[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

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.

Comments

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair wrinkles his nose. "Please let him never write about the Fifth Blight," he says, and takes another gulp from his tankard. "I'll pay him not to do it. With...something. I'll find something."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I believe in you," Cullen says, solemn.

[bringspeopletogether]

Another huff of laughter, before Alistair descends back into quiet contemplation of his drink.







"I saw them in the Fade a few times." His forehead wrinkles. "I think it was only a few times. And it wasn't really them, of course. But..."

[howtoactfereldan]

Well. That's new.

Cullen waits, careful, to see if he'll continue.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Kieran I would've expected. Not Morrigan. But part and parcel, I suppose."

He drinks.

"Same as when everyone else from the Blight was there. Younger. 'No, it's fine, just a bad dream, Alistair. Sure, we haven't beaten the archdemon yet, but we're all here. Everything else is fine.'"

A shrug, largely untroubled; he looks to Cullen. "I'm pretty sure you said the same thing once or twice. Big crowd, everyone from Skyhold. You must've been in there somewhere. 'Everything's fine.'"

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen's gone a mottled pink and white -- like he can't decide whether to be alarmed or embarrassed.

"I -- "

What do you even say to that?

"Huh."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's gone back to staring down at his drink, thoughtful.




"I know you're real." Quiet. "I'm pretty sure you are."

It...might be a reassurance? Maybe? He knows Cullen's said everything's fine a lot since they got back to Skyhold -- it's important, abruptly very important in Alistair's mind, that Cullen understands he hasn't been saying the wrong thing.

[howtoactfereldan]

Well. This conversation suddenly devolved into a creepy ruined temple full of traps.

Tentative -- and he's stiffened, considerably -- he says, "Is there... anything I can do that would -- remove that doubt?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair shrugs again.

"Honestly," and a small, crooked smile reemerges, "that dressing-down you gave me after the incident with Varius did a pretty good job. If it hadn't been you, I bet I would've gotten a lot of 'no, no, it's all right, Warden Varius is fine, no harm done, here, have this magnificent cheese wheel I've hidden in my coat.'"

He rubs the back of his head.

More to himself: "...I shouldn't've asked for something this strong. Oh well."

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen huffs, amused despite himself. "At least that episode served some good purpose, then."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's smile grows. (It doesn't straighten out.) "Even if you didn't have a cheese wheel."

[howtoactfereldan]

"My coat won't fit one," Cullen says, with a straight face.

[bringspeopletogether]

"I don't know," says Alistair, gesturing to his neck, "maybe in the fuzzy bit."

Beat. He makes a face.

"Except then the cheese'd be covered in fur. Disgusting."

Alistair punctuates that by draining more of his drink.

[howtoactfereldan]

Cullen takes this opportunity to lean hard and with great prejudice against Alistair so the furry bits inveigle their way into his ears, and also the general vicinity of his drink.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Agh -- !"

Alistair tries to lean away, batting the fur out of his face -- at least, until he leans far enough that he has to grab hold of the stair for better balance. "I'm stealing your drink," he declares. "I'm stealing all of it."

[howtoactfereldan]

"You won't get that chance," Cullen declaims with great gravitas, and -- for lack of a more dignified term -- starts chugging.

[bringspeopletogether]

If Alistair tackles him, it's going to end with both drinks spilled. A better option is Alistair keeping his tankard out of reach and trying to hook his arm around Cullen's to pull the mug away, right?

Right. Completely flawless plan.

[howtoactfereldan]

If what Alistair was going for was making Cullen choke and spill what's left on himself, it's a great option!

He starts coughing; at some point it turns into hoarse laughter.

[bringspeopletogether]

Damn. No delicious pilfered beer for Alistair.

His tankard hits the stairs with a thump as he dissolves into snickering, one forearm pressed over his eyes. "I'll," he manages, "I'll get you another one -- "

[howtoactfereldan]

He'll clean his armor later, as he always does; right now there's no sense in fussing.

So Cullen flumps back on the landing behind them to stare at the rafters while he laughs. And coughs.

"You'd drink it all before you got here."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Not unless I get two of them." Cheerful, as he peers down into his tankard. "I'm nearly done with that one anyway. It'll be perfect."

(Aside from the fact that Alistair's half-drunk already, but never mind that.)

[howtoactfereldan]

"If Cabot will give you whatever it is he gave me," Cullen says to the ceiling. "I didn't ask for it. He just... pulled it."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Worth a try." He heaves himself to his feet, taking half a moment to steady himself. "I'll be back. Don't disappear on me."

Alistair navigates over to the stairs and begins his descent.

[howtoactfereldan]

"That would require that I move." Absent.

Not drunk. (Probably.) Just... tired.

[bringspeopletogether]

That gets another snort of laughter before Alistair disappears from view.

The tavern's growing more crowded by the hour; there are enough people milling around the bar that when he asks for two mugs of whatever Cullen just had -- putting on his best puppy-dog face in the hope Cabot might be swayed -- all he gets is a studious blank look. Damn.

The bartender's a reasonable fellow, though. "Something else strong that doesn't taste like drinking your own death?" asks Alistair, hopefully, and while that gets a snort and a you're the one who asked for that piss earlier, Cabot pulls out a bottle filled with sweet-smelling amber liquor.

"...Any chance I could relieve you of the whole bottle?"

"Nope," says Cabot, and splashes a measure of liquor into two glasses -- two large glasses, to his credit -- before sliding them across the bar to Alistair.

A sigh. "I'd say you're a cruel man," says Alistair, retrieving the drinks, "but I know you'd never serve me again."

Cabot smirks. "Damn right."

Alistair is just drunk enough that going upstairs, without a free hand to brace on the rail, takes rather longer than going downstairs. Luckily, he manages it without a drop spilled.