driftfleet | Sixth Blight

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Sixth Blight - video

Who: Riona and you!
Broadcast: Yus
Action: On the Blue Fish, if you'd like!
When: Now?

[There's the distinct sound of a canine sniffing nearby when the feed turns on. Anyone with an acute ear may also hear a different kind of sound, something akin to snuffling. The animal causing it is revealed a moment later. To those not from Thedas, it looks like a pink, hairless mole. But any Thedosian would know that it's a nug.

The camera pans over to Riona, who's feeding said nug while Kiter cautiously sniffs at the other animal. She shakes her head.]

A favor for a favor, I suppose. Sister Nightingale has fallen into one of those comas. For the time being, Schmooples here is in my care. If you were expecting to see her in the interfaith center, I'm afraid it'll have to wait. [She looks over at her puppy, smiling conspiratorially.] You and I will be brainstorming what to draw on her face. Tit for tat, too.

[When she looks back at the camera, her smile falters, and pronounced concern sets in its place.]

Also, Dr. Beverly Crusher seems to be missing. Normally I'd suspect she's gone home, but her things are still here and her name still shows up on the communication device. Something is amiss. If anyone has seen her the past few days, please do let me or any of the crew on the Blue Fish know.

[Her disappearance puzzles her, along with her obvious worry. It's not like Beverly to do that, and with them having left the planet, there are only so many places she could be.]

Those matters aside, we've now returned to the dull void of space and to confinement in our ships until we make land again. There's only so much to entertain in the fleet, especially when you've been here awhile. Recently, I returned home for a few months. Here only a handful of days passed, but it felt much longer. I find myself feeling a bit homesick. So, I have a request.

[She pauses, uncertainty flitting across her face. For a moment she glances down, and finds herself fiddling with her wedding ring, which she's recently gone back to wearing on her hand. She clasps her hands together and looks back at the camera.]

But first, I suppose I should introduce myself to those who don't know me. My name is Riona Cousland [And here there's the slightest pause, a moment of hesitation. She swallows the trepidation back.] Theirin. I've been here nearly eight months.

[Whatever caused her hesitation seems to have passed. She relaxes, and continues:]

In my time, I've heard quite a few things about people's worlds. Comparing them to Thedas - where I am from - always interests me. I love hearing stories, and I'm always happy to share ones from my world, in particular the ones of my home country.

So. Let's do an exchange. A tale for a tale. It can be anything you experienced, or perhaps a legend or fable from your world that you're fond of. And I will tell you one in return. Simple enough, and a good way to pass the evening, no?

[She smiles, wiggling her fingers in good-bye before shutting off the feed.]

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[He smiles again at her thanks, that same way that tugs at his eyes and makes him look far too old even for his 30 plus years. At her telling him to go ahead with the story, his smile turns impish, the age sliding off of him into a boyish glee.]

Well, she was a widow, but it had been more than four years since her husband had been taken in the Blight and she knew it was time to move on, mostly because a young guardsman had caught her eye. He was the stoic type, much like her, and handsome, filling out his armor quite well if you know what I mean.

Of course, having been out of the game of courting for so long, my friend had no idea how to approach this man she wanted, but she tried. First she sent me with a gift. A metal plate, emblazoned with marigolds. She didn't tell me why nor him who from, just hounded me for his reaction afterwards.

Which, as you can imagine, was confusion.

So she tried again, pulling strings to change the guard assignments so he would have an easy route. Not the brigands of Darktown or the coterie thugs that sometimes wander Lowtown. Of course this went over about as well as the incomprehensible metal plate. The other guards just wondered who's ass he was kissing to get a cushy job, and he was put out that his route would see no criminals arrested for the good of the city.

By this time, of course, the rest of her friends and I had figured out exactly what she was trying to do, so we offered to help. Told him to meet up with a group in a neutral location - a bar down in Lowtown. Of course, the plan was to have him meet with her alone, the rest of us drifting off to give them that time.

Instead, she never showed, and I spent a miserable two and a half hours paying for entirely too much terrible ale and trying to talk her up to him awkwardly. He ended up just thinking that I had feelings for her, called me pathetic for needing a go-between, and sodded off for the night!

[He pauses here for appropriate laughter and commentary.]

[Maker's breath, and she thought Alistair had had his awkward moments. This woman made him look downright suave in comparison.]

So she was his captain? [That was her understanding of it, anyway.] Hmmm. Intriguing. But wouldn't her... caboodling with him break rules?

[But maybe she's getting a little ahead.]

Sorry. What happened after that embarrassing night?

Well he could have filed a complaint, if anything had been too terrible, but that didn't happen. Probably because he was sweet on her too, but none of us could really tell, you know? Stoic as he was.

So after that night, she's furiously trying to figure out some other way to woo him, stuff like sheep and sheafs of wheat and that back-country ridiculousness. So we propose a plan instead. Our friends and I would go ahead of her to clear out bandits along the usual Wounded Coast patrol route so she and her man can get some time to talk without interruption. It took some badgering but I finally got her to agree. After all, what are friends for?

So we're on the coast, giving the guardsmen the quietest patrol night in the history of the Free Marches, and she still can't say what's on her mind! She started going on about forging swords, of all things. Nerves, I guess, but frankly it was pathetic. I had to step in, especially when she was about to throw in the towel and head back to the barracks.

