Alistair (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theirinurpants) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-02-06 05:39 pm
theirinurpants) wrote in driftfleet2016-02-06 05:39 pm
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.
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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[ He means that literally, Nita. Sorry, your modern slang is going right over his head, especially in his semi-inebriated state. ]
It's all right. About as good as I've had in Denerim, anyway.
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Denerim? Is that where you're from?
[Tell her everything she is genuinely interested.]
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[ He doesn't know why he feels the need to make this distinction. ]
The royal castle is there, and all that. It's kind of a mess though, after the whole... battle.
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[Shrug.
Alistair's lucky Nita isn't especially good at picking apart conversations, so the random mention of the royal palace doesn't strike her as a weird thing to say instead of just telling her Denerim is the capital.]
Oh, it's the capital? Was there a war?
[Wars are Bad, but she knows they happen. Hopefully the good guys won. Assuming there were good guys...she really hates it when there aren't.]
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[ His face darkens a little. ]
I feel kind of bad, for being here and not there. You know, to help.
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[Nita is vaguely aware something happened in Ireland that was called a Potato Blight and people starved, and she's trying to square that with Alistair talking about a battle.]
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[She totally gets zombies.]
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[Nita lays her hand on his forearm in a sympathetic gesture. She understands what it's like to have your homeland laid to waste.]
I'm sorry I brought it up. We can change the subject if you want.
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[She raises her drink in a toast.]
To...Ferelden, did you say it was?
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To Ferelden.