Everything in the damned cabinet's immaculate. Of course it is.
Fucking Orlesians.
Alistair kicks one of the chairs hard enough to upend it. Just enough of the blinding fury dispels for him to collar the rest and drag it down; he braces both hands on the table, gripping the edge tight. Let the anger burn inward, he orders himself. Don't set the whole city on fire.
(Satisfying as that would be.)
He can hear Cullen's voice in his head: You're a soldier. Alistair breathes in, breathes out, as one hand clenches into a fist atop the table. A soldier, yes, just like Blackwall, just like he pretended to be --
He gives the downed chair another kick before dropping into the upright one.
no subject
Fucking Orlesians.
Alistair kicks one of the chairs hard enough to upend it. Just enough of the blinding fury dispels for him to collar the rest and drag it down; he braces both hands on the table, gripping the edge tight. Let the anger burn inward, he orders himself. Don't set the whole city on fire.
(Satisfying as that would be.)
He can hear Cullen's voice in his head: You're a soldier. Alistair breathes in, breathes out, as one hand clenches into a fist atop the table. A soldier, yes, just like Blackwall, just like he pretended to be --
He gives the downed chair another kick before dropping into the upright one.