[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

[bringspeopletogether]

"Oh, dear, it is?" With mock-dismay. "I learned all the wrong things at Inquisition Domestication Camp. Next you'll tell me nobody drinks tea anymore and I'm supposed to be boiling twigs every morning."

[highnever]

"That's what tea is, Alistair." Ivette digs in her pack, pulls out a slightly weather-beaten leather-bound tome carefully wrapped to prevent loose pages from falling out. "Here." And tosses it in his direction.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair catches the book, easily, and untucks one corner of the wrapping for a closer look. A low whistle follows. "Yes, this will definitely keep me busy for the rest of the day. Thank you."

(Assuming he can sit still long enough. Well, he supposes he can read and walk at the same time, should it become necessary.)

He looks up at Ivette. "Enjoy your nap. I'll be sure to have only the finest boiled twigs ready when you're up."

[highnever]

"Can't wait," she says dryly, shoulders her pack, and saunters out the door. The stable will do, if she can't find a nearby tree.

[bringspeopletogether]

...Tea might not be a terrible idea, actually, He can't walk, read, and drink tea all at once, so if he has a cup to nurse, maybe he'll stay in one place.

Alistair hangs the kettle over the fire and takes a seat at the kitchen table, cracking Ivette's book open.

There's a lot to get through. Maker willing, he'll be done by dinnertime.