entrancelogs | [Semi-Closed] Isn't it a little early for a mid-life crisis?

Entry tags:

[Semi-Closed] Isn't it a little early for a mid-life crisis?

Who: Alistair & Mystique + others maybe
Where: Around Wonderland
When: April 22nd and several days after
Rating: PG-13, talk of death
Summary: Alistair has gotten first-hand experience with Wonderland deaths and he really needs to just not think about anything for a while thanks.
The Story:

[Waking up had been a surprise, no matter what he'd heard before. It wasn't the first time Alistair had fallen and expected not to wake up again but this time was different. This time he didn't come to with an old woman looking down at him and telling him that all his comrades bar one had died. That was the good part. That other bit? The actually dying bit after feeling himself eaten away by that fungus? That was really not good.

He'd known since shortly after he became a Warden that he didn't have a long life ahead of him. And after Ostagar, with a Blight and an archdemon and a civil war to contend with, he'd known that he could die at any time. That his chances of surviving it all were small. But it had never been so immediate. So real. And he'd never expected it to be fleeting. It's unnerving in so many ways, twisting inside him and making him wish he found prayer as reassuring as so many of the other boys at the monastery had. But the Maker never answered any of his prayers before and when he tries his thoughts just chase themselves in circles and the words won't come.

It's too quiet on his own with only a cat to talk to - a cat that does his best but their conversations do get a little samey after a while. So he goes in search of company, with a mewling kitten squirming in his arms and climbing his shoulders all the while. He starts by checking in on his friends here in Wonderland, knocking on their doors and waiting hopefully for a response, difficult to ignore with the cries of his feline companion to alert people to his presence.

Eventually he finds himself wandering the mansion and grounds (mostly) alone in search of company. He can be heard coming a mile away, loud mewling broken up by words.]

I know! [And-] I think you have a point but have you thought about the mess it will make?

[Alistair is quick to interrupt his current conversation as soon as he spots someone - anyone - else to talk to.]

Look Purrlock, company!

[And if his smile seems a little forced and his words even more boisterous than usual, well, the last event was hard on everyone right?]

[OOC: This is mostly for pre-arranged threads but if you want something just PM me or hit me up at

fetchquesting.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She's been avoiding people too, since the event. She's always maintained to people that she isn't a hero - being in the spotlight has always been too much pressure, too much thinly-veiled anxiety for her to be able to handle it for more than a few minutes before the instinct to disappear into the shadows takes over. The event had been much the same - there had been a threat, and instead of going out to help people, she'd isolated.

It hadn't been until the event was over that it had even occurred to her that she should've made sure that Alistair (and some others, including that little girl) was all right, and the pang of guilt upon finding his room empty of signs he'd been there in the last few days was enough to bring an uncomfortable knot into her throat (and yes, she'd broken into the room with some careful lockpicking).

The knock at her door interrupts her reading (she's learning to speak Spanish, a common distraction for the aspiring polyglot), but the mewling is what draws her curiosity and attention.

Opening the door and seeing Alistair there is a bit much for her to take, considering, so hopefully he doesn't take too much offense to the tight hug she draws him in for.

There had been two possibilities when she'd found his room empty. From what she'd seen from the network (the posts she'd combed through, late at night) if someone was going to disappear for good, their room would too -- so that left the more sinister of the two options to assume on.]

....you're back.

[She lets that hang in the air, pulling back enough to open her door further. It's an invitation, if he wants to take it.]

[He's in the middle of attempting to shush the kitten when the door opens and Mystique appears. Alistair smiles hopefully, mouth opening to greet her when she pulls him into a hug. He freezes for a moment in surprise before wrapping an arm around her in return - the other occupied with keeping Purrlock from pouncing on this new playmate and ruining the moment.

He certainly has no problem with being welcomed like this but she can doubtless feel the way he tenses when she speaks, wincing unhappily at the words.]

How did you- You noticed?

[He'd sort of hoped that no one would have noticed his... absence. If no one knew they wouldn't ask what had happened and he wouldn't need to think about it. But it looks like he's out of luck there. And yet he can't say part of him isn't pleased in a way that Mystique noticed and cared that he was gone. Even if he hates that he worried her.

Taking the invitation, Alistair steps inside and offers a tentative smile, glancing around the room curiously. Like the rest of the mansion there's no sign of what recently transpired here and it makes it all feel unreal. The mansion changing before had been strange but it was stranger to see death and destruction here and then for it to all vanish without a trace. He's not ready to think about it though so instead nods at the book he can see discarded nearby.]

I just wanted to see how you were doing, I'm not interrupting am I?

[She notices the flinch right away, and pulls back from the hug abruptly to study his face. It's a curious situation they find themselves in, she thinks -- after the way their last interaction had gone, though it had ended positively, she'd felt -- well, anxious. It had been too easy to revert back to her solitary ways when the zombies had started attacking, and by the time she'd remembered she should've checked on Alistair, it had evidently been too late.

