[sandbox]

[bringspeopletogether]

The letter he finally sends is maybe a little more impolitic than it ought to be, but if he doesn't send something now, he'll still be writing when his Calling arrives.



Fiona,

Ivette Cousland is looking for you. The name might ring a bell. Hero of Ferelden? Slayed the Archdemon some years ago?

Anyway. She's not having any luck, so I thought I'd try my hand at getting in touch.

Cousland's been searching for a cure for the Calling these past five years or so; she even retired as Warden-Commander of Vigil's Keep so she could pursue her research better. She knows your leaving the Wardens wasn't like mine. You didn't just walk away from Weisshaupt: you managed to un-Join somehow, with no ill effects. You're our last, best lead on the matter, so you can understand why she's rather eager to speak to you. It's very likely she doesn't have much time left, what with it being almost a decade and a half since her Joining and living through a Blight.

Frankly, I don't expect I have much time left, either.

Cullen and I are in South Reach these days. I'll always know where to find Cousland, if you'd rather speak with her directly. For all our sakes, I hope you'll be in touch.

--Alistair





Two weeks later, a raven knocks its beak against their window frame.

This is a matter best discussed in person, says the note attached to its leg. I can be to South Reach by the end of the month.

It's signed only with the letter F. Alistair spends the next few hours talking up a nervous storm, hands digging in his hair, half anxious, half furious. (This is exactly what he didn't want: for her to read this as an overture. For her to think she could have any claim to Alistair's time, Alistair's space, outside of giving him and Cousland the information they needed.)

Then he writes a letter to Cousland and sends the raven on its way.

Comments

[highnever]

"A pleasure." Ivette bows to Gru -- and then moves to Alistair. "Come here."

She heard, about the whole... Fade... thing.

[bringspeopletogether]

Gladly.

He meets her halfway, sweeping her into a fierce embrace. (It's been too long.) "Maker, it's good to see you," he murmurs. "How are you?"

[highnever]

"Exhausted," she mumbles. "Got in too late last night. But I'm here."

She barely restrains herself from fisting her fingers in the back of his shirt.

"Like you."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Yes." A tiny smile. "All settled down and everything."

Ivette gets one more squeeze.

"Have you eaten? Or if you need to sleep more, we've a few extra bedrolls around -- "

[highnever]

"Maker, don't tempt me." Ivette pulls away, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. "Though I suppose it might give you the chance to review my notes."

[bringspeopletogether]

"It could." He grins, crookedly. "And you'll have peace and quiet. Fiona's not here yet and Cullen's working at the Rutherford farm all day."

(Thank the Maker Fiona's not here yet.)

[highnever]

Ivette is far more interested in this latter piece of information.

She eyes Alistair with affection, but also amusement.

"You," she accuses, "are domesticated."

[bringspeopletogether]

"Am not," says Alistair, with all the dignity he can muster, as he turns for the front door. "I'm retired, thank you."

[highnever]

"Retired and domesticated." She pulls her pack off of her horse, shoulders it, notes the convenient trough next to the post, and follows. "They're not mutually exclusive, you know."

[bringspeopletogether]

"I'll insist that I'm not properly domesticated until I can make a decent loaf of bread." Still airy, as Gru galumphs ahead of them into the house. "And since there's no danger of that happening anytime soon..."

As evidenced by the latest minor disaster on the kitchen table. (An edible disaster! But still a disaster.)

[highnever]

"...I was never trained in bread," Ivette points out, trailing after. "And I was raised to be domesticated."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair affects a look of horror.

"Oh no. It's true then. You're right. Quick, I need a sword and at least sixteen hours of hard labor -- "

[highnever]

"This is my punishment," Ivette says, pained, "for coming here instead of visiting Highever."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's expression softens away from the humor, toward something quieter, more earnest.

"You know I do appreciate you coming here."

[highnever]

She shifts her pack on her shoulder, uncomfortable. Glancing away: "Yes, well, it's not as though Amaranthine would be a good place to do this."

[bringspeopletogether]

He exhales a humorless laugh. "For an entire mountain's worth of reasons, yes."

Alistair rubs the back of his head.

"I'm sorry if I'm not -- entirely myself. If I talk too much or my pacing three thousand laps around the house starts to drive you mad, just yell at me and I'll go do three thousand laps around the market instead. Or something like that."

[highnever]

Ivette gives him a startled look -- and then covers it up by just... unslinging her pack and setting it down against the wall. If Alistair won't tell her where to put it, she'll make a place.

And then she straightens and asks him, calm:

"Is it left over from the Fade?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's mouth twists a little. He nods.

"Nervous habits." He scratches his elbow. "I need to -- move if it gets to be too much. It's better," he adds hastily. "Much better than it was. At least I'm not pulling knives on every shadow I see?"

He tries to keep the last bit lighthearted. As lighthearted as he can.

[highnever]

Ivette looks thoughtful for a moment, then shrugs a shoulder.

"If you'd like company on those laps..." Half a smile. "Need to stay in condition."

She's not very good at comforting people, she knows.

[bringspeopletogether]

Easy to see what she's trying to do all the same.

Alistair returns the smile, somewhat more fully-formed than hers. "Of course," he says. "I'd never mind company."

Then he hesitates, the smile dimming.

"There's, er. Something else you ought to know as well. It can wait until after you've slept if you'd rather, though."

[highnever]

"I slept last night." Staunchly, as she folds her arms. "At least a little. What is it?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Of course.

(Maker, but he's missed her.)

"Welllll..." He's trying so hard not to fidget, with mixed success. "It's how I was able to find Fiona. When you couldn't. We met when I lived at Skyhold, that's the obvious part, she was there under Inquisition protection as part of the mage alliance and -- anyway."

He puffs out a breath.

"It's more than that. I couldn't put it down to paper or I would've told you sooner. She's, ah. She's my mother, it turns out."

[highnever]

Ivette stares at him.

(Her mouth has literally dropped open. Not far, but.)

[bringspeopletogether]

"Yes."

Another crooked, rueful smile.

"That was my reaction, too. Only with a lot more furious yelling. We -- didn't part on speaking terms, to say the least."

[highnever]

"No," Ivette manages, faintly. "I suppose you... didn't. Alistair -- "

She tries to say something, and then fortunately engages her brain-to-mouth filter.

(Something about how there weren't ever any rumors about Maric and a mage, much less a notorious one. A notorious one!)

"Right. Yes. Well. That's -- something I know, now. What does this mean for -- " She waves a hand. "What's coming?"