sixthiterationlogs | One | Fate Emptied of Hope

WHO: Alistair Theirin
WHERE: Fountain Square/Inn
WHEN: Dec 27, Evening
OPEN TO: One at the fountain (Claimed by Zev), OTA at the Inn, per usual.
WARNINGS: None - will edit if any occur.

'Cross Veil and into the valley of dreams:

"Very funny," came the voice from near the fountain. Dripping wet and cold, Alistair looked challengingly up at the sky, arms held out to either side. "But I don't know how you thought I'd fall for this! This isn't Redcliffe," he called. "And it's definitely not Denerim or Kirkwall or Wycome. It's not any of those tiny towns in Orlais. I've never seen this place before, so it's not my memory, cheater!"

Bending down, he picked up the first thing he saw - oh, a rock, that'll help - and threw it upward, not really noticing where it went. He heard it fall on the ground somewhere, but that was neither here nor there. It was proof he'd thrown it the wrong way, if anything.

"I don't trust you, Nightmare!" More agitated, he started to look for another rock. Another anything. "Or is this some Despair Demon's work? Encroaching on your territory now that you lost the Inquisitor? Well tough luck to you both - I'm not afraid anymore, and there's nothing left for me to Despair over. I might be the Maker's own idiot, but I'm not going to trust this illusion!"

Where had his sword gone. His shield, his armour. Which direction was the damned Nightmare?! He couldn't fight the damned thing if he couldn't see it, and he couldn't see it. Anywhere. Whatever Demon it was fueling this illusion, it was better than any he'd fought through yet, and he didn't want to think about what that meant.

In ignorance stumbling:

There was a good fire burning, and that was nice. Really, the place was nicer than roughly every other inn he'd ever seen, including the Hanged Man -- Well, honestly, it far surpassed the Hanged Man, the Pearl, definitely the Spoiled Princess. Places with names he couldn't remember because all he'd been concerned about was finding the bottom of his mug and then having another.

No such luck here, not that he minded. He'd had years to leave that particular vice behind, not that it had been a kind one while he'd had it. But at least now he was warm, dry, and, though confused, knew a few things for certain: There was food, there was shelter, and there was a chance - at least something of a chance - that this wasn't the Fade.

As he stood by the fire, pleasantly toasting himself, he realised he had a lot to think about. And that thought made his head hurt. Nose wrinkled, Alistair rubbed at his temples, muttering a quiet, "Ow."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Alistair gave a fragment of a laugh. "A bit of charm. Well. You're not entirely wrong. Nothing's dripping with water from who knows where and you've actually got food and fire. So far, this place... Like I said. Improvement."

"Well, I'll take that as a compliment," Reeve laughed, shaking his head. "Well..."

He rose from the fire and smiled. "There is some tea in the kitchen. Would you like a cup?"

His brows raised and he decided-- "Sure. Why not. It's cold enough that anything warm's a pleasure. Something I didn't cook, too. Which will be the real positive."

"Are you implying we should keep you away from the cooking detail?" Reeve chuckled. "I make a wicked grilled cheese sandwich, but little more than that."

Most of his food was stuff that could be made by heating it up on a hot plate. Ah college and then executive life. It was not good on him. Still, he managed to stay trim and fit enough.

"Unless you like your food a nice, even grey, I'm probably not the best to cook anything - I mean, you won't get ill from it, but you won't get anything else from it, either," Alistair said. It was a flaw he knew well - and didn't mind.

"Now that sounds like a unique form of magic that everyone should be witness to at least once, even if it is best if they are not forced to consume it," Reeve mused, just because... how did you turn everything gray? Peas. He'd like to see this man make peas.

Alistair snorted. "That would be a first. No, honestly, the entire time we were fighting the Blight, every time it was my turn to cook, the entire group was suddenly not hungry after the first time I took my hand to it. I'm-- I'm not at all meant to cook. I do all right now with roasting meat on a spit, but anything more complicated and you might as well go graze with the druffalo."

"Perhaps you just need someone to teach you," Reeve countered. "I'd offer, but I'm not much skilled at it either."

Still he doesn't mind any of it.

"There is a group that cooks in the inn every day, to make communal lunch. Maybe you can learn from them."

"Eh... I'll sooner do other things if no one minds. Leave the cooking to people who know what they're doing. I'll... just roast the occasional rabbit-- Wait." His brows drew down. "Are there rabbits here?"

"Frankly, I don't know. I haven't gone much outside of the village, and I don't assist with cooking."

No doubt Alistair will figure out something he desires. There will be work here, there will always be work here.

"Well. I'll have to borrow a bow from somewhere for hunting anyway," he exhaled. "This place managed to leave all my armour and weapons behind, so unless I plan to run after them like a moron and strangle them to death, hunting isn't going to happen right away."

The problem was that he could so easily see himself chasing a rabbit.

Why was he like this.

"I think there's someone who teaches archery," he says. "Saw a posting near the desk... A Hawke. Perhaps you should look them up."

Because instruction on archery wouldn't be a bad thing, correct?

His brows raised quickly. "Wait.

"Hawke's here? I stayed behind so he wouldn't--"

But he exhaled, the memory coming at once. "Might be a different Hawke."

"She," Reeve corrected. Clearly not the same person. "Now if you'll forgive me, I'll get to the kitchen for that tea. Maybe some soup as well."

That sounds like a good plan, right?

"Oh-- Right. Thank you for that, by the way." So as Reeve went, he sat, a little more convinced of the lack of demons, but brain still a little hurty because of everything he had to figure out.

One | Fate Emptied of Hope

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

possible good close?

Sounds good!