She shrugs her shoulders, trying to pass dropping by his room and finding it empty off as less of a big deal than it had felt at the time.]

I thought I should check on you after all the craziness of this event, and you -- uh, weren't home.

[She shakes her head hurriedly once he asks whether he's interrupting, though.]

And no, you're not. I'm -- glad you stopped in.

[It reassured her to know he was still worried about her, too, but did nothing to assuage the guilt she felt about not finding him during the event itself.]

I think I got off easier than a lot of people this time around. I guess holing yourself up like you did when you were a child has its advantages.

[The laugh she releases is awkward and forced, and she's well aware of that as soon as she lets it out.

Well, this was going terribly so far.]

Um. No. I guess I wasn't.

[Is it too late to pretend he'd just been hiding out somewhere else when Mystique stopped by his room? Even if it's not, he can't lie to her. Avoidance is more his style. And it's easy to focus on her and what she was doing during the mess instead, the awkwardness in her response bringing a worried frown to his face.]

Hey, I think most people found somewhere safe to wait it out. It was the smart thing to do.

[Hence why he and most of the people he knows from home didn't do that. And he's far happier knowing Mystique was tucked away somewhere safe and not facing those things. Maybe she could have handled them just fine but their bites were dangerous and, well, she is naked. Unless she could shape-shift into something armoured that wouldn't be in danger of being bitten or breathing in whatever it was that also made people change then her best choice was to have stayed safe. There would have been nothing gained by her throwing her life away.

Moving further inside now that he knows he's welcome, Alistair deposits the mewling kitten on the floor and steps over to Mystique. He tentatively reaches out, lightly clasping her shoulder and smiles faintly.]

I'm glad you're OK.

I mean, I guess people who're brave aren't always the smartest.

[Her eyes track the kitten for a moment in favor of not meeting his until he clasps her shoulder and speaks. She lets out a small puff of air through her nose and glances up at him.]

More or less.

[She doesn't know whether she should ask what it was like to be dead, for that was the only thing she could think of that would raise the sort of reaction out of him that she'd just gotten. It seemed awfully rude to ask someone what it was like just so that she could be more prepared if it happened to her; at the same time, it might be a thing he'd like to talk about.

If that's the case, she reasons, he'll bring it up himself.

She drops down on the edge of the nearby bed, hand reaching up to tug him down next to her if he'll allow it.]

Are you? Okay, I mean.

I take offense at that.

[Even though he'd basically said the same thing himself. It was different when he said it.

He's tempted to press her and find out exactly what's bothering her - he can make a few guesses but if it's something Mystique wants to talk about he'd rather that than, well-]

Me? I'm fine. [It's unconvincing even to his own ears and now it's his turn to watch Purrlock romp about rather than meeting her eyes. Dropping down on the bed beside her Alistair sighs and clasps his hands in front of him, hunching in on himself unconsciously.] It's just...

I, ah.... I guess since you noticed I was missing you might have guessed what happened. I mean, I wasn't sent back to Ferelden. [Going back to face an archdemon would have been preferable for once.] You do know what... can happen to us here, right?

[If not he really doesn't want to have to be the one to explain that extra layer of craziness on the already heaping pile of crazy that is Wonderland. He will if he has to but that promises to be only a slightly better conversation than the current one is turning into.]

[She's always struggled to fit in herself -- struggled with whether she even wanted to fit in, honestly -- and sometimes that made it easy for her to think she was the only one on 'her' team. That wasn't true here, though: no matter what she thought of the other people in this place, they were all stuck here against their will. That should be enough to make her want to band together with them.

It isn't, though, and she has to wonder if that isn't some sort of personal defect.

She pulls herself from that depressing line of thinking when Alistair starts talking, nodding along with his words.]

--Yeah, I know what can happen. What's happened to some people here.

[She knows that if you die too many times -- five seems to be the most anyone's managed to do it, so far -- then something gets taken away. The idea of death being impermanent is horrifying enough in and of itself without adding that particular twist to things.]

I just didn't know if you'd want to talk about it or not.

[She glances down at her bare legs, lifting the one Erik shot her through up onto the bed and running her thumb over the barely-there scar.]

Serious injury's traumatic enough. I can't imagine -- more than that, you know?

[That makes things slightly easier then. In a way. He doesn't have to explain but they're back to the thing he's trying not to think about. Maybe they both need a distraction.]

I don't know if I want to talk about it either.

[His attempt at a smile falls flat and he shifts on the bed, wondering if pacing will help with the tension and the churning in his gut. Just as he's about to get up Mystique shifts, drawing one leg up to thumb at it. It's hard to see the scar but even so he guess that's what it is, that she's thinking about what left it. Alistair has his share of scars too, though a lot less than he would if it weren't for magic. And he's had some unpleasant experiences getting them.

