[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

[howtoactfereldan]

"And now you're calling me soft?"

His free hand goes to his chest, the better to indicate his immense shock and despair.

"I'm not sure I can handle such a blow to my confidence."

[bringspeopletogether]

"It's all right, Commander, I'll keep your secret."

After one or two tries, he manages to pat Cullen's hand reassuringly.

"I'll tell everybody you're the toughest and least pillow-like man I know."

[howtoactfereldan]

"...what a ringing endorsement."

[bringspeopletogether]

"That's what I could do to make myself useful," says Alistair, in tones of great enlightenment. "Write endorsements for everyone. Sera: once gave me pie that wasn't poisonous. Cassandra: once frowned so hard it did stick that way for ten minutes."

[howtoactfereldan]

"I'm sure that will win you many friends," Cullen says, after snorting. Loudly.

[bringspeopletogether]

"I'm a people person, it's true," he says, with sleepy contentment; his eyes are starting to drift closed again. "Besides, would you want to fight someone capable of frowning that hard? I wouldn't. I'm saying all kinds of nice things."

[howtoactfereldan]

If Cullen argues with that... one, Alistair is inebriated; two, all his counterarguments are total downers.

"Yes, they're very nice," he agrees instead.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Mm-hmm." Smug. Alistair yawns again, smaller now; he drifts into a quiet lull.

Within minutes, his expression's slackened into the mask of deep sleep, every breath slow and even.

[howtoactfereldan]

Note to self, Cullen thinks, if you want Alistair to shut up, tell him he's right.

He manages to restrain a laugh, letting his eyes close instead.