driftfleet | 1st Chant - Just Like Home

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1st Chant - Just Like Home

Who: Alistair Theirin and you
Broadcast: Nah
Action: On the SS Heron and on Lato'li's surface
When: November 10th

Arrival on the Heron - Closed to Rowan

[One minute, it's nonstop meetings with Teryn So-and-So or Arl Thinks-He's-More-Important-Than-Everyone-Else. The next, Alistair is walking out of the palace's Audience Chamber in favor of finding five minutes alone in the alcove down the hall. He'd never asked to be named king of Ferelden, but he's doing a passable job. Advisers are actually giving advice, instead of trying to tell him what to do. Of course, it helps that he's standing up for himself more and telling them no if he doesn't agree.

But that doesn't stop the constant demands from the nobles rebuilding their lands after the Blight. And the depleted national treasury because of Loghain and Arl Howe. So far, his assessment of this position is: It's a headache.

There are perks, sure. People actually listen to him when he speaks. He's well liked. He's actually respected. It's a total 180 from what his life was like before the Landsmeet where he was thrust into the limelight as Maric's bastard son and the only living Theirin left.

All well and good, but the second he's out the sidedoor near the throne, he's... in a dark, cramped corridor. His father's sword which he normally keeps belted at his waist as the only outward sign of his position is oddly missing and the difference in weight makes him half-stumble before he straightens out and avoids faceplanting on the metal ground. He looks around, but nothing about this place seems like the Fade. Though it's a thought that keeps rearing its ugly head as he looks around and wonders where the hell he is.]

Hello? Riona? Eamon? Hello~? Is anyone there?

[And then there's some sort of strange music, paper being thrown in his face and a tray of... something not too far at hand as he walks into an open space with a wall caving in and scorched. The fanfare is out of place in what looks like a deserted, burned out metal building. And it's the sky outside that gets his attention as he walks closer.]

Maker's breath... What in the world did I walk into?

[And as he attempts to step out of the construct he's on and onto the strange ground, a blood-curdling scream is the only hint that Alistair gets before a sword comes a little too close to his head for comfort.]

Where Is She? - Closed to Riona

[After a very unnerving save by someone claiming to know him and be a Cousland of Highever, Alistair is armed with two swrods against the enemies of this strange world. And looking for his wife. Because he's been told she's here and there's no way he's not going to spend his time to find her.

And while he might be covered in the blood of his enemies, it's a familiar enough feeling that he doesn't even care. It's not important. (At least it doesn't smell like the blood of Darkspawn does.)

As he gets closer to the space ship that is supposed to be where Riona is, he stops running and looks around at the clearing.]

Riona, are you around here somewhere?

[Guess who still doesn't know how to use the damn communicators and doesn't care?]

Choose Your Own Adventure

[Anyone on Lato'li is free to catch up with Alistair as he runs around and fighting like a mad warrior-king. (Without the whole dying thing that another certain king did not that long ago. No more civil wars for Ferelden, alright?

Just hit me up on plurk at

makochan or discord at makotosagara#9497 for plotting ideas!]

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[He's met with silence, at first. The ship's quiet; too much noise draws the attention of the Vieziri, after all. Luckily, Alistair's not going to have to wait too long.

From the surrounding forest, there's a rustle of leaves, before a muzzle slowly emerges from the underbrush. The nose attached to it sniffs the air tentatively. That little sniffer stops when Alistair's scent carries downwind. Wait a second...

The rest of the creature emerges from the forest. Though he's much smaller than he should be, Alistair, if he turns around, will recognize Kiter. The mabari looks honestly shocked for a second, because even he had little hope that Alistair would ever turn up here. But his eyes - and his nose - don't lie. Once the shock breaks, he breaks out into a sprint, barking excitedly as he charges at Alistair. Since he's not full grown (thanks, Atroma) the tackle probably won't break Alistair's spine or anything. But still, he's got a mabari running full tilt at him with the intention of smooshing him in joy.

In the distance, Riona calls for Kiter. Where'd that dog get to??]

[Belatedly, he does remember the warning that yelling only draws out the crazy cannibals. Let them come. He's not afraid of flesh-eating creeps. He lived through that trip in the Deep Roads after all.

