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 Vent Away My Friend, Alistair | 4 August 9:41
played by Angel
CST    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GWarrior
A34
AHighever
P13 posts

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Vigils Keep had begun to be her second home. It was a nice change from the bustle of Highever. Here she was surrounded by warriors, not women in petticoats gossiping about Mary and her three husbands. The only gossip here was how Frank killed twenty darkspawn with one hit. It was gossip that she could get behind. Teasing men about their overcompensation was one thing that she lived for. Of course, she had toned it down some since she was forced to delve into politics more, but occasionally she was able to let go and be herself.

Slowing her horse by the front gate, Freya felt the gelding shudder under her, shying away from the massive gates she had rode through many times. It was quite apparent a moment later why. The twisting, glowing mass of green light that rested in the main courtyard. Maker's Balls, there was one here too? No wonder Alistair needed her urgently. No doubt the nobles were climbing out of their skin because of this. Patting the gelding's neck, she murmured encouraging words to him before urging him forward. A deep growl sounded next to her, and she glanced down briefly to the mabari at her side. The protective way his hackles raised as they approached the rift made her smile and she whistled sharply to draw his attention from it.

"They have it under control, Maric," she spoke low. And it was true. Several wardens seemed to be stationed around the rift, keeping an eye on anything that may come out of it. Freya wondered why Alistair hadn't contacted the Inquisitor over this. Or maybe he had, but the inquisition was fairly busy and the Inquisitor couldn't be everywhere at once.

Stopping at the stable, Freya swung her leg over to hop down from the stable. The man in charge of the stable took the reins from her, and she patted her horse on the neck briefly before she turned to the man. ”Is the commander in his office?”

”Yes ma’am, I believe so.”

Freya nodded her head, grabbing a satchel out of the saddle bags before she turned towards the Keep. Maric bounced at her heels happily. This was the first time she had actually brought her hound with her and she had no idea how Alistair was going to react to his name. Probably laugh and she'd have to hit him. She was a young kid at the time, and he needed a good kingly name, Maric seemed a good choice.

It took her less time this time to find the Alistair's preferred place of work, and she knocked on the door briefly before pushing it open. Leaning inside, she raised a brow at him.

”Miss me? I come bearing gifts.” Her “gift” was a bottle of whiskey that she pulled from her satchel as she approached the solid wood desk he was behind. She set the bottle down before sitting down across from him and propped her feet up on the corner. Maric laid down at her feet with a low groan, stretching out on the stone floor.

ALISTAIR THEIRIN
played by DIANA
EST    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GWarrior
A38
Agrey wardens
P9 posts

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Ink spread for miles across the pages of parchment, an endless set of immaculate, rolling cursive and handwriting that he was tasked with reading. The opening of rifts across Ferelden had left him with an even larger workload than before, letters pouring in from various irritated sources as though he could close them with a wave of his hand. He was no Herald, but he supposed that the repetition of fighting against the demons would be good enough practice. There was only so much to learn from sparring and training dummies.

But he could feel himself falling out of habit with every swoop of his quill. He longed to spend more time on the field, even doing a job as seemingly boring as watching over a rift would be better than what his current predicament seemed to be. Letters needed to be written, the Inquisition needed to be contacted, and the Wardens were growing restless. They could go out on small tasks, keep their hands busy while the world seemed to be unraveling around them. He, on the other hand, was left to the mercy of politics. It was precisely the life he'd worked to avoid, but as he sat at his desk he could only be teased with the thought that he would spend the rest of his life chained to his desk.

Plus, the people of Ferelden picked a very convenient time to suddenly remember that he had a hand in the Blight. It was as though because he could fix the impending darkspawn problem, he could fix any problem. All he had were unfortunate refusals, disappointment spreading by the masses. Even Nolani couldn't punch her way out of the predicament at hand.

At some point he'd ended up with his shoulders propped up on his desk, quill in ink, face submerged in his hands. It was an attempt at rest -- though completely in vain. There was no ounce of relaxation in his current state, with his desk something of a visual metaphor for how his mind was currently organized. As time progressed the various letters became more strewn, haphazardly piled in no particular order; Warden Commander this and Warden Commander that peeking out of every opening possible. Demons were pouring out of the sky and he only had so many hands to spare.

The door knocked and he gave no signal for entry. Anyone high enough in the chain knew that a closed door was about the same as an open one, and that there wasn't exactly a good time to disrupt his train of thought. It was the voice that made him perk up, though, unfolding himself from a look of pain into an overly exasperated look that simply read as, 'help me.'

