Glad you like it!
I don't think that can be done. And...it's not really my style. It would probably be better done by someone else and in a drawing.
The Alistair Gush Thread: *Squee*
Débuté par
SurelyForth
, août 10 2010 01:57
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#33202
Posté 03 avril 2011 - 07:17
Lugwy
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Prompt entry.
Apologies for any inconsistencies within this 45-minute piece of tripe that may or may not be relevant to the subject.
Mood music, if you're so inclined. (If you hate trance, this works too.)
---
The darkness of twisted memories and laughing faces slowly gave way to a crushing headache, one that reluctantly roused Alistair from his sprawled, haphazard position on the bed--a kind description given the squalid state of his sleeping quarters. A dim ray of light from the crack in the door peeled into the room and ruthlessly knifed into his eyes, eliciting a whimper of pain from him before he turned away, squeezing his eyelids shut. His hand blindly fumbled about the drawer beside him, looking for salvation, and as soon as he felt his fingers brush cold glass, he gripped it as if it were his lifeline. In a sense, he supposed, it was.
In too much pain to open his eyes, Alistair lifted the bottle slightly, testing its heft. There was still more than enough left--he could feel it in the weight. He nearly missed his mouth tipping it back down his throat, and some spilled down his neck, but he had long passed the point of caring about his personal appearance. Teeth gripping the neck of the bottle, he drank, gasped, and cursed by turns until the sharp edges of his thoughts receded into something more tolerable.
Despite Alistair's efforts to tenderize his brain with drink, he could not help but recall the face of the one who had condemned him to this existence; the one he had called "brother". Despite his steadily growing headache, he could not help chuckling, though it was a bitter chuckle. Daylen's face never failed to elicit emotions from him. Initially, it had been wariness--the ex-templar's knee-jerk suspicion of mages, especially since they met in the wake of his disastrous message with another mage. Then, as time went on, wariness waned into respect as he saw Daylen take up the reins of leadership and begin marching forward, with little more than a handful of treaties, conflicting advice, and his constant reminders towards the others to just call him "Dale".
Alistair could feel the memories regaining their blades, which he quickly dulled with another pull from his bottle. His respect for Dale grew into trust, then friendship, and with another bitter chuckle, he remembered once thinking of that man as his brother. A brother! If he only knew... Sitting on the edge of his "bed", a bottle in his hand, laughing and crying by turns, Alistair mercilessly turned over the memories of the man he once was, the man who had treated Dale as a brother, not knowing of what would happen. He had been so confident. He was so sure Loghain was going to get his just dues. He even let Dale duel the man, fully thinking that the mage would feel the same rage he did, to feel the desire to see justice being done. Instead...
Alistair slammed the bottle back on the drawer, cursed, and wiped a fresh surge of tears from his eyes. He should have been the one fighting Loghain. He should have dealt the killing blow while the man knelt there, helpless and defeated. If he had, it would never have come around to this. All too vividly, he remembered the hurt and anger in Dale's eyes, the mage pleading with him not to go, that they need all the Grey Wardens they could for the archdemon, but...Alistair chuckled again. He had been angry himself. Angry, outraged, defiant. He would rather abandon his family and duty than look at Loghain as a brother. And what had that gotten him? An existence within this cesspit of drunken insanity, interspersed with long, horrible moments of lucidity and regret, watching over his shoulder for those who wanted money without the effort of a job. Anora had the right idea, even if for the wrong reasons. He should've died at the Landsmeet. Dale shouldn't have intervened on his behalf. Sometimes that bastard mage was too forgiving for his own good.
Alistair abruptly stood up, grabbed the bottle and his few belongings, and fled the room as if his personal demons had taken physical form there. He ignored the startled glances from those around him as he slammed open the door and stumbled outside, groaning as he shielded his eyes from the sun's sudden glare. His skin prickled from the cold, and he staggered briefly before a pair of strong hands caught him.
Blinking in surprise, he looked up and stared into a face that was so much like Dale's that he felt faint for a minute. The short copper hair, dark eyes and plump cheeks...the resemblance was uncanny. The man's mouth moved, asking something that was lost amidst the roaring within Alistair's ears, and it took the man shaking his shoulders to snap him back to attention.
"What?" It was amazing how he could still form words through a dry mouth.
"You were staring." The man's eyes crinkled in amusement. Not Dale, then. Dale never possessed an Antivan drawl of that caliber.
"Staring."
"Yes." The man withdrew one hand, though kept the other on Alistair's shoulder. "Though you look like you've had quite a few known drinks. You alright there?"
Alistair snorted, choking back a hiccup. "I'd say I've known a lot of better days, and maybe one or two worse."
The man tilted his head, looking critically at him. "It's hard to tell with your face all puffed out like that, but I'd say you're from Ferelden, correct?"
Alistair nodded.