And the sound of something moving in the bushes has his attention almost immediately before he spots the brown dog in the very red-tinted everything, barking and slobbering. But it's not fast enough before the mabari is barreling into him and knocking in to the ground.

And while he and Kiter never hated one another, he doesn't really remember their relationship being so...spirited. But, here he is, laying face up in the dirt, being covered in the slobber of a warhound.]

Kiter, please don't drown me.

[As he pets the animal's head and flanks, he does notice that he's not that big. Not that it matters with a breed that is bred to kill things in the first place.]

[Kiter once considered Alistair a rival for Riona's affection, but those days are long since past for him. They bonded a fair bit while Riona went off to Vigil's Keep, both boys forced to stay behind in Denerim.

He unapologetically licks Alistair's face, his little stump of a tail wagging hard. Oh, his mistress will be so pleased! She's been pining for Alistair for months and months now. Finally, the cloud over her may finally part.

A high-pitched whistle snaps Kiter's attention away from Alistair, saving the man from drowning. His ears perk up, listening attentively. Distantly, Riona calls for Kiter again. Unconcerned about the cannibals, he barks repeatedly, trying to get her attention. He keeps it up until finally, in the same direction he'd come from, a figure emerges from the foliage.

Riona sighs, looking aggravated a moment.]

Kiter, what are you-

[But the rest of the words die in her throat when she sees who's on the ground. Her heart slams against her ribcage. Of course they'd do this. In the middle of preparations for attacking the Vieziri, and all the other shit going on, they'd bring him here. How could they do this to her, again? Her upper lip stiffens. She's not so foolish as to think he's her Alistair. Nice try, Atroma. She's not falling for it.]

Maker, I am so sorry. [Her expression hides the maelstrom churning inside of her as she approaches.] Kiter, off. [He whines, unsure as to why she's reacting this way. But he does as told. Riona swallows thickly.] Are you all right?

Ew, your breath is disgusting. What've you been eating? Dwarves?

[Honestly, the mabari smelled better after their trip through the Deep Roads that was crawling with Darkspawn and spiders and golems and crazy Dwarven Paragons. But, this is definitely better than trying to bite his fingers off or growling when he mentions spending time alone with his wife. No, it's almost as if the warhound might like him, which is strange, but good.

He'd take it.

But he still wants to wash his face now. Because Mabari slobber is worse than blood. Of course.

When the dog starts barking, Alistair looks around the beast to see why. One arm raises up towards his head to draw one of his newly acquired swords but stops when he hears the familiar voice, even with the exasperated tone. And he can't help smiling. Like a loon.]

There you are.

[But she doesn't seem at all happy to see him. His smile dies as he stands up to look at her. It's not the same situation with that Rowan fellow, is it? Because if it is, that's just beyond cruel. Two Couslands—and she's definitely Riona if that's Kiter—and neither his wife...

But, he has to make sure. So, he'll just talk, awkwardly.]

You know, I imagined at least a hello. I don't think I've done anything in the last month to warrant not even getting a greeting. I even sent Arl Wulff that sizable donation you suggested to rebuild the Chantry in Western Hills.

[WOW RUDE. KITER THOUGHT YOU WERE BROS NOW. Alistair gets a quick, mild glare for that. See how long your socks last today after that comment, bucko. But he's not too focused on that at the moment. He's far more worried about Riona.

Riona's defenses are up. She's ready, or so she tells herself. This time, she'll handle her reaction. She'll be fine and unruffled. Calm as the surface of a lake. Unperturbed and collected.

"There you are."

Three little words, but they throw her completely off balance. Riona goes from cautious to gobsmacked in seconds, eyes wide and staring as Alistair rambles. Awkward and unsure. The words don't quite sink in; her mind reels too much from the reality standing in front of her.]

...Alistair?

[Could this really be? Is... Is Atroma really allowing her this? Hands shaking, she takes a step closer, aching to reach out and touch him, but so afraid to. So fearful that if she does, he'll vanish, and reveal the cruel illusion she's half certain this is.]

You... you know me? You know who I am?

[Maker, let it be so.]