"Tremendously," he'd taken quick note of her whiskey, and responded in rising from his seat to grab two glasses for the both of them. Alcohol was relaxing. Staring out his window at the green gash in the air was not relaxing. "I need a break anyway. I've been staring at these things long enough to drive a man mad." He'd thrown his arm out in a flourish of disgust, frown carved deep into his features.

"How do you do it, Freya? How do you keep yourself from getting exhausted?" Was there some trick that he hadn't been let in on, or did Nolani just leave him in what seemed to be quite possibly the worst predicament imaginable? "I feel like everyone's watching me, to see if they should go screaming for the hills or just accept their fates."
played by Angel
CST    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GWarrior
A34
AHighever
P13 posts

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Freya truly felt sorry for the man. A bastard with no training suddenly thrown into a role of power he never expected to have. Though she supposed he should thank his lucky stars that he was not chosen to be king. Dealing with the people of one Arling was easy compared to the rule of a whole kingdom. Still, it was still taxing and it was something she could understand.

The pathetic look of desperation that crossed his face as he looked at her almost made her laugh and she had to choke it down as to not make him feel even worse. Freya followed his movements to retrieve two glasses with her eyes, eyebrow arched slightly in amusement. Drinking was not a proper thing for a lady, her mother had always told her. At least not the hard, burning liquid such as whiskey. Wine was the preferred drink of a lady, and Freya could distinctly remember telling her mother that if she wanted grape juice she would go eat grapes. The memory made her chest tighten but she hid it with a grin.

"Well, normally Fergus deals with many of the noble. Not that he is making them exceptionally happy at present." The Chasind being in their walls, being at her brother's side, it was causing problems on the home front that eventually would come to a head. She herself found then fascinating, but she understood the people's hesitance.

Picking up the bottle of whiskey she poured them both a glass, making sure to fill Alistair's to rim--he seemed like he needed it more than she. Freya licked up her glass, swirling the liquid around slightly before tipping her head back and downing the whole thing in one gulp. Her eyes squeezed shut tightly as it burned down her throat and into her bellie, and she let out a breath as she placed the glass down on the desk.

"The first trick, however, is to not give a damn about what they think. They are vultures, circling around you waiting for you to mess up so that they can devour you." Freya poured herself another drink, this time taking her time to nurse the bronze liquid in her glass.

"I learned that from a young age. Something you weren't privilege to. I don't know whether to pity you for it or be jealous. Either way my father..." Freya trailed off to clear her throat before continuing. "My father always told me that you can't make every one happy so why try?"
played by DIANA
EST    mature content? Yes    Offline
           
GWarrior
A38
Agrey wardens
P9 posts

permalinkQuote
Drinking may not have been proper for a lady, but in Alistair’s eyes the world was an oyster for all. If a lady chose to drink? Why, let her drink! If a lady chose to pick up a sword? Where was the harm in that -- he’d worked alongside a particularly ‘unladylike’ Hero that forced an amount of perspective unto his shoulders. Ladies had two hands and sometimes an even more capable head than men, and so Alistair saw no point in leaving them out of the conversation. After all, it involved women most of the time.

So putting a glass towards Freya and keeping the notably chipped glass for himself was given the same effort as he would any close friend.

“Well, what I wouldn’t do to have a Fergus for a day.” He’d chuckled alongside the words, letting his features stretch into a wide grin as he noticed that she made doubly sure to fill his glass. That was why he liked Freya as much as he did; the Cousland knew how to keep company, and she was adept in reading what he needed at the time. At current: as much whiskey as could fit between the bottom and rim of his glass. Then a healthy lecture about the finer points of politics, because clearly Alistair could not get enough. He downed the glass in two gulps as she spoke, more than used to the burn of the liquor as it dripped to where it belonged.

“Vultures is certainly a colorful way to put it.” She’d continued going with little pause, Alistair pushed his glass out as an invitation for more whiskey. “I grew up a stable hand, so it’s safe to assume that I missed out on the lessons of how to rule a nation.” Despite being of royal blood, though Alistair held no complaints on it. He never wished for the life even as he cleaned the muck about the stables, shoveled shit, and most importantly fed the horses. He didn’t like to think about what he would have become under the watchful guise of the powerful.

He’d mulled over the question for a moment, face frowning in thought, “because a man who does not try is not much of a man at all?” Alistair wasn’t sure of where he’d heard the statement, but it seemed to sit on the tip of his tongue anyway. “All I want is what is best for the Wardens. They’re in a horrible place after everything.” The mishap after Lothering, particularly. Who wants to be a Warden when the would could so easily turn against you?
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