"Heard it's been through quite a lot after the Blight. Finding non-tainted areas to rebuild and regrow and all that. You know, it makes me wonder if--"
"What does this have to do with me being Ferelden?"
The man blinked, then chuckled. "Oh, I'm sorry. I get carried away sometimes. I was just wondering if you were going to attend the funeral of the Hero of Ferelden. I've also heard the queen herself is coming to do the eulogy." He shook his head. "A funeral, when Ferelden is more in need of able hands to rebuild. Fereldens are so confusing sometimes."
A numbness that had nothing to do with the weather settled into Alistair's bones, and he could feel his hands shaking. Dale...dead? As much as he hated that man for making him who he was now, he never thought of him dead. A roaring filled his skull, and every thought pierced his brain. He had the man and his living flesh to condemn this entire time, but now the mental image felt hollow without the breathing reality. A final betrayal.
Alistair felt the man shaking his shoulder again, but he forcibly moved the hand off. With a mumbled "I should go", he quickly fled into a nearby alley, ignoring the man's calls. He had to get away.
Away.
Away.
Alistair did not know how long he had been half-stumbling, half-running, and he did not care. It was only when he tripped over a rock and fell flat on his face that he finally stopped where he lay, breathing heavily. He reached to his side for the bottle that he dropped, desperate to find a way to escape the encroaching reality, only to find that it had shattered, the alcohol searing the ground before him. Even his salvation had betrayed him.
Staggering to his knees, he huddled his arms around his body and wept bitterly.
Apologies for any inconsistencies within this 45-minute piece of tripe that may or may not be relevant to the subject.
Mood music, if you're so inclined. (If you hate trance, this works too.)
---
The darkness of twisted memories and laughing faces slowly gave way to a crushing headache, one that reluctantly roused Alistair from his sprawled, haphazard position on the bed--a kind description given the squalid state of his sleeping quarters. A dim ray of light from the crack in the door peeled into the room and ruthlessly knifed into his eyes, eliciting a whimper of pain from him before he turned away, squeezing his eyelids shut. His hand blindly fumbled about the drawer beside him, looking for salvation, and as soon as he felt his fingers brush cold glass, he gripped it as if it were his lifeline. In a sense, he supposed, it was.
In too much pain to open his eyes, Alistair lifted the bottle slightly, testing its heft. There was still more than enough left--he could feel it in the weight. He nearly missed his mouth tipping it back down his throat, and some spilled down his neck, but he had long passed the point of caring about his personal appearance. Teeth gripping the neck of the bottle, he drank, gasped, and cursed by turns until the sharp edges of his thoughts receded into something more tolerable.
Despite Alistair's efforts to tenderize his brain with drink, he could not help but recall the face of the one who had condemned him to this existence; the one he had called "brother". Despite his steadily growing headache, he could not help chuckling, though it was a bitter chuckle. Daylen's face never failed to elicit emotions from him. Initially, it had been wariness--the ex-templar's knee-jerk suspicion of mages, especially since they met in the wake of his disastrous message with another mage. Then, as time went on, wariness waned into respect as he saw Daylen take up the reins of leadership and begin marching forward, with little more than a handful of treaties, conflicting advice, and his constant reminders towards the others to just call him "Dale".
Alistair could feel the memories regaining their blades, which he quickly dulled with another pull from his bottle. His respect for Dale grew into trust, then friendship, and with another bitter chuckle, he remembered once thinking of that man as his brother. A brother! If he only knew... Sitting on the edge of his "bed", a bottle in his hand, laughing and crying by turns, Alistair mercilessly turned over the memories of the man he once was, the man who had treated Dale as a brother, not knowing of what would happen. He had been so confident. He was so sure Loghain was going to get his just dues. He even let Dale duel the man, fully thinking that the mage would feel the same rage he did, to feel the desire to see justice being done. Instead...
Alistair slammed the bottle back on the drawer, cursed, and wiped a fresh surge of tears from his eyes. He should have been the one fighting Loghain. He should have dealt the killing blow while the man knelt there, helpless and defeated. If he had, it would never have come around to this. All too vividly, he remembered the hurt and anger in Dale's eyes, the mage pleading with him not to go, that they need all the Grey Wardens they could for the archdemon, but...Alistair chuckled again. He had been angry himself. Angry, outraged, defiant. He would rather abandon his family and duty than look at Loghain as a brother. And what had that gotten him? An existence within this cesspit of drunken insanity, interspersed with long, horrible moments of lucidity and regret, watching over his shoulder for those who wanted money without the effort of a job. Anora had the right idea, even if for the wrong reasons. He should've died at the Landsmeet. Dale shouldn't have intervened on his behalf. Sometimes that bastard mage was too forgiving for his own good.
Alistair abruptly stood up, grabbed the bottle and his few belongings, and fled the room as if his personal demons had taken physical form there. He ignored the startled glances from those around him as he slammed open the door and stumbled outside, groaning as he shielded his eyes from the sun's sudden glare. His skin prickled from the cold, and he staggered briefly before a pair of strong hands caught him.
