driftfleet | 002; action;

Entry tags:

002; action;

Who: Alistair and anyone who wants to get shitfaced.
Broadcast: Nope.
Action: Varric's bar on the Iskaulit.
When: Tonight. All night. PONY UP.
WARNING: Depending on how conversations go, drunk!Alistair may make vague references to child neglect/abuse, or possibly dubiously consensual sex. Other topics might include violence and extreme daddy issues. Let me know if you want me to specifically avoid any of that!

[ For all intents and purposes, Alistair feels utterly alone. Sure, there are several people in the fleet who know him, but he doesn't seem to know any of them, and so it's weird. And if he's being honest with himself, he was feeling pretty lonely well before he got here. All of the friends he made during the Blight, when they were all on the road together, pretty much left after it ended, after his coronation. Even Amell ran off somewhere with Leliana, leaving him to the tender mercies of his uncle, his late brother's widow, and the rest of the Fereldan nobility.

He's been keeping up a cheerful face - he doesn't really know how to do anything else - but what with being here, learning about things he probably shouldn't have learned about, and having a little bit of money from - somewhere, he's finally just. Showed up to the bar. Varric's is the closest thing to familiar he can find, so he's drinking whatever ale his money can buy. And he's not stopping until the money runs out or he is insensible on the floor. ]

Another. Please.

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I suppose. But I'd probably have to carry one of those guns. I don't like those. They're so loud!

[ He watches her plop the coin purse down on the bar curiously for a moment. That probably would get him good and soused, but - ]

I don't need your money.

There is something called a bouncer. They toss rowdy folk out of the bars and clubs on the station. No weapons allowed. Might be a little more up your alley.

[Her drink finally comes and she nods in thanks. She knocks back some of it, shuddering at the after taste before setting it down.]

No, but I'm offering, and besides, it's not just for you. I plan on pulling an Oghren, too. Might as well do it together. [Not a good idea if she's going to keep talking to him, but she can't ignore him.] You look like you need a few. Are you not settling in well on your ship, or is it something else?

That would probably be better than sitting around doing nothing.

[ He'll take her advice, after he gets through the hangover tonight will inevitably result in. ]

You don't want to hear my sob story. Why don't you tell me yours, instead? Why're you pulling an Oghren?

Infinitely. And you'll get more money that way, too. More to spend on drinks and whatever else you'd like. Just make sure they pay you in coin - er, chips and not with that credit business or whatever. Our accounts are frozen so you wouldn't be able to get to that money.

[He gets another Look over the rim of her glass as she takes another drink. When she sets it down, she says:]

I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to hear it. I'm pulling an Oghren to finish off my last bout in the fighting ring and to numb the pain from the hits I took. [And because of you and other assorted issues. But there's no way she's telling him that.] There. That's my reason. Your turn.

[Riona's aware he's avoiding trying to talk about it. But if he's sitting at a bar trying to get drunk, then obviously it's serious enough to warrant a talk.]

[ He could point out that 'pulling an Oghren' by definition means 'drowning my emotional pain in alcohol' but that might be too pressing a question for her, no matter how well she knows him. ]

Just trying to make this whole thing less weird. It seems like all the people from our world know me, but... I don't know any of you.

Well, many seem to be from the future, and I don't know any of them myself either, so you're not alone there. You are sort of famous, though. Comes with the territory. [She smiles, trying to go for teasing but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.] It could be much worse. You could not exist in their version of events. Or be dead.

[Like she suspects she is.]

I know. I shouldn't complain. It's not bad here. Varric seems nice.

[ Most of the people he's spoken to seem nice enough. ]

And the people who aren't from Thedas, they don't always know I'm king.

[Sigh.] That's not what I meant for you to take from that. You're allowed to complain. I mean, yes it could be worse and you're lucky it's not. But it doesn't change the fact that all of this is... weird. So damn weird.

[And kind of painful.]

They don't? [She gasps dramatically.] Oh my, are you going incognito? You devilish rogue.

[Said with full awareness of the irony - and perhaps hypocrisy - of that statement.]

Yeah, I'm disguised as regular, old, not-king Alistair. It's nice. No one bows or anything.

[ He tries a smile. ]

Being a nobody isn't too bad. Right up until I start feeling guilty for hoping I stay here a while. Not that I think Anora misses me, but I did agree to do it. The king thing.

There is a sort of freedom in it, isn't there? To just be able to blend in.

[He's hiding something. She's not sure what yet, but she's getting the feeling that-

wait.

What?]

...Anora? Why would she be missing you?

[She so does not have a good feeling about this.]

[ Alistair blinks at her for a moment, rather stupidly. Well, he has had several pints of ale already, and now a gin and tonic. ]

I just said she's not, I mean, why would she? I'm the oaf she had to agree to marry in order to stay queen.

[Marry. Marry Anora.

He married Anora.

She does the same thing as Alistair for a time too: just stare and blink. It doesn't help she hasn't eaten in awhile so the alcohol is hitting her kind of quickly, or that she got knocked around a bit so she's already a bit off-kilter. In order to best maintain her lie, she should just nod and go "oh of course". But she can't because the thought of Alistair marrying Anora just... honestly, it sickens her a bit.

