Alistair (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bringspeopletogether) wrote2016-10-15 09:00 pm
bringspeopletogether) wrote2016-10-15 09:00 pm
[milliways] conversations with dead people
It's been a long day, and Alistair's only tried to drag it longer by bringing the evening reports into Milliways. The survey's moving along at a remarkable pace, but what it's finding...isn't good. He's shaded in too much space on the map of Ferelden that marks off the blighted lands. Families are still sick and starving, people are still stranded across the Waking Sea -- and there may be nothing to do but wait until the land heals on its own.
(It's early yet, he tells himself. The Blight's only eight months gone. They will find a way to bring Ferelden back to her full health and bring her people home.)
Fuzzy's dozing at his feet. Alistair's eyelids have begun to droop. Surely it won't hurt if he puts his head down for a moment; time stops here, after all, which is why he brought the reports to the tavern in the first place. A nap may even help him clear his thoughts a bit.
Hopefully he won't snore too much.
(It's early yet, he tells himself. The Blight's only eight months gone. They will find a way to bring Ferelden back to her full health and bring her people home.)
Fuzzy's dozing at his feet. Alistair's eyelids have begun to droop. Surely it won't hurt if he puts his head down for a moment; time stops here, after all, which is why he brought the reports to the tavern in the first place. A nap may even help him clear his thoughts a bit.
Hopefully he won't snore too much.
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He shakes Alistair gently, as if to drive his words home.
"Perhaps we find it too easy to sacrifice, we Wardens. Your Lyna certainly learned that lesson well."
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"It's not fair of me to wish she hadn't, is it."
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He tries to be kind, does Duncan. But decades as a Grey Warden has left him mostly unfit for it.
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"I've missed you too." Barely audible. "The whole time, I kept...thinking of what I might tell you next I saw you. There's so much I wanted to ask you. We muddled through all right, I mean, we had to, we did stop the Blight and all that, but I just wish -- "
He's gesturing a little, with each word, like he's laying them down in front of him.
"That you'd been there."
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"Which is more blessing than many get, with their dead."
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He meets Duncan's eye.
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"It covers what's past and gone, yes. What is still to come -- I'm glad to have even seen this much. You're a good man, Alistair. Trust that I have always believed in you, and would yet, if I were alive to do so. Your sacrifice shall not be forgotten."
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"Nor yours," he manages -- and in lieu of being able to say anything else, Alistair pulls Duncan into another fierce embrace.
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Two.
"Not by those who matter."
And then --
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Alistair opens his eyes to find Fuzzy inches away from him. The mabari's hefted himself onto the chair next to Alistair, front paws on the table as he peers down at his person. When Alistair doesn't move, Fuzzy whines and tries to stick his nose in his ear again.
Oh.
Still creaky with sleep, Alistair pushes himself up. Fuzzy scoots closer and starts licking his face, scattering a few reports as he goes. Alistair doesn't have the heart to push him away. His face is plenty damp already, anyway.
Just a dream. Right, then.
He sniffs, and rubs his shirtsleeve over his face once Fuzzy's done. The reports are -- no, they're not getting finished tonight. He's in no state to keep working. Back to the palace for now; he'll try again tomorrow.
As he sweeps the papers together, his fingers brush over a gouge in the table. It looks quite fresh.
Alistair's positive it wasn't there when he sat down.
As careful as if touching a dagger's edge, he runs his thumb over the mark, back and forth -- and breathes, and breathes, and breathes.