Blinking in surprise, he looked up and stared into a face that was so much like Dale's that he felt faint for a minute. The short copper hair, dark eyes and plump cheeks...the resemblance was uncanny. The man's mouth moved, asking something that was lost amidst the roaring within Alistair's ears, and it took the man shaking his shoulders to snap him back to attention.
"What?" It was amazing how he could still form words through a dry mouth.
"You were staring." The man's eyes crinkled in amusement. Not Dale, then. Dale never possessed an Antivan drawl of that caliber.
"Staring."
"Yes." The man withdrew one hand, though kept the other on Alistair's shoulder. "Though you look like you've had quite a few known drinks. You alright there?"
Alistair snorted, choking back a hiccup. "I'd say I've known a lot of better days, and maybe one or two worse."
The man tilted his head, looking critically at him. "It's hard to tell with your face all puffed out like that, but I'd say you're from Ferelden, correct?"
Alistair nodded.
"Heard it's been through quite a lot after the Blight. Finding non-tainted areas to rebuild and regrow and all that. You know, it makes me wonder if--"
"What does this have to do with me being Ferelden?"
The man blinked, then chuckled. "Oh, I'm sorry. I get carried away sometimes. I was just wondering if you were going to attend the funeral of the Hero of Ferelden. I've also heard the queen herself is coming to do the eulogy." He shook his head. "A funeral, when Ferelden is more in need of able hands to rebuild. Fereldens are so confusing sometimes."
A numbness that had nothing to do with the weather settled into Alistair's bones, and he could feel his hands shaking. Dale...dead? As much as he hated that man for making him who he was now, he never thought of him dead. A roaring filled his skull, and every thought pierced his brain. He had the man and his living flesh to condemn this entire time, but now the mental image felt hollow without the breathing reality. A final betrayal.
Alistair felt the man shaking his shoulder again, but he forcibly moved the hand off. With a mumbled "I should go", he quickly fled into a nearby alley, ignoring the man's calls. He had to get away.
Away.
Away.
Alistair did not know how long he had been half-stumbling, half-running, and he did not care. It was only when he tripped over a rock and fell flat on his face that he finally stopped where he lay, breathing heavily. He reached to his side for the bottle that he dropped, desperate to find a way to escape the encroaching reality, only to find that it had shattered, the alcohol searing the ground before him. Even his salvation had betrayed him.
Staggering to his knees, he huddled his arms around his body and wept bitterly.
Modifié par Lugwy, 04 avril 2011 - 05:01 .
#33203
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 02:59
Schratty
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Nice to see the prompts back in action. Playing DA2 has really made me miss Alistair.
Here's my offering to the thread: a doodle I did of AliBear
Here's my offering to the thread: a doodle I did of AliBear
Modifié par Schratty, 04 avril 2011 - 03:13 .
#33204
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 07:37
Maria13
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@Lugwy good prompt.
@Schratty, that's very, very sweet...
@Schratty, that's very, very sweet...
#33205
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 08:11
Elysis
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@Schratty : Awesome!! He's so cute ^^
@Lugwy : Beautiful: And yes it is relevant ^^ After all, EAP and poetry in general can be read however we want. But what you wrote is great! Made my heart clench a little.
On a similar note - Do you guys think Alistair would still be bitter like this after so many years? I mean, he's been a drunken fool all this time, feeling sorry for himself, but I would have always imagined him... Realizing perhaps it was wrong of him to leave? That things were not black and white?
@Lugwy : Beautiful: And yes it is relevant ^^ After all, EAP and poetry in general can be read however we want. But what you wrote is great! Made my heart clench a little.
On a similar note - Do you guys think Alistair would still be bitter like this after so many years? I mean, he's been a drunken fool all this time, feeling sorry for himself, but I would have always imagined him... Realizing perhaps it was wrong of him to leave? That things were not black and white?
#33206
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 01:22
bleetman
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Realising it was wrong to leave would just make him more self-destructive, and I'm assuming he does wish he'd not left completely. Teagen doesn't exactly have a hard time persuading him to return, after all.
Modifié par bleetman, 04 avril 2011 - 01:31 .
#33207
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 01:50
Yankee23
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Great drawing Schratty!
It's good to see that prompts starting up again! Remember, we have a group where the prompts and submissions can be linked so they don't get lost in the thread. If there's anyone else that needs to be added as an officer, let me know.
Alistair's Weekly Challenge
It's good to see that prompts starting up again! Remember, we have a group where the prompts and submissions can be linked so they don't get lost in the thread. If there's anyone else that needs to be added as an officer, let me know.
Alistair's Weekly Challenge
#33208
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 03:45
errant_knight
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Good stuff, guys!
