of the puppies, laughing and vocalizing little "Help! Help!"s as the litter crawls over him.)

It is a shame that Cullen can't see this. He would never let Alistair hear the end of it -- at least until he died of jealousy. Then he'd probably never let Alistair hear the end of it from beyond the grave.

CJJ: I look forward to hearing of the first mabari Divine, then.
CJJ: I wonder if they'll ally with the Imperial Chantry.

It probably shouldn't amuse Cullen as much as it does to think about what Cassandra and the lot would do upon finding out Ferelden -- Andraste's birthplace, and there's nothing the Orlesians can do about that -- formed an alliance with the Black Divine of Tevinter.

Maybe once he leaves Kirkwall he'll feel less prone to blasphemy. Probably.

Alistair can respect that rationale for a haunting. He wouldn't even be mad!

CQG: No alliances
CQG: No politics
CQG: Just puppies and the very few bits of fun the Chantry has to offer
CQG: If such a thing exists

Color Cullen intrigued.

CJJ: What bits are those?
CJJ: To my own surprise, I find myself genuinely curious about your opinion.

Alistair blows out a breath, considering. (And lets out another tiny squeak as one of the puppies noses his ear. Stop playing with the strange glowing thing and PET THEM ALREADY, Your Majesty!)

CQG: I don't know
CQG: I mean

That's all he types for a moment.

CQG: Did Ysa tell you about the temple up near Haven?

He lets out a breath, tilts his head back against the stone.

Murmurs, under his breath, a prayer for forgiveness. Ci lifts her head for a moment, dark eyes watching, then settles again.

CJJ: A little. A long time ago.
CJJ: She said there was some kind of ordeal.
CJJ: And that when she reached the Ashes she felt the peace of the Maker's benediction.
CJJ: Though I'm fairly certain she'd object to my description.

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.

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?

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

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.

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?

"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?

"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."

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.

"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

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

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)

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?

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