[You can still be bros. You just need a breath mint or ten. It's fine! Less cannibals, more pets, okay? Also, will he really have to worry about his socks if he's banished to another ship?

But, Alistair's full attention is definitely on Riona as she finally reacts. And he reaches out to touch her arm, not sure if he should pull her into a hug or get her some water or anything. Even after nearly a year, he's still bad with how to react around women.

And he's worried about her. She's never done this before. It's...disconcerting, especially if he thinks too hard about Kiter's reaction as well.]

Sweet Andraste, I should think so. Unless this is some sort of variation of the Fade that I've been pulled into. And if so, I really want to find the demon responsible so that I can punch him and the mage he's feeding from.

[Your socks are never safe from him. No matter where he is.

Riona stares and stares, almost unable to believe what he's telling her. That he's real and he knows her. This isn't just any Alistair from just any Thedas. He's her Alistair from her Thedas. This is the man she met and fell in love with. This is the man she married. This is the man she thought she'd never see again.

It's his touch, tentative and light, that brings her back to reality. Oh so very hesitantly, she places a shaking hand on his. Her fingers slide over his. How many times had she felt his hand in hers? Even after over two years, she still remembers it like it was yesterday.

He's here. It's him.]

Alistair.

[Months of pent up emotions pour out in that moment as she closes the distance between them and presses her face into his chest. She weeps, arms coming around him tightly as she clings.

Kiter, for his part, whines a little, but sits at her feet, deciding to just wait this out. He hoped she'd be happy, but... sometimes you just gotta cry it out first. She does this sometimes.]

[Kiter, what if bribes you meat? Will that save his socks? They are kind of necessary, okay.

The unfamiliar scrutiny makes him wonder if there's something on his face. You know, aside from blood and dog slobber. He'd expect this from Morrigan, Sten or Zevran, but not her. Even when they'd first met she hadn't been so standoffish towards him. Of course, she'd seen him at his worst then too. Testy and irritated and irritating...

His fingers curl around hers in an almost protective hold. He can feel her shaking all over and he helps her press against him, letting their hands part. Where she belongs. His arms wrap around her back to keep her there and he just stands there, holding his wife as she sobs.

It's been a while since she's had a crying jag and somehow he just knows that anything he says won't be enough to get her out of this.]

It's alright, my dear. I'm here.

[He wants to comfort the Mabari too, but he knows that once Riona is calm, Kiter will be okay again.

In a fit of gallantry, he slides one arm under her knees and lifts her into his arms like he has many times before and looks around for some place safe enough for her to recover. As much as he wishes it were otherwise, he can't just let them stand out in the open while enemies ready to attack them. And then he spots the little copse of trees they'd been using as cover and heads over there, whistling for their four-legged companion to keep up.]

I suppose it's a good thing that I'm in my regular attire instead of full armor. It's easier to use my shirt as a handkerchief.

[...maaaaaaybeeeeeee

Riona's far too fond of keeping her issues pent up. Luckily, she's had a few people try and get her to talk them out. But most couldn't be solved by talking them through, even if it would help with at least being burdened by them. While Alistair's arrival here won't solve everything either, the relief in being able to see him again is palpable, and with it comes flooding out everything else.

She wants to be happy, and she is, but it's just buried under a lot else at the moment. But as it drains out of her, she feels him shift down and away. For a moment, she's afraid he's pulling back. Being in his arms again had brought comfort beyond words, and she feared losing it again. But before she can even ask, he's got his arms under her knees and she's off the ground. Instinctively she grabs hold of him, pressing herself close as he moves them towards cover, Kiter following on his heels.]

I'm sorry. I just... [She sniffles, pressing her forehead against the side of his neck.] I missed you so much.

[Justice has been tracking this pack of Vieziri. They are on the hunt, and he intends to stop them before they have the chance to claim any more innocents. Justice sees the crashed ship, grimacing and leveling his gun as the Vieziri get closer. He doesn't see anyone. Maybe--

But then a man is trying to leave the ship, and the Vieziri pounce.

Justice fires off multiple rounds, careful not to hit the man. Hopefully, the human has some basic battle instincts and doesn't fly into a blind panic.]

[He'll take that as a win.