I see him having mixed feelings after awhile, wishing that he hadn't left entirely, but not forgiving the warden for sparing Loghain. Even if he knew the secret that Riordan was being so coy about, he'd rather die himself than see Loghain kill the archdemon and be honored, I think. He wouldn't see that death as a punishment, or fitting. It might even make him more bitter.
bleetman wrote...
Realising it was wrong to leave would just make him more self-destructive, and I'm assuming he does wish he'd not left completely. Teagen doesn't exactly have a hard time persuading him to return, after all.
I see him having mixed feelings after awhile, wishing that he hadn't left entirely, but not forgiving the warden for sparing Loghain. Even if he knew the secret that Riordan was being so coy about, he'd rather die himself than see Loghain kill the archdemon and be honored, I think. He wouldn't see that death as a punishment, or fitting. It might even make him more bitter.
Modifié par errant_knight, 04 avril 2011 - 03:47 .
#33209
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 03:52
beggargirl
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In the drunken Ali slides they did say that a few years after he left a group of people claiming to be Alistair supporters tried to fight for the throne. If drunken ali came back to ferelden, he could have been invvolved.
#33210
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 05:39
Lugwy
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Do you guys think Alistair would still be bitter like this after so many years? I mean, he's been a drunken fool all this time, feeling sorry for himself, but I would have always imagined him... Realizing perhaps it was wrong of him to leave? That things were not black and white?
He may realize it fairly early, but it probably would take hitting "rock bottom" for him to do something about it.
...Besides drinking, that is.
Modifié par Lugwy, 04 avril 2011 - 05:41 .
#33211
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 05:45
Auora
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I think that he would find out from other group members(Leliana or Wynne would probably try to find him I think) that a GW would have to die to defeat the Arch Demon, and that he would see that the Warden was just trying to save his life by sparing Loghain.
I think he would forgive him/her. It's hard to harbor so much hate for so long.
I think he would forgive him/her. It's hard to harbor so much hate for so long.
#33212
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 05:55
Elysis
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@Yankee : I wanted to do the listing on the group but can't seem to... Post? 
When I saw Alistair in DA2 it kind of felt like he was still better and childish and had NOT grown up from what happened. At all :/ But maybe that was just me..
When I saw Alistair in DA2 it kind of felt like he was still better and childish and had NOT grown up from what happened. At all :/ But maybe that was just me..
#33213
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 06:09
Giggles_Manically
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On one hand Drunk Alistair is VERY mad at everyone for ruining his life.
On the other hand you dont drink like that just to spite people.
ON the other hand Alistair probably sees the warden as having not really ever cared for them that much.
Yet he goes back with Teagan....
Up for ye olde debate.
On the other hand you dont drink like that just to spite people.
ON the other hand Alistair probably sees the warden as having not really ever cared for them that much.
Yet he goes back with Teagan....
Up for ye olde debate.
#33214
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 06:49
Skadi_the_Evil_Elf
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Schratty wrote...
Nice to see the prompts back in action. Playing DA2 has really made me miss Alistair.
Here's my offering to the thread: a doodle I did of AliBear
:O:O:O:O:wub:
:wub::wub::wub:<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3:wub::wub::wub::wub: Schratty, I love this! I hope you don't mind if I save it so I can admire it on my desktop. This "doodle" is I think, one of the best fan-art portrayals of Alibear.
:wub:
#33215
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 07:00
Yankee23
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Elysis wrote...
@Yankee : I wanted to do the listing on the group but can't seem to... Post?
Hrm...it looks like all group members can post...but I added you as an officer so you should be able to now.
#33216
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 07:06
Skadi_the_Evil_Elf
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Giggles_Manically wrote...
On one hand Drunk Alistair is VERY mad at everyone for ruining his life.
On the other hand you dont drink like that just to spite people.
ON the other hand Alistair probably sees the warden as having not really ever cared for them that much.
Yet he goes back with Teagan....
Up for ye olde debate.
I was actually hoping for a better Cameo/quest from Drunkistair. Bioware could have done alot more with it, I think. Alistair, after all the hate for Loghain and angst of being betrayed by the Warden, coupled with personal guilt and remorse for abandoning his duty as a Warden and betraying everything he was, and drowning his misery in drink; Teagan walks in and says "Bad boy, now get off that bar stool and come home, Eamon needs you for his latest scheme", and Alistair says "ok" and goes with him...just like that?
Somehow, I don't think so. While not out of character for Eamon to send Teagan to fetch Alistair so he can use him to further whatever personal ambition for the throne he has, I think it would be pretty out of character for Alistair, after all that to say "yeah, sure, ok". The events and background of Alistair's exile is far too complicated, as is his own inner turmoil and angst.
Badly handled, I think, but hey, what do I know, I don't write this stuff. Personally, if they weren;t going to bother to flesh out that consequence of origins, I'd have prefered they had left the drunkistair cameo out, or just made him another clickable NPC permanently rooted to his abrstool, who says some interesting lines when you click on him.
