Alistair (
bringspeopletogether) wrote2016-09-05 11:03 pm
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[sandbox]
Herald's Rest gets as crowded as any respectable small-town tavern come nightfall. Considering Skyhold's a village unto itself nowadays, that's no surprise.
Maryden's holding her usual court over near the fire, her song weaving in and out of the noise: voices, laughter, shouts, clattering. Bull's there, towering over half the crowd even while seated, deep in enthusiastic conversation with Krem, but the rest of the Chargers don't seem to be anywhere near. When Alistair stands still, he's pretty sure he can hear about five different languages in a ten-foot radius.
He's nothing strange or remarkable in here. It's...nice.
And there's alcohol. Even nicer.
Maryden's holding her usual court over near the fire, her song weaving in and out of the noise: voices, laughter, shouts, clattering. Bull's there, towering over half the crowd even while seated, deep in enthusiastic conversation with Krem, but the rest of the Chargers don't seem to be anywhere near. When Alistair stands still, he's pretty sure he can hear about five different languages in a ten-foot radius.
He's nothing strange or remarkable in here. It's...nice.
And there's alcohol. Even nicer.
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That's quieter, as Alistair studies Cullen. He drinks a little more.
"Thank you for indulging me on this." Another lopsided smile. "I know you could've changed the terms of the bet."
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"I'll find a better place for you to take a break someday. Or at least a more tolerable one." Beat. "Besides your quarters."
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Innocently.
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Cullen isn't that self-flagellating.
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Beat.
"Unless you get good enough to start winning."
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"Glad you're enjoying this."
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A good laugh does not trump Cullen's abject misery.
"We could wager food. Or actual money. Or -- the loser has to train with Bull for the day, I don't know. Decent things."
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"Maybe," he allows.
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Cullen gets a gentle nudge on the shoulder -- not enough to upset his drink, fortunately -- before Alistair returns to his tankard. This is good. Nice and relaxing. He can still hear the crowd downstairs, but Cullen doesn't have to be in the thick of it. A good compromise.
(Especially since a familiar, raucous melody is rising above the noise. Sounds like the rest of the Chargers are back.)
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"I prefer the garden."
Much more quietly.
"Though I know that's... not ideal."
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"Even Morrigan has to eat sometime," says Alistair, with dry amusement. "And it's a nice spot."
If, occasionally, a bit too exposed for Alistair's usual tastes. He drinks.
"We can take a meal there next time if you'd like."
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Alistair examines his tankard.
"...Kieran's enjoying the books so far. I think. And I know I need to talk to her eventually if she doesn't come round and turn me into a frog first."
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Another drink.
"Him I trust to believe that changing a man's shape is always something to be avoided."
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Clearly, these deep thoughts require more alcohol. Alistair avails himself of it.
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"Ask Sera," Cullen says finally.
Mostly because he thinks it would be funny, and also Alistair probably wouldn't tell her Cullen told him to ask.
"She's the bee expert."
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"Maker, now I'm imagining Sera trying to trap Morrigan in a jar. Wouldn't that end horribly for everyone."
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Alistair raises a finger.
"Just knowledgable of Morrigan's temperament and drawing wild conclusions from there."
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