He's not out to solve all of her problems with one hug. It would certainly be nice if that were the case, but he's not so naive to think it possible either. He just wants to be able to ease her burdens, like any man that loves his wife does. They can figure out what to do together. It's the basis of their relationship after all.

She feels... different, but he's not so crass as to say anything. For one, if things were to be believed, it's possible that a great deal of time has passed for her since they last parted. Which goes a long way to explaining the vehemence of her outburst. And even if she's changed from what he remembers, that's fine. She is still his wife and the way that she fits in his arms is the same. He can live with that.]

It hasn't been that long. I know the nobles can talk for what seems like years, but Eamon assures me it's only minutes and hours. [A little levity as they reach the treeline and he manages to crouch while still holding her. She needs it and he needs to let her know that he is in fact still holding her and not some vision from the Fade.] Although, I don't remember the palace being quite this red-hued. We should really think about redecorating.

[ Any reasonable human being probably would have stopped exploring the forests after the first handful of dangerous encounters with the Vieziri. Rowan Cousland however was not a reasonable human being, and for some reason felt it necessary that he continue to explore if only for the shear fact that someone from the fleet might be lost and in need of help. It also gave him time to think — time alone even though he sometimes hated it, because so much had happened in the short time he had been in the fleet. Too much.

And apparently more was about to happen. He hears the guttural scream and instead of running in the opposite direction — he runs right toward it, his newly fashioned bow in hand and an arrow at the ready. He leaps from the brambles just in time for the attacking Vieziri's sword arm to swing toward Alistair, and he looses an arrow as fast as he can. It hits the Vieziri's hand, knocking the sword loose and sending it clanking to the ground. He hasn't quite registered who the man being attacked is yet, but it doesn't matter. ]

You might want to grab that! [ The sword, he means. ]

[Kiter trots along after them, though his ears and eyes are on the treeline. Despite his earlier excitement, he knows the enemy in the forest can't be ignored for long. He's mabari. He's always on his guard, even at his laziest.

Which is good because Riona's not quite thinking about that at the moment. Her emotions are in such a tailspin that it's hard to think of anything else. She's always been the emotional sort, though she's gotten a little better as the years passed. Nothing like royal court to help you keep your emotions in check. But Alistair's sudden arrival threw her entirely off guard and caught her by surprise. Atroma's not normally this kind. It's something to ponder on. Later, though.

His jokes does manage to get a chuckle out of her, even if it's half-hearted and a little watery sounding from the tears. She's glad he's still holding her; right now, she's not sure if she can let go. Both longing and fear keep her arms around him. But as she leans back, sniffling and letting the tears run dry, then she notices that he's... well, young. Much younger than she last saw him. Ah, Atroma's thrown in a curveball. Nothing can ever be simple. Regardless, she's not complaining. He's still Alistair. He's still her husband. The time difference warrants a discussion, but that can come a little later.]

If only it were the palace. [But they're a long ways from home. She reaches up and cups his face with her hand, her thumb running along his cheekbone.] I'm afraid it's been a little longer than that for me, sweetheart. You might have just arrived, but I've been in the fleet upwards of two years now.

[To be honest, Alistair is more than just a little grateful for the Mabari's presence. His attention is on the woman in his arms and trying to get her to a more stable state of mind. When she pulls back, he doesn't really want to let her go. They have scant time alone as is that he can just ignore this, as perilous as it may be.

They've been through worse.

Besides, she is responding with something other than tears and drowned out words into his shirt. And actually touching him.

She looks so tired. It worries him until he listens to what she's saying.]

Right. So, I've run into someone claiming to be Rowan Cousland, but he's not your brother, not really. And, he's told me that he's a Grey Warden and that we're supposed to be friends. I've never met him before a day in my life, so I think that the time difference between you and I falls into the category of "we can talk about that later".

I'll just thank the Maker that you're here at all and we can worry about this planet and all the redness around here.

[He looks around with a grimace.]

Certainly puts Redcliffe to shame, doesn't it?

[So he's met Rowan. That must have been an... interesting encounter, to say the least. She'll speak with Rowan about it later; honestly, she feels a bit bad for him, because she knows it hurts to see a friend, only for them to not recognize you. She's been on both ends of that, and it just sucks all around.]