#33217
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 07:14
Giggles_Manically
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"This is all Morrigan's fault I know it!"
That one made me lol.
That one made me lol.
#33218
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 07:21
Lugwy
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Perhaps Alistair didn't really care where he was going. He probably thought that, at the very least, it was better than wallowing in his alcohol-fueled hellhole. Then again, perhaps this is a relatively idealistic outlook twisted around in an attempt to justify what BioWare put out.
In regards to the group: Personal inclinations towards participation have been tempered with the group's seemingly inactive appearance. Will possibly attend once things pick up.
In regards to the group: Personal inclinations towards participation have been tempered with the group's seemingly inactive appearance. Will possibly attend once things pick up.
#33219
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 07:21
errant_knight
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I have to agree. While they seem to have put a little thought into the king appearance, and the warden one was pretty straightforward, the exiled one seems like a bit of a throw away.Skadi_the_Evil_Elf wrote...
Giggles_Manically wrote...
On one hand Drunk Alistair is VERY mad at everyone for ruining his life.
On the other hand you dont drink like that just to spite people.
ON the other hand Alistair probably sees the warden as having not really ever cared for them that much.
Yet he goes back with Teagan....
Up for ye olde debate.
I was actually hoping for a better Cameo/quest from Drunkistair. Bioware could have done alot more with it, I think. Alistair, after all the hate for Loghain and angst of being betrayed by the Warden, coupled with personal guilt and remorse for abandoning his duty as a Warden and betraying everything he was, and drowning his misery in drink; Teagan walks in and says "Bad boy, now get off that bar stool and come home, Eamon needs you for his latest scheme", and Alistair says "ok" and goes with him...just like that?
Somehow, I don't think so. While not out of character for Eamon to send Teagan to fetch Alistair so he can use him to further whatever personal ambition for the throne he has, I think it would be pretty out of character for Alistair, after all that to say "yeah, sure, ok". The events and background of Alistair's exile is far too complicated, as is his own inner turmoil and angst.
Badly handled, I think, but hey, what do I know, I don't write this stuff. Personally, if they weren;t going to bother to flesh out that consequence of origins, I'd have prefered they had left the drunkistair cameo out, or just made him another clickable NPC permanently rooted to his abrstool, who says some interesting lines when you click on him.
I also don't think it's a matter of growing up. That's a bit like saying that people with trauma from war or depression should grow up and get over it. Or that it's childish not to forgive what you find unforgivable. A hard line that not everyone follows, perhaps, but not childish. Exiled Alistair hasn't found a way to get past it or a healthier way to deal--and he hasn't managed to push his feelings into a deep dark place that you pretend isn't there. I sure don't think they gave any reason for him to go back, let alone any reason to think that wouldn't end in his death.
@Lugwy--maybe that's it. He doesn't give a damn where he is or what happens, he just isn't up for an argument about it, because it doesn't matter.
Modifié par errant_knight, 04 avril 2011 - 07:31 .
#33220
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 07:39
Skadi_the_Evil_Elf
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errant_knight wrote...
I also don't think it's a matter of growing up. That's a bit like saying that people with trauma from war or depression should grow up and get over it. Exiled Alistair hasn't found a way to get past it or a healthier way to deal--and he hasn't managed to push his feelings into a deep dark place that you pretend isn't there. I sure don't think they gave any reason for him to go back, let alone any reason to think that wouldn't end in his death.
Oh, I agree. I personally do not fault Alistair for his hatred of Loghain or wanting to leave the company of the Warden. What he failed at was at least not going on to fight the Blight on his own, regardless if Anora told him to FO on the next ship to the Free Marches. In my opinion, that is the only thing he failed at.
But becoming a drunk? I think its a logical outcome of Alistair's exile, and one that makes sense for his character. And given all that, and what Gaider posted about the possible personal turmoil in exile, it makes sense.
#33221
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 07:53
errant_knight
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Yeah, I think so, too, and I also see that as his only failure in the situation. And I imagine that Alistair would find that equally unforgivable to sparing Loghain, so the drunk thing makes perfect sense.Skadi_the_Evil_Elf wrote...
errant_knight wrote...
I also don't think it's a matter of growing up. That's a bit like saying that people with trauma from war or depression should grow up and get over it. Exiled Alistair hasn't found a way to get past it or a healthier way to deal--and he hasn't managed to push his feelings into a deep dark place that you pretend isn't there. I sure don't think they gave any reason for him to go back, let alone any reason to think that wouldn't end in his death.
Oh, I agree. I personally do not fault Alistair for his hatred of Loghain or wanting to leave the company of the Warden. What he failed at was at least not going on to fight the Blight on his own, regardless if Anora told him to FO on the next ship to the Free Marches. In my opinion, that is the only thing he failed at.
But becoming a drunk? I think its a logical outcome of Alistair's exile, and one that makes sense for his character. And given all that, and what Gaider posted about the possible personal turmoil in exile, it makes sense.
