(no subject)

[theboogieman]

Who: IT'S A GAME MINGLE GET IN THE VAN
Broadcast: If you want!
Action: All of it!
When: Second half of the month.

[hey everyone! how's it been going? how's medieval-fun-time-world treating you? anyone pillaged and burned anything yet? got kicked out of the castle? been planning expeditions? registered for jousting? busy angsting for the last two weeks on your ship?

this is a mingle for everybody, whether they're hiding in the volcano, out and about in the city, or up on one of those random random stations where you can get quirky souvenirs.]

Comments

[dirth]

[ And, so, he sits, easily and happily, with a soft smile on his lips. ]

It seems to be the best measurement for many people. Bleeding is fine, perhaps, but bleeding to death is something to worry about.

[ His own grin widens a little, rather enjoying the simple nudge of banter, the thought of there, perhaps, being more to develop if they let it. ]

I am Solas.

[forcemageure]

Would you believe me if I said we'd met?

[ He assumes - in fairness, not without cause - that it's not like Solas could have just forgotten what was probably a fairly memorable occasion. Especially if he went along on the field trip to Adamant. ]

No hard feelings if that doesn't ring a bell, I can see how the dozens of things trying to kill us at the time might have taken precedence. I'm Hawke.

[dirth]

I would.

[ His smile doesn't waver or change, accepting it as easily as he would a gentle compliment or any other remark. He's gotten used to that here. ]

I met someone much like you in my own world but, I'm afraid, not you yourself. It's a pleasure to meet you again, Master Hawke.

[forcemageure]

[ By contrast his smile widens, or at least gets sharper. Everyone has their coping mechanisms; Hawke's happens to be questionable wit. ]

We are sort of meeting for the first and a half time, aren't we? Usually that only happens after an especially successful night of drinking.

[ He leans back on his hands, absorbing whatever sunlight is to be had. None of this feels particularly real, but it doesn't
feel unreal either, if he can presume to define either of those things. Prior to the whole 'death' bit he would have thought otherwise. ]
What do you make of it, then? All these possible Thedas...es. Thedasii?

[dirth]

[ Solas can't help the way his smile widens; he's always enjoyed humour, especially quick and intelligent wit. ]

There is a reason I avoid drinking where possible. I'd hate to forget a friend so soon after meeting them.

[ He pauses, looking out over at the landscape, pausing to consider before he shakes his head. ]

It seems illogical, doesn't it? And yet here we are. Perhaps it was naive of us to think that the choices we make do only create one path.

[forcemageure]

[ Well, if there's one thing Hawke can provide in company there's that, and he's quick to like a person who responds appreciatively to his particular brand of questionable wit. ]

Believe me, some of the bars I've been to you'd be better off forgetting anyone you met. Though 'friends' who leave you for dead in an alley are difficult to put out of one's mind.

[ ...that's never actually happened to him, it's just a large and ridiculous example. He sobers after that, mulling over the point Solas makes. ]

If it were only about choice I'd certainly welcome the opportunity to obliterate some of mine, but I'm told somewhere there's a path for me completely without magic. I can't imagine not looking for all the exits every time Templars are mentioned.