A late response to the prompt...
Before you read on, I just want to give you guys fair warning on the poor grammar.
I wasn't going to do this, so here goes nothing... *runs away and hides*
Prompt sentence: "There were times Alistair almost wished he'd never left the Chantry."
It had now turned into a full blown argument and sarcastic banter between the mage and the former templar. Alistair had anticipated this, but was amazed at how fast it resulted to it. Listening to the other man's rising inflection in his voice, he soon found himself bracing for whatever spell the Circle mage might throw at him. He remembered this one showed some particular fondness to using fire as an offensive strike. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad, he thought jokingly. He had been feeling a bit chilly lately this far down south and a little fire would be nice. So long as he doesn't destroy his hair in the process.
There were things that can certainly shorten a man's life, such as facing darkspawn and drinking their blood. But he's beginning to believe that arguing with this man can be added to that list. Maybe to every minute spent watching his mouth move in an angry and animated manner is a year taken out of his already shortened lifespan. If only the mage would just turn into an abomination, at least that could be easily dealt with. A Pity. It’s Tuesday, too.
"And here I thought we were getting along well. I was going to name one of my children after you. The grumpy one," he said sardonically. He just couldn’t help it and mentally kicked himself for fanning the flame. But he figured there was not much he could do. As far as he was concerned the damage was already done the moment he agreed to carry the task for the reverend Mother. A simple enough task - tell the mage that he is being summoned - but not if the messenger is a formal Templar. And before Alistair opened his mouth, the man immediately took offense. Why did he agree to do this?
From his remark, the mage took on a darker look and Alistair soon found himself moving his hand to his head - well, his hair actually. He eyed the other man's hands to check for any signs of fire about to shoot out of his fingertips, and if anything he would have to rely on his Templar training and hope that he'd be able to resist the spell if it comes down to it. But luckily, instead of burning his cheeky ass to a crisp, the mage simply stormed off, but not without a scathing response to end the heated conversation. He watched him walk away and could've sworn a storm cloud was slowly forming above his head.
As grateful as he can be for being rescued out of the Chantry there were times where he'd almost wish that he had never left; that was definitely one of those moments. Things were so much simpler then when…
"Ahem."
The sudden noise startled him out of his thoughts and immediately he turned to the source.
At the top of the ramp that led to the openly exposed structure where he stood in the middle of, was a woman dressed in travel stained leather armour. How long she had been standing there he doesn't know, but from the slightly amused look on her oval shaped face, he judged that she might have caught the last few minutes of the show that he and the mage had performed. Suddenly he found himself feeling a little embarrassed.
Before he could utter a greeting, she began to move towards him, and he couldn't help himself but notice her movement and the way she carried herself. There was litheness in her step and her cat-like-on-the-prowl walk told him that she was experienced in combat that favoured the more canny approach. Suddenly aware that he was staring, he immediately corrected himself by changing his posture to a more formal appearance hoping to look more polished and obedient. Maybe if he looked that way she wouldn’t think him the leering soldier who gets excited when he sees a woman with swords.
“You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together,” he heard himself say, hoping to lighten the mood. The woman rose an eyebrow at what he thought was a funny remark and gave himself another mental kick when he saw no signs of amusement from her. Smooth, Alistair. That went down like butter.
She continued to stare at him with her pale green eyes for a few short seconds that seemed like hours. She had a penetrating gaze, he thought, and something about the way she looked at him suddenly made Alistair feel very aware of himself and absentmindedly bring his hand to his hair again, trying to smooth the non-existent mess.
To his surprise, a small smile formed at the corners of her lips and heard what sounded like a soft chuckle.
“You are a very strange man” she said in good humour.
Now it’s Alistair’s turn to raise his eyebrow. “Oh? You’re not the first to say that.”
This time the reaction was more promising as she gave a short lighthearted laugh at his response. It was sincere…and melodious, and soon he found the tension and the awkwardness lifting.
“Intriguing. You must be Alistair. I’m Marion.” She extended her hand in greeting and Alistair took it in kind. She had a firm grip, and he firmly gripped in return.
“Indeed I am!” Intriguing? Interesting… “You must be the new recruit Duncan just brought in,” he continued as she nodded in response. “Well, as the junior member of the order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining.”
They continued on in a polite conversation, with her asking about the order, Duncan, and the ritual. The latter made him a bit uneasy, knowing what was in store and tried his best to steer away from the topic. But despite that, he was enjoying the sudden turn of events. Before he was all but ready to jump in a pit full of corrupted giant spiders, and now he finds himself enjoying a conversation with a woman who seems to appreciate his sense of humour.
He wasn’t sure what it was – her easy smile, the friendly casual manner, or the way she cheekily responded to his remarks in turn – but Alistair suddenly found himself feeling somewhat comfortable in her company. Unbeknownst to him, he was smiling, and before he realized, Marion noticed and took in an amused expression.
“Something you find funny?” She asked.
"What? Oh! I was..." He stammered. And in betweens the "um's" and the "ah's" he was frantically trying to find an answer that would avoid making him look foolish. "You know... it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?" Too late. With every word that escaped his mouth, there was a panicked "No, no, no! Don't say that one" voice of reason shouting in his head. He cringed internally, as he thought she would take offense. It seems to be the thing he's doing today.
"Maybe because we're too smart for you," she said with a playful tilt of her head.
This surprised him; he wasn’t expecting this. He was anticipating the kind of reaction he had often received by the sisters back in the Chantry. Whenever he’d voiced a remark that most often played to his sardonic sense of humour, he would often receive either lectures about proprieties, a roll of the eyes, or the eyebrows of doom followed by a turn of the shaking head and walking away.
"Oh, and what does that make you," asked Alistair in relief.
"Just one of the boys." A wry grin spread across her lips and Alistair was thankful to feel the awkwardness melt away…again. She seems to be good at doing that, he thought.
“Anyhow, whenever you're ready let's head back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started." He decided to end the conversation for fear of shoving his foot in his mouth again. It was something he didn’t want to risk doing, especially when around an attractive looking woman. Where did that come from?
“Lead on,” she said, interrupting his thoughts again, and added, “I think it’s only fair I get to watch you walk this time.”
Alistair took a few steps ahead then suddenly stumbled slightly as it finally registered what she implied. Maker! She noticed I was watching. He didn’t turn back to look at her, afraid what sort of expression she held on her face; that and he didn’t want her to see him blushing. He heard her laugh, and this time it was livelier than the one she gave earlier, which made him blush a deeper shade of red.
Not knowing what to say and how to react, he kept walking and tried to maintain some semblance of composure. She wasn’t what he expected. And somehow, despite feeling a little embarrassed, he found that…intriguing. No, not like the Chantry sisters at all.
*off to work* -__-
:O Just wait 
:whistle:. I would share some new pics but all I have right now is BamBamastair and Rageastair snap shots 
Retour en haut