Modifié par errant_knight, 04 avril 2011 - 08:58 .
#33222
Posté 04 avril 2011 - 09:55
Auora
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Just a thought. Re-writing.
Modifié par Auora, 05 avril 2011 - 02:13 .
#33223
Posté 05 avril 2011 - 02:18
Merilsell
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W00t Meri approves of the return of the prompts (+100) Great work everyone, keep it coming.
Here is my entry. It is actually kind of cheating, I admit...because it is part of a OEaH-chapter I have justly written, but I think it fits for that. After all this quote of The Matrix Revolutions here is so totally true:
It is amazing how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity.
Which is why I'm posting that to the prompt, so yeah...hope you enjoy teh Alistair introspective
----------------------------------------------------
Love was, by all means, a funny feeling.
Not that Alistair had been able to wrap his mind around the fact of actually being in love, even hours after the sparring this still seemed surreal to him. And it probably would stay that way for a long time.
Alistair felt...overwhelmed by something that had been completely alien to him until a few hours ago and was now even more alien after his realization. He didn't know how to handle all these feelings now raving through him since they were no longer restrained within, wasn't even sure if he wanted all that. In fact, he had never expected it to happen to him, the unwanted bastard son of a king. And now where it was undeniably there he didn't know what to make of it or where to go from here.
Love was maddening...and utterly confusing on top of that.
Alistair had done many stupid things in his life before, yet falling in love with his fellow Warden who as a Dalish clearly didn't like humans much, easily topped them all. And all he could do is to helplessly watch the disaster unfolding with him, the sudden lovestruck fool, as the main person. Looking at her was not the same anymore, it had gained a new complicated weight of entrancement he felt at her view, so he tried to avoid to stare at her like the idiot he felt to be.
Not that it would stop those feelings, no, they were a delirious rapture, a distractive force that made it nearly impossible to focus on other things that were not Lenya. Thoughts other than about her were practically non-existent in his head right now and if someone would put him in a corner where he could just be and think about her for hours, he would be a happy man.
Which was scary, in a way. Even more appalling was how love took his little world, turned it upside down and made her the center of it. How could that happen all the sudden? It wasn't that there had been changed something, everything was still the same, everyone but him.
There were no bards popping out from somewhere and singing serenades about love or rainbows filling the sky all the sudden. In fact it was nothing like Alistair had expected it to be, remembering those cheesy books hidden in the corners of the Chantry's library that he had...found. Life was going on as it did, just threaded with a whole lot more...intricacies that hadn't been there before.
Complications that he didn't need while fighting a Blight, objectively seen. Duncan had always warned him, told him that duty always comes first for a Grey Warden. That there were no room for personal feelings and those only would hinder a Grey Warden to fulfill said important duty. Alistair valued those words of his mentor highly of course and saw the truth in them, because love made everything only needlessly difficult. And yet those feelings while maddening and frustratingly confusing, was an experience he already didn't want to miss anymore.
He was in love. In love. Alone this fact was astonishing enough to keep him in a state of awe for long. Hopefully long enough though, so that he'd have the needed time to figure out where to go from here.
“Alistair?... Alistair!” He blinked at the sound of his name, noticing that he had been staring into his bowl of oat porridge for Maker-how long.
Great.
Heaving his head finally up, he gazed into Leliana's face, who looked back at him with a concerned expression. “Are you okay?”
Alistair needed a moment to remember how to actually speak. “Huh?”
“You are not getting sick, are you?”
No. I'm just on the brink of insanity...but thanks for asking.
“I'm... okay. Why?”
She knitted her brows in confusion. “Well your face is all red and haven't even touched your meal, after all.”
He was... what? Slightly panicking, Alistair touched his face with his fingers and could feel the burn in his cheeks or rather how it coursed through his whole being.
Brilliant.
“ Oh, no, no. No.“ Alistair laughed weakly as he demonstratively took the wooden spoon to eat. “See. Totally eating now.”
Oghren snorted. “Hah, I bet you are still upset that Missy handed yer ass back to ya, boy. Heh, serves ya right. But thanks to your losing, I have some silver now.” The dwarf slipped his flask from his belt to take a long pull and grinned at the Warden as he had finished.
“Wow.” He arched an eyebrow, then blinked. “Glad I could help.”
Leliana turned to Oghren, incredulous. “You have placed a bet who would win their sparring?”
“Heh, it was a sodding good idea, I think.” The dwarf looked over to him, still grinning. “ Lemme know when you both spar again. Always can use some coin.”
“Uh-huh.” Distracted by a laughter that was so clearly her, his focus shifted from the dwarf to what was Lenya's frame almost in an instant. She sat with her back turned to the rest of the group and was laughing about something Zevran told her and then, much to his horror and delight started to stretch lazily. Her back arched like a bow and lean muscles rolled under the movement. Shaking her head, her blond hair seemed to shimmer like golden threads in the weak winter sun and he was capable of non but one thought:
Beautiful.