Slowly she turns back to her drink, eyes still wide in shock as she knocks back the rest of it before immediately flagging the bartender down. She orders two shots of the strongest whatever they have in stock.

Right now she's torn between heaving her glass across the room, crying, vomiting into a wastebin, and crossing dimensional boundaries to find Solona Amell and beat her ass. Because if things went down the same way they did at her version of the Landsmeet, Solona Amell made that decision. And sure, politically it makes perfect sense. But emotionally - Riona would argue even morally - it was awful.]

...she made you marry Anora.

[Though she's primarily still in shock, there's a hint of disgust in the undercurrent of her tone.]

What?

[ Made him? Well, her whole reaction to this news is a bit baffling, first of all, but he can't help but bristle just a little at the idea that someone made him do it. ]

No one made me. It was suggested, and we agreed it was the best idea! And we're not married yet. It was still a few weeks away when I... left.

[ Not that that makes any appreciable difference, except for the fact that he hasn't yet had to, well. Do that with Anora quite yet. But he will, when he gets back. Because he gave his word, and Alistair is a man of his word. ]

[Well at least there was an agreement, which curbs a bit of the anger. She half-expected that Solona decided it on the spot after Loghain was dealt with.

You know, kind of like how she made her decision to marry Alistair.]

The best idea, politically. Sure. I can see that.

[Still, she can't quite hide the anger in her voice. But whatever she might have said next is cut off when the bartender comes back with the shots. Riona immediately slides one towards Alistair before picking up her own.]

Right. Politically.

[ He tosses back the shot, and it's only once it's burning down his throat and into his belly that he realizes the discrepancy in what she said - or rather, in how she reacted. ]

Wait - does that mean I didn't agree to marry Anora in your world?

[ He's more than a little drunk, okay, he's even slower on the uptake than usual. ]

[...and this is exactly why she shouldn't have reacted the way she did, but her emotions got the better of her.

She doesn't answer right away. Instead she knocks back her shot, coughing after it goes down her throat. She pushes the shotglass away and motions for another drink.]

No, you didn't.

[It never came on the table.] It's just wrong. Politically, yes, it makes perfect sense. But emotionally it's just... It's not right. Neither to you or Anora.

[ He frowns faintly - in part feeling like he wants to defend Anora - after all, she can't defend herself. And also perhaps because he wants the marriage to work, as best it can. If it doesn't, he really will be miserable. And so will she. ]

Well, I mean, it's not so bad. It might turn out well. We just don't know each other yet.

[And of course he's optimistic and hoping for the best. That's who he is. It's part of what she loves about him, as heartbreaking as it can be at times.

She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to compose herself. She's letting her own feelings get in the way. Where this Alistair and his affairs are concerned, they have no place. And she's already risked exposing too much with the way she's been carrying on. When she opens them again, she summons a smile and carefully pulls on a neutral expression.]

I hope you're right. She never struck me as particularly affectionate, but then I don't think we got to see her at her best. Perhaps you'll warm up to each other in time. [She's not convinced it will happen, but she can hope.]

[ It's really all he can do at this point. Who wants to look at their life and see nothing in their future but a loveless marriage and a duty they never wanted? He has to try and make the best of everything, or go mad. ]

Well, I wasn't particularly affectionate when we met, either. I'm sure... it'll be fine.

[ And yet, the thought spurs him to more drinking. He is dreading his wedding night. ]

I suppose so. At least she's... intelligent. And she's a capable leader so I'm sure there's much she can teach you.

[This is horribly uncomfortable for her to talk about, and it seems the same for Alistair. TIME FOR A SUBJECT CHANGE.]

Anyway, I completely got us off track. You said you're feeling guilty about being here?

[ It's - yeah, okay, it's a little uncomfortable for him, too. Mostly just because he's dreading his wedding night the way a condemned man dreads his execution day. Well, maybe that's a little overdramatic. ]

Guilty. Well, I am the king. There's a lot to do in Ferelden. And I can't do any of it from here.

No, that's true. For what it's worth, I was told by someone when I first came here that time freezes back home while we're here. She said she had been in the fleet once before and got sent back. Nothing had changed; it was like she never left.

Oh.

Here I was hoping they might have the wedding without me.

[ A JOKE. He's trying to joke, but he can't quite muster the correct level of cheerfulness. ]

[Even as half-assed as the joke is, Riona can't help but laugh a little. What can she say, she loves his awful humor.]

But think of the cake you'd be missing out on. [Clearly the best answer to one bad joke is another of her own.

Meanwhile, the bartender finally brings her her drink. Riona automatically asks for another one. It earns her a frown from the 'tender. She glares back, her point conveyed clearly as the bartender rolls their eyes and walks off.]

Yeah, cake. I'm sure that'll be nice, anyway.

[ Alistair leans forward on his arms a little, sighing. ]

I didn't think you were supposed to dread your own wedding.

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