Slowly, Alistair looks up, eyes wide as he takes in the sight of the soup.
And the smell.
And the -- everything. Maker, he should've gotten soup. Why didn't he get soup?
His quill drifts to a halt midway through drawing a nug that bears a startling resemblance to Cullen. (He's getting better at them. Half of them aren't even stick figures anymore!)
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Slowly, Alistair looks up, eyes wide as he takes in the sight of the soup.
And the smell.
And the -- everything. Maker, he should've gotten soup. Why didn't he get soup?
His quill drifts to a halt midway through drawing a nug that bears a startling resemblance to Cullen. (He's getting better at them. Half of them aren't even stick figures anymore!)