Not that these things really mattered, she could have a hunched back and buck teeth and she would still be beautiful to him, because it was... Lenya. And he could watch her for hours and do little else, which he found kinda creepy as well. He didn't want to gawk into her direction like a drooling lecher, not to mention that it was possibly written on his face now how much her sight thrilled him all the sudden. Alistair blinked and forced his eyes away from her and back to his meal, because it was safer this way.
Right, oat porridge it is.
But what was when she would decide to come over all the sudden and talk with him? That thought prior so normal and threaded with implicitness was now absolute terrifying to him, because she could notice that something had changed, smart and witty and wonderful like she was. Alistair didn't want that, was too busy figuring out for himself what these feelings meant now and what to do with them to let her become aware of it.
Or as in ever.
Eventually, he would have to talk with her again, being her fellow Warden and all that, but right now he would rather attempt to strangle the archdemon with his bare hands than to try getting anything that resembled coherent words out of his mouth when she was near. It had become confusing enough looking at her when she was not near. And then, much to his horror, Lenya stood up and turned into their, his direction, slowly coming closer and all he could do is to think how he needed to run away. So Alistair jolted up from his seat, faintly aware of the pair of eyebrows arched at him at that, so he mumbled the first apology available in his mind, before stalking away.
“I...uhh...need a bath. Yes, totally.“
A bath in winter? Right. Thanks brain. For nothing.
And while he fled away from what was her company, Alistair felt the urge to hit himself for his obvious....obviousness. Could he have handled any worse just now? Well maybe with a sign attached to his forehead with the written letters of “fool in love” and pointing at it while grinning like one at Lenya, but otherwise possibly... not so much.
Maybe he just should dig himself a hole and hide inside of it, to wait until this delirious state of insanity called love was over. Or conveniently use the end of this path he currently walked, which was the shores of Lake Calenhad, and drown himself within its water.
Both options would be definitely preferred and easier for him than to deal with the frightening fact of what it actually meant to be in love.
Here is my entry. It is actually kind of cheating, I admit...because it is part of a OEaH-chapter I have justly written, but I think it fits for that. After all this quote of The Matrix Revolutions here is so totally true:
It is amazing how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity.
Which is why I'm posting that to the prompt, so yeah...hope you enjoy teh Alistair introspective
----------------------------------------------------
Love was, by all means, a funny feeling.
Not that Alistair had been able to wrap his mind around the fact of actually being in love, even hours after the sparring this still seemed surreal to him. And it probably would stay that way for a long time.
Alistair felt...overwhelmed by something that had been completely alien to him until a few hours ago and was now even more alien after his realization. He didn't know how to handle all these feelings now raving through him since they were no longer restrained within, wasn't even sure if he wanted all that. In fact, he had never expected it to happen to him, the unwanted bastard son of a king. And now where it was undeniably there he didn't know what to make of it or where to go from here.
Love was maddening...and utterly confusing on top of that.
Alistair had done many stupid things in his life before, yet falling in love with his fellow Warden who as a Dalish clearly didn't like humans much, easily topped them all. And all he could do is to helplessly watch the disaster unfolding with him, the sudden lovestruck fool, as the main person. Looking at her was not the same anymore, it had gained a new complicated weight of entrancement he felt at her view, so he tried to avoid to stare at her like the idiot he felt to be.
Not that it would stop those feelings, no, they were a delirious rapture, a distractive force that made it nearly impossible to focus on other things that were not Lenya. Thoughts other than about her were practically non-existent in his head right now and if someone would put him in a corner where he could just be and think about her for hours, he would be a happy man.
Which was scary, in a way. Even more appalling was how love took his little world, turned it upside down and made her the center of it. How could that happen all the sudden? It wasn't that there had been changed something, everything was still the same, everyone but him.
There were no bards popping out from somewhere and singing serenades about love or rainbows filling the sky all the sudden. In fact it was nothing like Alistair had expected it to be, remembering those cheesy books hidden in the corners of the Chantry's library that he had...found. Life was going on as it did, just threaded with a whole lot more...intricacies that hadn't been there before.
Complications that he didn't need while fighting a Blight, objectively seen. Duncan had always warned him, told him that duty always comes first for a Grey Warden. That there were no room for personal feelings and those only would hinder a Grey Warden to fulfill said important duty. Alistair valued those words of his mentor highly of course and saw the truth in them, because love made everything only needlessly difficult. And yet those feelings while maddening and frustratingly confusing, was an experience he already didn't want to miss anymore.
He was in love. In love. Alone this fact was astonishing enough to keep him in a state of awe for long. Hopefully long enough though, so that he'd have the needed time to figure out where to go from here.
“Alistair?... Alistair!” He blinked at the sound of his name, noticing that he had been staring into his bowl of oat porridge for Maker-how long.
Great.
