Alistair (
bringspeopletogether) wrote2018-06-23 09:32 pm
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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.
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.
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"And all I want to say to her are the angry bits." Quiet. "Maybe I should, maybe if I get it off my chest it'll help, but it's just as likely it'll make things worse, isn't it."
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"Maybe wait until she's done all she can for us. But then... why not?"
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"Yes, let's not ruin over a decade of Ivette's hard work by making Fiona take her spells and go home right as we're getting somewhere."
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"What would I do without you," he mumbles.
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"Thereby muddling along at somewhat worse than fine, from my stomach's perspective."
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"I'm not as young as I used to be, Cullen."
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(And ruffles Alistair's hair. A little.)
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"There you are, then," he says. "I have young Master Cullen to handle all the excess cheese, my ancient guts will be just fine."
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"I'll set it on fire."
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"You'll toast all that cheese just for me? How generous."
(He's struggling not to laugh.)
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He squeezes Cullen.
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Then, softly: "Better now?"
He would like some tea. Maybe. And not that he'd ever accuse Alistair of procrastinating, but...
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He punctuates that with a brief kiss before unwinding himself from Cullen.
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(He does keep hold of Alistair's hand.)
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Surely they'll be done by now and he won't have to hear all the gory details repeated and discussed ad nauseum.
With his own tea in hand, he nudges open the door with his elbow.
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Lightly enough:
"Given everything, it seems likely that we should ask Morrigan to join us. Would you like to contact her, or shall I?"
(She's betraying nothing with her expression.)
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He glances to Cullen.
"Cullen had a few ideas for others we could contact as well -- people who might know a thing or two more about Blight magic."
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No louder than Alistair:
"The Inquisition's arcanist made a study of blighted lyrium. Should we need something fabricated, she'd be the one to ask."
Pause.
"And our comrade Dorian Pavus was recently raised to the Magisterium, in Tevinter. He's well positioned to make inquiries in the Tevinter Circles and in their archives. I can also write to the Inquisition's former ambassador for the same thing, but Dorian would be the safer choice."
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Ivette gets a fond, far-away half-smile. "Of course. Suddenly I don't mind running all around Lake Calenhad to secure her permission to study."
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A beat.
He adds, "And I'm certain Dorian would be deeply offended if I didn't also mention his brilliance, so yes, he's brilliant as well."
Fiona remains silent, but one corner of her mouth twitches upward at that.
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