He's a character, isn't he? [Something tells her he and Zevran got along swimmingly.] If you ever wondered what I'd be like if I had been born a man, well, it's Rowan. [That's drastically oversimplifying it, but she's a bit too rattled to properly explain the whole thing at the moment.

When he suggests holding off on the time difference spiel, she nods hesitantly. It has to happen, and probably sooner rather than later, but she can wait.] Okay. Later then.

And then some. I think I've been turned off the color red for quite some time. [She leans her head back against his shoulder, though the tears have stopped. Heck, there's the beginnings of a real smile forming. Now that the shock's wearing off...] I can't believe you're here. I never thought it'd happen.

[Alright, so, he really should have learned his lesson when leaving off the other ship that paying attention to his surroundings is an absolutely must around here. But, he's still distracted by what's happened with Riona.

Is anyone going to blame him?

Probably, if he winds up dead, yes. Especially his wife.

And since he is a battle-hardened warrior, he doesn't let out a squeak of surprise or a girly scream (despite the initial desire to do so) and instead drops down to his knees and manages to pull his swords out and take his opponent's legs out from them. Literally. Then, he stands, covered in red blood that matches this terrible red planet and goes to find out who is the person who alerted him by shooting one of his attackers int he first place.]

Whatever you do, don't tell anyone else about this. I'm not sure that I can take the humiliation.

[Look, reasonableness and people in general from Thedas... They doesn't really mesh well. It's just not something you can really get when you have Darkspawn, Old Dragon Gods, and racism and classism of every kind running around. And, really, you had to be half-insane to be a Grey Warden in the first place, right?

And after the Blight had ended, Alistair might've spent ten months in court, but not all of it was idle. He's already ducking to try and avoid the blade as it travels through the air. It's a close call before it suddenly clatters to the ground.

Even if Rowan hadn't yelled, the former Templar is reaching for the weapon and swinging at his attacker all in the same move. The blade strikes armor and the reverberations travel up his arm, only magnifying the fact that he is not ready for any sort of combat, years of training or no.]

Your timing is impeccable, but I don't suppose you also have a shield somewhere?

[He has met Rowan, yes. And...uh.... yeah.]

He's something. And I can honestly say that I have never wondered what you would be like if you had been born a man. I happen to prefer you just as you are. Thank you very much.

[But, he's definitely someone that Alistair could be friends with, given enough time. He got along well with Zevran during their time together—after a fashion.

He can read the hesitation in her movements and figures she's going to want to talk about what's happened in the time they've been apart in her eyes. And, a closer look at her keys him in that it's been more than just the two years she's mentioned.

Still, she's beautiful.]

I don't know. A splash of red now and then isn't so bad, but they've overdone it here.

[The atmosphere of this world is heavier than Ferelden during the Blight and he's not sure he wants to be put in this situation again so soon after all the fighting they've had to do back home. Not that he gets a choice in matters.

As the corners of her mouth start to lift, he smiles down at her before kissing her forehead.]

I can't leave you alone for too long. What kind of husband would I be?

Not even a little? Well, okay, I suppose that I can understand. But what about if I were an elf? Or a mage? [Because she's met, or at least heard, of them as well during her time here. Each completely different from the other, and each having made decisions that sometimes aligned, and sometimes differed. It's a bit fascinating to her, truth be told, even if their existence as the Hero of Ferelden likely spelled death for her in their worlds. If she even existed at all.] But thank you. I do like myself as I am, too, mostly.

[He's watching her. Studying her. Likely noting the differences and aberrations that he doesn't remember being there when they last saw each other. Perhaps it's for the best they hold off on that conversation. Let him gather the evidence on his own. That way, when she tells him, it won't come as much of a surprise.]

To put it lightly.

[She leans into his lips, reveling in his touch. It feels like an age since she's last been this close to him. Who knows how long Alistair will be here, or how long she'll be here. Whatever length of time they have together, she intends to cherish every second of it.

Her smile widens.]