Heaving his head finally up, he gazed into Leliana's face, who looked back at him with a concerned expression. “Are you okay?”
Alistair needed a moment to remember how to actually speak. “Huh?”
“You are not getting sick, are you?”
No. I'm just on the brink of insanity...but thanks for asking.
“I'm... okay. Why?”
She knitted her brows in confusion. “Well your face is all red and haven't even touched your meal, after all.”
He was... what? Slightly panicking, Alistair touched his face with his fingers and could feel the burn in his cheeks or rather how it coursed through his whole being.
Brilliant.
“ Oh, no, no. No.“ Alistair laughed weakly as he demonstratively took the wooden spoon to eat. “See. Totally eating now.”
Oghren snorted. “Hah, I bet you are still upset that Missy handed yer ass back to ya, boy. Heh, serves ya right. But thanks to your losing, I have some silver now.” The dwarf slipped his flask from his belt to take a long pull and grinned at the Warden as he had finished.
“Wow.” He arched an eyebrow, then blinked. “Glad I could help.”
Leliana turned to Oghren, incredulous. “You have placed a bet who would win their sparring?”
“Heh, it was a sodding good idea, I think.” The dwarf looked over to him, still grinning. “ Lemme know when you both spar again. Always can use some coin.”
“Uh-huh.” Distracted by a laughter that was so clearly her, his focus shifted from the dwarf to what was Lenya's frame almost in an instant. She sat with her back turned to the rest of the group and was laughing about something Zevran told her and then, much to his horror and delight started to stretch lazily. Her back arched like a bow and lean muscles rolled under the movement. Shaking her head, her blond hair seemed to shimmer like golden threads in the weak winter sun and he was capable of non but one thought:
Beautiful.
Not that these things really mattered, she could have a hunched back and buck teeth and she would still be beautiful to him, because it was... Lenya. And he could watch her for hours and do little else, which he found kinda creepy as well. He didn't want to gawk into her direction like a drooling lecher, not to mention that it was possibly written on his face now how much her sight thrilled him all the sudden. Alistair blinked and forced his eyes away from her and back to his meal, because it was safer this way.
Right, oat porridge it is.
But what was when she would decide to come over all the sudden and talk with him? That thought prior so normal and threaded with implicitness was now absolute terrifying to him, because she could notice that something had changed, smart and witty and wonderful like she was. Alistair didn't want that, was too busy figuring out for himself what these feelings meant now and what to do with them to let her become aware of it.
Or as in ever.
Eventually, he would have to talk with her again, being her fellow Warden and all that, but right now he would rather attempt to strangle the archdemon with his bare hands than to try getting anything that resembled coherent words out of his mouth when she was near. It had become confusing enough looking at her when she was not near. And then, much to his horror, Lenya stood up and turned into their, his direction, slowly coming closer and all he could do is to think how he needed to run away. So Alistair jolted up from his seat, faintly aware of the pair of eyebrows arched at him at that, so he mumbled the first apology available in his mind, before stalking away.
“I...uhh...need a bath. Yes, totally.“
A bath in winter? Right. Thanks brain. For nothing.
And while he fled away from what was her company, Alistair felt the urge to hit himself for his obvious....obviousness. Could he have handled any worse just now? Well maybe with a sign attached to his forehead with the written letters of “fool in love” and pointing at it while grinning like one at Lenya, but otherwise possibly... not so much.
Maybe he just should dig himself a hole and hide inside of it, to wait until this delirious state of insanity called love was over. Or conveniently use the end of this path he currently walked, which was the shores of Lake Calenhad, and drown himself within its water.
Both options would be definitely preferred and easier for him than to deal with the frightening fact of what it actually meant to be in love.
Modifié par Merilsell, 05 avril 2011 - 02:31 .
#33224
Posté 05 avril 2011 - 07:55
Lugwy
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- Members
- 110 messages
Merilsell wrote...
It is amazing how similar the pattern of love is to the pattern of insanity.
Because it is insanity. Curious that the brain activity of infatuation is highly similar to that of psychosis.
By the way, that was an impressive prompt, with an entertaining subject matter. Opinions on foul play will be disregarded.
Modifié par Lugwy, 05 avril 2011 - 07:58 .
#33225
Posté 05 avril 2011 - 03:08
Merilsell
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- Members
- 2 927 messages
Yankee23 wrote...
It's good to see that prompts starting up again! Remember, we have a group where the prompts and submissions can be linked so they don't get lost in the thread. If there's anyone else that needs to be added as an officer, let me know.
Alistair's Weekly Challenge
Is it possible to make me group leader too, Yankee? I need to renew the prompter list and hence cold handle the officer thingie too...since half or more of the people on the current list are not participating in it anymore. I will add the links to the group for so long, but I won't be there every week.
You are welcome however to be a prompter too for good old sake or be creative...well everyone is, of course. It's nice to see some of the old faces lurking in here, really
@Schratty('s pic)
