Had the urge to write another Alistair piece entitled "Whine, Women, and Song". Enjoy!
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"She's doing it again", Alistair motioned at the red-headed Chantry sister who was deep into the song's second Chorus.
The Warden shrugged at his companion.
"Thats it, a shrug? Leliana is singing and we're in the Deep Roads. And do you know what happens when she sings in the Deep Roads? Echos. And you know what follows echos? Deepstalkers. Lots and lots of Deepstalkers."
"Well ask her to stop."
"Absolutely not. I got a smudge on her Blue shiny shoes you had just given her while we were back at camp. If that Bard ever learned how to turn a pout into a deadly weapon you'd have been talking to an imaginary Alistair in your head this whole time. Besides did you ever get around to telling her you got those off a corpse? A man's corpse. Who was wearing them at the time?"
The Warden shook his head no, "He tripped on the heels and broke his neck. He wasn't going to use them anymore anyway."
"Okay, now you sound like Bodhan or - or Zevran", Alistair spoke while pantomiming pointy ears with his index fingers.
"If I was going to sound like Zevran I'd have an accent like... zis my fair Templar. Oh how you look zo attractive in your poofy Templar uniform. Watching your sinewy muscles ripple and flex as you change is quite the delight, my Good Knight", he grinned while walking with a familiar Antivan strut.
"First off, Ew. And second, never ever - EVER do that again. If you're going to force me to be King that shall be my first decree."
"No one is forcing you to be King," the Warden's grin dropped. "You just kind of - have to be King."
Alistair sighed and began fiddling with his shield, "Yes, have-to's always find a way into our lives. Hey Grey Wardens you have to save Ferelden from the Blight. Hey Grey Wardens you have to take my smart mouthed, wicked daughter with you so she can laugh at your failings. Hey Grey Wardens you have to take me with you so I can sing and get your shins nipped at by bitey cave creatures. And so on and so forth."
"Morrigan isn't that bad. In fact she can be kind of sweet in- her own way", he offered.
"You're just saying that because the Taint has somehow effected your judgement. I don't blame you, it happens. As Wardens we all take on a bit of madness for the good of the- OW!"
The Warden gingerly rubbed his reddened knuckles, while Alistair adjusted a strap to his shoulder armor
.
"See you punched a man's shoulder while he was wearing full plate. Madness! But seriously, Morrigan? Why not - the Songbird? Sure she is Orlesian AND a Chantry Sister but some people like that kind of - kind of - exoticness mixed with an odd occupation for the kind of women they are attracted to."
"Now you're just babbling, Alistair."
"See? Madness!"
They shared a chuckle as they marched ahead of their foursome with Alistair taking point and his fellow Warden keeping an eye on the walls and ceiling for any errant Spiders or maybe an imaginative Genlock with a knack for free climbing. After a time the Warden's head turned and he caught sight of the dark haired Witch who was currently keeping her distance from Leliana and her latest harmonic cacophony.
"Again with the goo-goo eyes?"
The Warden turned and waved off his friend.
"Honestly, what do you see in her? Beyond the - the admittedly attractive - uhh - features and womanly ... shapeliness. Okay, now I'm lightheaded."
"Enough! Why are you so worried about me and my love life."
"Love? Now I'm just queasy and you're obviously delusional."
"What about you? Why don't you go and woo - Leliana, if you find her so great?"
"Me?" Alistair smacked his gauntlet to his chest, "And Leliana?"
"Yes, what of it? You are the one who keeps bringing her up."
"Well - she is - a woman."
"Wynne is a woman too."
"Yes but she is a mender of socks and giver of advice not..."
"A licker of lampposts?"
"GAH! Don't put that mental - I need to sit a minute."
"So now you're just dodging the question. You. Leliana. What of it?"
"It wouldn't work - not at all, you'd think the whole Templar/Cloistered Sister thing would be the stuff of compatibility but its just not. She has experience and has travelled, loved and lost, all that intrigue and Bardic adventure. And I'm - the forgotten son of -"
"Blah blah blah blah", the Warden cut him off.
"Fine, you're right thats not the real excuse. Its you - you're the problem. She practically stumbles over herself when she talks to you at camp. Plus you shower her with gear and gifts. And those flowers you found near the Dalish Camp just had her crooning your name all night from her tent."
"Now you're just being creepy."
"No! Our tents are next to one another. SHE SINGS ALL THE... ugh. I'm done with this conversation. Lets move on oh Witch hunter."
"Yes, lets go, Bird watcher."
The two Grey Wardens locked eyes for a moment.
"Did you hear that?" Alistair asked.
"I heard squeaking", the Warden answered back.
"Was it hungry squeaking?"
The Warden nodded.
"I hate the Deep Roads", the future King of Ferelden said while drawing Duncan's blade.
Modifié par Esbatty, 14 décembre 2010 - 09:33 .
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