I'm afraid I'm the one who's left you alone. Or it feels like it, anyway. [Because of how long she's been here. That's totally what she means and has nothing to do with back home. Nope. Not at all.] Did you run into much trouble getting here? Maker, but they dropped you in at a rough time. [She leans up a bit, mentally kicking herself for not making sure he was all right sooner. Her eyes scan over him, looking for injuries.] We should get you inside the ship. Get you patched up if you need it. Or washed up, at least. And there's food. [Don't mind her, she's going into Wife Mode.]

I... What? No, I haven't. [To be honest, he's not sure he wants to go there. If it hadn't been her that Duncan brought to Ostagar, would things have been differently? Would he have found the strength to finally stand up for himself and take what he wanted? Would he have fallen in love? Would he have survived the Blight?

No, that's too much to contemplate and he is more than happy with what he's been blessed with.]

Maker's breath, woman, if you're bored of me, just let me know now.

[He's teasing, but the thought lingers and frightens him a bit. As it is, he holds her closer. There are enough odds against them and they both know it. No need to make it worse.

Her smile, though.... Yes, just as it should be.]

Nothing that I couldn't handle. It's nice to know that life at court hasn't utterly ruined me for fighting. [And he's a bit grateful to be here in at time of strife. Peace is more of a headache than he wants to think about. It's not as peaceful as it's supposed to be either.] And I'm fine. None of this blood is mine.

I think.

[He's been running and fighting for a while. He might have a few scratches. But, yes, he's going to fully let her take care of him if she wants. Because he loves that.]

I'll tell you about that another time, then. [At least that conversation will be more entertaining, if not slightly confusing, than anything. It won't be as heavy as the one about the time difference, at least. And it certainly won't be as difficult as her having to tell him that back home, she hasn't seen him in almost two years.

His comment gets a milder, watered down version of The Look. Listen, mister.]

That's impossible and you know it. [She taps him on the nose.] None of that. I'll love you until the day I die. [Which is going to happen sooner than she wants, barring a miracle. BUT NONE OF THAT RIGHT NOW. No no. She's not going to ruin her reunion with her husband like that.]

Good to see you in top form, but if you're not sure if none of this is yours, then it's worth looking over. [She looks up at him with a wry smile.] You're going to have to either put me down or keep hauling me and head inside. Either way, we're better off being inside the ship.

[Well, that was nice and efficient. Clearly, this man does have some battle experience. Justice holsters his gun, dipping his head towards the human man.] You were ambushed and you survived. I do not see how that is humiliating.

[Justice does not move to greet the man, but he doesn't avoid him as he approaches either. He senses no ill will in the man--nor has he so far in anyone on this planet that hasn't been Vieziri.]

Much later. [He won't deny her anything. It's impossible. He loves her and since it's not anything that might scar him for life, he sees no reason to not talk to her about whatever it is she wants. The time thing will have to be talked about most definitely, but a part of him is wondering how much he's going to hate that.

When she gives him The Look, even if it's milder, he gives her The Sad Puppy before chuckling and kissing her chastely.] Well, in that case, I should probably make sure that today is not that day. And if you think I'm putting you down after that scene you just caused, woman, you don't know me very well at all.

[He looks over to the ship and down at the mabari.] Are you ready, Kiter? We're going to have to run, but I promise I'll give you the first bite out of anyone trying to eat us.

[As a former Templar and Grey Warden, Alistair would like to think he has plenty of battle experience. But, it was over-confidence that killed Cailan before he was betrayed, and he's always tried to keep his brother's death in mind as a matter of perspective for his own rule. He eyes the gun with a hard stare.

It's like a bow, but better. What the dwarves could do with something like that, he doesn't even know, but he's sure that any of the Smith Caste would kill to get their hands on it.]

It's the ambushing part. Can you just forget that happened? I'd rather it not get back to certain parties that I was nearly killed twice by the same move in the space of two days. I have a reputation to think of.

[ It's only when Alistair speaks that it clicks. The voice is familiar — one he's heard countless times before. A fellow Grey Warden and technically his senior, but who's really keeping track of things like that? No one. ]

You should know I don't just carry those around, Al. [ Rowan winks and knocks another arrow, aiming for the Vieziri's head before he has a chance to get too far. ] Just flail your sword around a bit, you should hit him eventually.

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1st Chant - Just Like Home

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