(no subject)

[bringspeopletogether]

It feels like half of Denerim's been cluttered with merchant's carts since the coronation. Lots of the rich and fancy journeying to meet their new king? It's a prime spot for hawking wares. Never mind the rubble, or the filthy alleyways, or the bloodstains some people haven't quite gotten off the walls yet -- come take a look at this beautifully crafted sword or those lovely silks!

They've even got some limited edition souvenirs. When Alistair took a peek one evening, the merchant practically fell over himself to give him a set for free.

Which means Alistair's over by the fire with a half-finished pint of ale, a nice beef stew...and two hand puppets. One of him and one of Queen Anora.

So what if the souvenirs were supposed to be for children? They're kind of funny.

(You know. In that way where he has to laugh or he might go mad. Nobody needs the king to go mad this soon into his reign.)

Comments

[freedom_is_grey]

"Are you practicing conversations?"

Ysalwen eyes the puppets askance.

"Do you want me to pretend to be Anora? Would that -- help?"

Liranan bounds up next to her, tail wagging excitedly. Hi Alistair! Hello!

[bringspeopletogether]

"It would make for a nice way to rehearse," says Alistair thoughtfully, eyeing the puppets as well -- albeit with much less skepticism. "But no, they're just something I picked up in Denerim. It's an uncanny likeness, don't you think?"

(Puppet-Alistair's face is literally just a smiley face stitched onto the cloth.)

As he makes the Alistair puppet wave a greeting, "Hello again. And hello to you, too, yes!" That's to Liranan, in a somewhat sappier voice.

[freedom_is_grey]

"Hopefully this one won't hurt you when someone pokes it with a pin."

What?

Liranan puts his paws up on Alistair's legs in an attempt to lick his face.

"But it is certainly uncanny."

Seriously, seriously uncanny. Both of them.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair will never mind face-licking from Liranan! Even if he has to squinch up his face first.

Once the Ritual of the Mabari Greeting has been accomplished, he lifts an eyebrow at Ysa. "...Don't tell me that's what Morrigan was doing."

Sharp pains out of nowhere, Morrigan snickering -- so much is finally explained.

[freedom_is_grey]

Ysalwen scuffs one of her boots against the ground.

"Okay, I won't tell you that."

Or that she gave the doll to Morrigan.

Um.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Oh, good," he says with exaggerated relief. "My naïveté will live another day."

He plucks the puppets off his hands in favor of grabbing his ale. "What have you been up to?"

[freedom_is_grey]

Her mouth quirks at one corner.

"I do all I can to preserve it, each and every day."

Yes. That.

"As for me, traveling, mostly. The Crows have come out of their boltholes and are going after Zevran again, so -- we're leading them a bit of a merry chase just now? Or I am, while he goes and takes care of things at their source."

[angry_friendship_wolf]

You know who's interested in hand puppets? This bright yellow lizard wearing a wolf pelt, currently poking his head up by the side of Alistair's chair with covetous eyes.

"You have a hand puppet of yourself," Gabumon says, with something approaching awe. "And a puppet of ... of ..."

He pauses, glances at Alistair, glances back at the puppets, back at Alistair, back at the puppets, Alistair, puppets, Alistair, puppets, Alistair, puppe - ...

"Angry female you."

Their hair colours are sort of similar! And that's what counts.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair makes a noise that is very pointedly not gyah! It's more like the tiny choking noise you'd get if you started to say gyah, got your wits about you, and swallowed half the noise down before it could get out. Because you're a dignified person like that.

...It also leads to a brief spate of highly undignified coughing.

Puppet-Alistair flails about for a couple seconds in lieu of the actual Alistair speaking; when he's finally recovered, he manages a weak, "Yes, that's a very apt description of her, I think. But most people just call her Anora to her face."

[angry_friendship_wolf]

"I'll make sure to do that if I meet her!" Gabumon says, and beams proudly.

Obviously, he'll recognise her. Because of the hair.

"Do people call you Anoro, then? Anorato? Anoru?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Alistair," he offers, rather quickly, in an effort to stem the tide of name suggestions. "My name's Alistair. Er...what's yours?"

Does the lizard-wolf-thing have one? Will Alistair have to make up one on the spot, too? Is making up names part of lizard-wolf-thing cultural tradition? So many questions.

[angry_friendship_wolf]

"A-li-stair," Gabumon repeats, then sticks out a paw. "I'm Gabumon. Where did you get the puppets from? Did you make them?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Shaking someone's hand (well, paw): never the easiest task when both your hands are occupied with puppets. Rather than doing the logical thing, i.e. removing the puppets from the equation, Alistair settles for grasping Gabumon's paw between puppet-Alistair's stubby little arms. It's like getting a handshake from both of them!

Or something.

"Er, lovely to meet you, Gabumon," he says. "No, someone actually...made them for me, kind of? A merchant back where I live."

(Puppet-Anora nods agreement.)

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah's been watching the red-haired gentleman from across the room for a moment, trying to determine just where she's seen his face before. It takes her a minute but it comes to her eventually. He was in the Infirmary briefly, the night they returned from the blizzard. He must have been part of the other rescue party.

Thus it is that the tall woman with the copper skin and the long black hair approaches Alistair with a soft smile on her lips.

"Those look suspiciously like festival favors." There's an amused lilt to her tone. She may recognize how strange it is to see a toy made of your own likeness.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair looks up, and straightens further as recognition dawns; he glances from the puppets and back to Dejah.

"Something like that, I suppose," he says, wiggling the arm of the Alistair puppet like it's waving hello. "It's Dejah, right? How are you?"

The last question carries genuine concern. Actually, he...probably ought to have this conversation sans puppets. Alistair gets to work yanking them off.

[dejah_thoris]

"Yes. I'm sorry, in all the confusion, I didn't get a chance to get your name. Or to thank you, genuinely, for all that you did for us. I am in your debt, sir."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair waves a freshly de-puppet-ed hand, smiling faintly. "I was glad to help," he says. "Honestly, it was more fun than I've had in weeks. And -- it's Alistair. Of Ferelden."

He'll happily maintain the illusion of just being another commoner from Ferelden for a bit longer.

"Are you friends well, too?"

[dejah_thoris]

"Alistair of Ferelden," she repeats, dipping her chin a bit. "Yes, yes they are, thank you for asking. Both of them are doing quite well."

She settles next to him and gestures to a wait rat to bring her usual. "So -- fighting giant ice spiders is your idea of fun?"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Oh, good," he says, with no small measure of relief. "I'm glad to hear it."

None of them looked particularly good in that short glimpse Alistair got. Had Dejah and Ysalwen's team reached the men just minutes later, Alistair's pretty certain they would have been dead.

(...Doubly dead? He's still not sure how that works aaaaaand doesn't want to dwell on it anymore because frankly it's kind of creepy.)

"Normally they're not ice spiders, and they're not quite that large, but, well..." His grin's a bit sheepish now. "It's invigorating to whack things with a sword. I used to do it a lot more frequently."

[stilljustandrew]

"Oh hey," says a possibly familiar voice. "Alistair, right?"

It's Andrew, with a diet root beer in one hand, a bagel with cream cheese and lox in the other, and a magazine tucked under one arm.

[bringspeopletogether]

It'd sound more familiar with static crackling through it, but Alistair gets the gist! He looks up and smiles.

"Yes, that's me," he says. (Maker, it is so nice to hear someone say his name without sticking something like 'king' in front of it.) "And -- Andrew, was it?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah, hi -- I don't think I've seen you since --"

A pause.

"Is that a puppet of you?"

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair exchanges a glance with puppet-Alistair. "So it would seem," he says, a touch resigned, before brightening anew. "It's quite the likeness, though, isn't it? I think they captured my nose especially well."

(The puppet doesn't have a nose.)

[stilljustandrew]

A faintly cockeyed glance. "Well, uh ... they didn't make it too big, that's for sure."

[bringspeopletogether]

"And that's all I ask." Cheerful.

Alistair shucks off the puppets and grabs his ale. "How have you been? Is everyone well after the terrifying amounts of snow and ice that blew in on the backs of a few dragon-sized spiders?"