The last section with picture was done after the contest because I thought Alistair would have something to say about the fact that she was the third runner-up, given her attitude about entering.
Lis Cousland isn’t a PC, but is a character from my upcoming story, ‘Remnants Enduring.’ She didn’t become the PC and so didn’t meet Alistair or his companions until years after the blight. While this uses characters and refers to events from my story, it isn't part of it, but is just something for fun.
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Portrait:
“That’s the portrait you’re going to give them?”
“It’s the only portrait I have, Alistair. What’s wrong with it?”
“You mean besides the fact that that you appear to be longing to snap the necks of small children? Well…The painter got your face wrong.”
“Wrong? How so?
“It’s…too long and…your mouth is too wide. Just look at all that chin! And there’s something wrong with your neck.”
“I’m going to assume you’re talking about the portrait.”
“Hmm…? Oh, of course I’m talking about the portrait—Maker, Lis! Why do you look so vexed, anyway? Fergus told us that you didn’t enjoy sitting for it, but….”
“I love my brother, but he has a big mouth.”
“Come on, tell. I want to know.”
“I planned to wear my armor and the painter insisted I wear that dress. As did my mother.”
“You look angrier than that.”
*silence*
“Lis?”
“The painter kept going on about how very difficult I was to paint, and how some women had such graceful and delicate features that their portraits practically painted themselves. It was irritating.”
“Nothing wrong with strong features. Have you seen my nose? Of course you have! It’s probably blocked your view in combat. Seriously, though, your parents really shouldn’t have hired a painter with such poor vision, m’dear. I’m going to commission a painting that does you justice--full length in a heroic pose. And in armor. When things settle down.”
“And by ‘settle down,’ you mean ‘if we live.’”
“Yes, well, ‘settle down’ sounds more encouraging, don’t you think?”
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Attire:
“Lis, I think you should wear my armor for this contest thingy.”
“What’s wrong with my veridium plate? It’s excellent armor—strong, comfortable, well-built. I like it.”
“It’s very good armor, but not…”
“Shiny? Colorful? You’re a magpie, Alistair.”
“I’m a magpie of refined tastes. That armor would look wonderful on you.”
“We’re supposed to wear our own things.”
“And what’s mine is yours, so no problem. Just…wear the armor, Lis.”
“What difference does it make? I’m only doing this so that you can talk to the nobles in attendance and gain their support while I’m prancing about to no good purpose. I just hope it’s not too humiliating.”
“Humiliating? What are you talking about? Why would it be humiliating?”
“Andraste’s ass, Alistair! You saw those women. I didn’t know women like that existed. I look more like their brother than one of them. A brother who doesn’t have to shave, true, but a brother, nonetheless.”
“Is this about not having a dress? I thought you didn’t like dresses. We can go get you a pretty dress. We can get you two! They can’t cost more than a couple sovereigns, right? Come on, let’s go!”
“It’s not about a dress, Alistair.”
“Then…what? If it’s not about a dress, then I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. Why are you smiling like that?”
“I love you, Alistair.”
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Action:
“So, what battle are you going to tell them about, Lis?”
“I’ll just tell them about some of the bandits we’ve fought. There’ve been plenty of those.”
“Bandits? That’s not very exciting. What about the fight in the Deep Roads, or—”
“I don’t think the Bannorn needs to know the worst of what we encounter, do you? After the blight, and what happened in Amaranthine, they know too much about that already. Let them sleep well in their beds. We can worry about the rest of it.”
“I suppose you’re right. Still, I’d like them to see you as I do. You’re hiding your light a bit.”
“Better that than bragging and terrifying them. They think the darkspawn are gone, and the less they think about blood mages, the better.”
“We’ll get him, Lis.”
“Sodding right, we will.”
*silence*
“I know! Tell them about what you did during the blight. How about when you tried to go south to find Fergus and ended up rescuing those refugees and seeing them to safety in the north?”
“You weren’t even there, Alistair. How do you know I wasn’t shaking in my boots and cowering behind the wheel of a wagon?”
“I know because I know you. And only stupid people don’t shake a little when facing a horde alone, so if there was shaking, it’s a credit to your intelligence. Fighting when you’re too dim to know there’s a problem isn’t brave, it’s just…dim.
*silence*
“Okay, if you don’t want to talk about that, how about fighting alongside Teagan’s forces in the Battle of Denerim?”
“I’m just going to tell them about the bandits, Alistair.”
*silence*
“At least tell them about one of the times we were really outnumbered.”
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Pose:
“We haven’t worked on your training for a few days, what with all the fighting, Lis. We should do that.”
“Okay, good idea.”
“How are those concentration exercises going?”
“They’re helping, I think. My will feels more focused.”
“Let’s see a smite. Here. Smite this apple.”
*smite*
“Wow. Hot and destructive! Excellent! A good teacher wouldn’t have noticed the ‘hot’ part, of course, they would have been paying more attention to your form. Which I was. Better do that again so I can notice your form in a ‘good teacher’ way, instead of a way the Chantry would disapprove of.”
*smite*
“Still excellent, but try to bring your hands in tighter before you spread your arms. I have no idea why it helps, but it does. You know, it’s too bad you can’t tell those contest people about your templar skills. I can’t believe how quickly you’ve come along.”
“I had a good teacher whom I wished to please…. That’s a very naughty grin you’re wearing, Alistair.”
“Not my fault. You have no idea what you look like when you smite things. Or what that does to me.”
“You think not? I see you smite things, too, you know.”
“So what you’re telling me is that we should make a habit of smiting things before bed?”
*silence*
“Here, smite this apple, Alistair.”
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After the Contest:
“What are you smiling about, Alistair? You look like the cat that ate the canary.”
“Pigeon.”
“What?”
“Big cat—old joke. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“The joke? Yes. At least delivered that way.”
“The contest. You thought it was going to be that portrait thing all over again, didn’t you?”
*Silence*
“Maybe.”
“And it wasn’t.”
“I still think they made a mistake.”
“And I know they didn’t. Remember that fight we had—the one where you asked who I saw in the mirror, because it wasn’t me?”
“You mean the one where I said you have the awareness of a dead fish?”
“Oh, very nice. It’s a good thing you’re smiling right now or I’d be all sad. And here I’m trying to say nice things.”
“Really? I thought you were bringing up the time you called me a bossy know-it-all.”
“I never said that. I just didn’t correct you when you said it. Anyway…. You clearly suffer from the same mirror problem, and because I don’t have the awareness of a dead fish, I know that what you were really saying is that I needed to think better of myself. So, Pot, come along with Kettle and let’s go celebrate.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I have all kinds of things in mind, but let’s start with dinner.”
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(A larger picture of the battle scene is here:
http://s1193.photobu...action-3-lg.jpg
Click on the image to make it larger.)
Modifié par errant_knight, 04 mars 2011 - 07:53 .
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:lol:
