AU Week

[bringspeopletogether]

In the little church out on the Milliways grounds, four things are there that weren't there last night.

One: the remains of a candle, burned down to a wax puddle.

Two: a statue of Andraste, six inches high at most, stationed next to what used to be the candle.

Three: a nearly empty bottle.

Four: a templar, fast asleep on a pew near the front, who had an unexpectedly difficult time of it recently.

He's snoring a bit. It might be audible from outside.

Comments

[freedom_is_grey]

Is it the memory of services uncounted, or the dream of such ceremonies, or both, that calls Ysalwen of Arlathan here?

Perhaps a little of each, and curiosity besides.

Her footsteps are silent, though small globes of light float in the air about her, lighting her path.

She bids several of these up to the ceiling, casting something like candlelight on the church below.

And the sleeping being who tastes both of the Elvhen, if faintly, as well as the blood of the Stone. And something else besides, something foreign and fast-burning.

Ysalwen settles herself in a pew to watch him. And watch over him. And see, perhaps, what he makes of the world when awake.

[bringspeopletogether]

It takes some time. The snoring continues, on and off; every so often, he paws at his nose fitfully, like he's chasing away a bug.

But eventually, Alistair's eyes open -- and immediately snap shut again as he groans, much louder than the snoring, and claps a hand over his eyes. Even that faint candlelight (is it candlelight?) hanging in the rafters feels like a knife to the eye. "Ugh. Maker."

He fully expected the bottle to take its revenge come morning, but still...ugh.

[freedom_is_grey]

"No," says a sweetly musical voice, bell-like and deep (for a woman).

"There is no Maker here. Unless that's who gave you whatever has made you so ill. I can almost taste it, myself, so intense are the fumes."

And the memory of pain.

[bringspeopletogether]

Still covering his eyes, Alistair gingerly swings his feet to the floor and hunches up over his knees. Ow. Ow.

"...What?" he thinks to ask after a moment.

There's -- someone else here. (Not Cullen.) When did that happen?

[freedom_is_grey]

"This seemed like a poor place to sleep, so I thought to make sure nothing disturbed you until you woke. I think sleep is the word, at least. It seeps around the edges here often enough."

The Elvhen don't sleep, exactly. So it goes.

[bringspeopletogether]

His thoughts churn sluggishly, working to catch up to what the woman's saying. About half of it makes sense. The half that doesn't...yeah, he's entirely too hungover for that.

Alistair does manage to lift his head, though, squinting in the direction of the voice.

...Wow.

He has definitely never seen an elf like that before. Even just the way she sits commands a presence that'd fit better in a palace than in one of the alienages. Maybe she's Dalish? Except -- no tattoos. Huh.

[freedom_is_grey]

"Do you need something for your head?"

Maybe it's the squinting that makes this elven woman think he needs some kind of medicine.

(It's not.)

[bringspeopletogether]

"...Possibly," he admits, grudgingly. "D'you have anything on you?"

He squeezes his eyes shut again. Seriously, how can candlelight be that bright.

[freedom_is_grey]

"Nothing that I can be sure will work, honestly. But I can try. Your matter isn't so different from what we wear."

Because that doesn't sound strange at all.

[bringspeopletogether]

A long pause.

"All right," says Alistair, as pleasant as possible, as he begins kneading his temples. "See that bottle over there? I did not share it with anyone last night. Keep that in mind and say what you were saying again with smaller words this time?"

[freedom_is_grey]

She flicks her finger at the bottle, and it rolls toward her hand. She lifts it up, sniffing the opening, and makes a face.

"I can make you feel better, but it won't be using anything you would need to consume. The world that clouds your footsteps feels like mine, a little, but -- different. I assume you know what magic is, then? If you're drinking the blood of the earth. There's little reason to use it, else."

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair's fingers still at his temples.

Very slowly, he lowers his hands, and folds them in his lap.

"No," he says, calmer than he feels. (It doesn't sound calm; not really. It sounds flat.) "Don't do that."

[freedom_is_grey]

"No?"

Her tone isn't arch, just curious.

"You prefer the pain, then."

[feminine_menace]

There is the creak of hinges, and the soft taps of a four-legged creature's claws on the floor of the chapel.

A snuffling noise. A cold scaly muzzle and more snuffling. An inquisitive "Burf?" accompanied by a hot, stinky breath. Which is followed shortly thereafter by a slimy tongue.

[bringspeopletogether]

"Ngh."

Alistair, unwillingly dragged to wakefulness, scrunches up his face. His stomach lurches at the smell before settling again; feebly, he tries to push the animal away. "Gerroff -- "

Oh, Maker. Ow. Why. His head feels like someone dropped the entire Tower on it.

[feminine_menace]

It may not help that someone outside the chapel is shouting. "Fido! Fido, where the hell did you get off to? Are you chasing those rabbits again?"

At the sound of the shouting, the dog-lizard-thing responsible Alistair's rude awakening comes to attention with a "Yarp!"

[bringspeopletogether]

"Ow -- "

Alistair cringes, shoulders going up like he could block his ears. He rolls onto his side -- miraculously, without falling off the pew -- and covers his face with one hand. "Not so loud," he begs, strangled.

[feminine_menace]

The church door opens, and light spills in (sorry, Alistair). Silhouetted in the door is a petite female figure. "Fido?" she says.

Fido - the lizard-dog - pants excitedly. Look, YT! Fido found a new friend!

[bringspeopletogether]

A new friend who groans again, piteously, and slings his whole arm across his face in an effort to block out the light. "Please stop that."

Is he referring to Fido's panting, the woman calling for her pet, or the light streaming in through the door? Trick question: the answer is all three!

[feminine_menace]

YT takes in the groaning, disheveled stranger and the nearly-empty bottle. It's not hard to put two and two together. She takes pity on him and closes the door (quietly).

Now, if Alistair can bear to open his eyes, he'll be able to make out details: blond hair, light armor in orange and blue, submachine pistol on the left hip, big knife on the right boot. She approaches him cautiously, taking something from her belt pouch. She crouches down beside his pew and extends her hand. "Here," she says, speaking quietly. "It's an electrolyte capsule, it'll take the edge off. You can chew it."

YT is only making this offer because Fido evidently likes this guy, for some reason.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistar manages to crack one eye open. Bleary, he focuses on the little pill; manages to shift his attention to the woman's face a few beats later.

"Thank you," he mumbles, reaching for the capsule. It takes a little fumbling before he gets it out of her hand, and another moment before he gets it to his mouth.

...he probably should've asked what an electrolyte was before he started chewing. Maybe it's a poison. Oh, well, too late now -- if he drops dead, at least the hangover'll be gone, too.

[feminine_menace]

"You're gonna need fluids too." YT stands up. "Don't go anywhere."

(That's a joke.)

YT slips out the church door and Fido follows. Several minutes pass, and then there's a "Yarp!" outside before YT comes back in with - I kid you not - a picnic basket. The basket turns out to contain a jug of water, a smaller jug of orange juice, and some cups. YT fills a cup with water and holds it out to Alistair.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair peeks out from under his arm again. This time, he even manages a weak smile, colored with disbelief when he catches sight of the basket.

"And it's not even my birthday," he croaks. With great care, he pushes himself up onto one elbow, and accepts the glass from the woman. "Thank you."

[feminine_menace]

"You're welcome," says YT.

"Burf!" says Fido, as if this was all his idea. He pants happily at Alistair, then at YT.

YT sits down on Alistair's pew a meter or so away from him, with a glass of orange juice. She feels a little weird being in a church. She hasn't been in one since she was eleven and is kind of wondering if she should feel guilty about that. Although doing a good deed now that she's (finally) in one has to count for something, right?

Fido places his head in YT's lap. She reflexively gives him skritches, right on that spot in front of the first spine. "Is that a Virgin Mary statue?" she asks, her eyes on the little statue of Andraste with the melted votive candle next to it.

[bringspeopletogether]

Alistair chances a sip of the water, then another. All signs point to it staying down. Good.

"Huh?" he says, blankly. Pressing the side of the water glass to his forehead -- it's nice and cool, which puts a bit more of the headache on the retreat -- he manages to follow the woman's gaze. "No. Andraste. It's mine, I'll..."

A vague gesture.

"Clean that up later."