Of course, one of our friends had to have her say. She told him to 'take a hint and bend her over a basin'!

[He snorts at the memory; he may still be wounded by Isabela's choices concerning the Qunari, but the woman was a hoot and a half to be around.]

He left, but they talked after that. I'd never heard her giggle before, but the smile that guardsman put on her face when he finally returned her affections...

[His smirk over Isabela turns to a soft and warm smile over Aveline. He misses her something fierce.]

They got married not long after that. Happiest I'd ever seen her.

[Okay, now Riona's laughing a bit as he continues. Really, offering him a dowry? Good Maker!]

Sounds as if your friend had the right of it, considering your guard-captain friend seemed to be unable to spit it out. Subtlety is nice, but occasionally a smack of good old blunt truth to the face is in order.

[She applauds a little as he wraps up.]

A happy ending, then! Well, despite her bumbling, I'm pleased that your friend found such happiness.

So am I. She very much deserved it. A relationship goal for everyone else, those two.

[He's pleased she enjoyed the story, leaning back in his chair in a more relaxed manner than when he'd started this video. His slouch is suddenly joined by Ser Pounce, as the orange tabby leaps up onto his lap and drapes himself unceremoniously across Hawke's shoulders, causing a wince or two since the cat never seems to retract his claws all the way.]

You little beast.

[He coos affectionately at Pounce and reaches up to scritch behind his ears.]

Anyway, that's probably my favorite story.

It's a rare thing in our world, it seems. [She's one of the very lucky few who can say she found something so good, though she paid a high price for it.

When the cat appears, she smiles. At least someone was taking care of him. Cats were usually a bit more self-reliant than dogs, but she still wondered. He'd been such a tiny thing when she first saw him, hiding under some shelter in Vigil's Keep.]

Has Pounce been well?

As well as you'd imagine. He spends most of his time curled up on Anders' chest unless it's time for food. Or apparently unless you're on the other end of the communicator.

[Pounce, being a cat and having no care for what humans are in the middle of doing, leans himself off of Hawke's shoulders despite having just gotten comfortable and fills the communicator screen with his face. He knows he can hear someone he knows through that, but how did she get in such a small thing???? Clearly he must drape himself on it until he can figure it out.

Cat logic.]

Pounce, what are you-

[She sighs and then laughs when her screen goes entirely black thanks to a mass of cat covering it.]

Cats. I will never understand them.

Nor I!

[He lifts the cat off of the communicator with a disgruntled purr from the tabby in question and places him in his lap.]

They don't behave like proper animals, do they. They don't mind their masters at all.

I always got the feeling they don't see us that way. More like conveniences, with the benefit of being able to feed them.

[She shakes her head.]

Pounce always did adore Anders, but he could also be quite aloof when he wanted to be.

I think he accepts me only because he can't make me leave.

[Pounce, unhappy at being the object of scrutiny and having been forcibly moved, promptly hops down from Adalwolfe's lap and jumps back up on the hospital bed where Anders is currently sleeping.]

What is it with Anders and cats, anyway? He adopted one in Orlais too, a mean old thing with one blind eye. I swear that monster took up half the table when he decided he wanted to be in the way.

Which was always.

It goes back to his Circle days. Did he ever tell you about the mouser he befriended during his time in isolation?

[Mentioning that sobers Adalwolfe just a bit. It's removed for him, further for Riona, but the treatment of mages in the Circles is something that cut Anders deeply and very personally. Like many things, Anders taking something personally means Adalwolfe sort of adopts it as his too, seeing as the spirit healer is a personal subject for him.

Still, no need to get so serious now. He's been feeling serious enough, Anders in a coma as he is. He'd rather continue the pleasant conversation he's been having than spoil it, at any rate.]

He did. It does make sense, then. I just wish Pounce here could coexist with Ser Drools instead of batting at him like a practice dummy. I don't know if he's just trying to establish his feline superiority or what but Anders would be proud.

Give them time to get used to each other. Dogs can be overbearing, especially for cats who typically keep more to themselves. That and Pounce is used to being the only furry creature around. [Aside from Oghren...]

I could see that if Pounce didn't just bat at my poor beast without any prompting whatsoever. Sometimes he jumps off the bed just to go over and harass him. Maybe it's a territorial thing though, like you said with him being used to being the only one.

[Hmm...]

I take that to mean Pounce was with him when he traveled with you?

Cats are assholes.

[Which is why she likes dogs. Okay, there's way more to it than that, but it's a part of it.]

Mm, he was. Anders brought him everywhere with us. Even the Deep Roads.

[He nods sagely to her assessment of cats. Preach it, sister.]

I can't imagine why he thought it a good idea to fight darkspawn with a cat in his hood. The little beast could have been hurt, not to mention lost in the Deep Roads.

[He feels a little bad being incredulous about Anders' choices when he's not awake to defend himself, but seriously. Bad idea.]

Many of our companions thought as much, too. But Pounce managed to take care of himself well enough. He even scratched a few darkspawn on the nose, if I recall correctly.

Huh. I'd have believed it of Old Tom, but not Pounce. He's such a little thing.

[Adalwolfe glances at the cat in question.]

Or was he bigger than the Tree brought him?

He was a bit bigger, yes. Still rather small, but he seemed more grown back home than he is here. Here, he's definitely a kitten.

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