He nods and leans against her lightly, shoulder-to-shoulder, offering what reassurance he can and taking it as well. They're both here and they're in one piece. If he concentrates on that maybe it will help.]

I've had some close calls before too. Less close thanks to magic but. [But a dagger or poison still hurts even if the wound quickly heals.] I guess I should just think of it like that. Magic. Really powerful magic.

[Less comfort than he'd hoped. Just what kind of magic could bring the dead back? What would it cost? Even Andraste's ashes had only worked on the living and those were from the Bride Herself. To actually bring the dead back...]

[She doesn't usually use humor to disarm a situation, but in this case it seems like it might be appropriate. She snorts, leaning her head in against his shoulder as he comes to rest weight on her as well.]

I mean, this one's from an ex-boyfriend trying to kill me.

[The funny thing was, she didn't exactly blame him for trying it. At the time, it might've seemed to him like the right thing to do -- and in hindsight, he realized that it was incredibly stupid. Trask had been after her DNA, and he'd left plenty of her blood at the scene where he'd shot her, not to mention the smears he'd left on the street dragging her across the pavement using the bullet still lodged in her leg.]

From what I understand of magic, that's probably what it is. I mean, you didn't wake up in a hospital or hooked up to some sort of weird machine, right? If it was science, I feel like that would've happened.

[She's more than happy to take the distraction rather than talking about his death.]

What gets me is that this place is just like nothing happened. It's bizarre.

[Despite his less that happy thoughts Alistair tentatively wraps an arm around Mystique's shoulders, as much for his own comfort as anything else. Hopefully she won't mind even as he shakes his head at how casually she says that.]

I don't know if I should ask.

[It sounds like at least one of her past relationships was... complicated though. He may not have any experience with break-ups but he's pretty sure they don't normally end in attempted murder. Unless you're Orlesian.]

No. Nothing like that. I was just... back where I'd been before.

[Like magic. Or waking from a particularly bad dream, which you'd think all his experience with during the Blight would help. But no. So Alistair is equally happy to seize upon another topic of conversation. Maybe he'll circle back around to less pleasant topics later but at the moment he'd rather discuss anything else.]

Right? It's almost weirder than when we end up somewhere else. It's enough to make me think it must be something like the Fade. But I don't think we're all stuck in a dream.

[Much as he'd wanted to believe it to be the case when he first arrived. If Wonderland is just a dream though it's even more realistic than the one the demon in Kinloch had tried to trap them all in. And weirder. Much, much weirder. And more uncomfortable at times.]

I'm sure you'd be shocked to hear that it's a long and somewhat complicated story.

[She's also pretty sure they don't normally end in attempted murder -- but to be fair, the attempted murder had happened long after she'd considered her relationship with Erik to be over -- his being held captive under the Pentagon had kind of cramped their style early on.

She's somewhat relieved to hear that there's no solid scientific explanation for what happens to them when they die. Maybe it really is just some sort of odd magic, like the rest of this place -- and that probably reduced the chances of this place putting all sorts of weird stuff in them while they were dead, right?

She's certainly not going to bring up that cheery thought.]

Well, like you said -- it could just be some really powerful magic. Things like that are beyond our control right now.

[With his arm around her shoulders, she's happy to settle in against him with a fingertip casually tracing up his side.]

Really. I thought it would be something simple and boring. [And while Mystique is joking about the story and so it doesn't seem like something she still struggles with, given how it came up he feels the need to offer-] It's none of my business. But if you want to talk about it.

[She's willing to listen to his problems and, more to the point, if it's something that bothers her he wants to be able to help.

Frankly, the idea of magic powerful enough to... raise the dead is unsettling enough on its own for him. The closest he's ever heard of to such a thing is Wynne and the spirit that saved her life when she was dying. But he's pretty sure he's not possessed. He spent some time trying to figure that out but Wynne had known it was there, said once she could feel the spirit so he doesn't think that's how Wonderland does it. Which means-]

Right. Powerful, impossible magic. That's reassuring.

[Time to talk about something else. And given he's had something else on his mind along with Wonderand's magic that's an easy jump to make. Squeezing Mystique's shoulder he looks down at her.]

Do you... believe in the Maker? Where you're from, do you have- Do you believe in Him?

[She's still adjusting to someone actually wanting to know about the uncomfortable situations she'd found herself in throughout the last decade. Charles, for certain, hadn't seemed interested in asking her how she'd been. Then again, they'd been under -- stress. She just shrugs.]

I don't even know what I'd talk about. It'd been a lot of years since I'd last seen him, and he greeted me with a gun pointed at my head. He was trying to do the right thing, he was just -- misguided.

[But then he's off and back to the magic thing, which leads around worrisomely fast to the Maker. It takes her a second to realize exactly what he's talking about, but when he asks if she believes in Him (and it seems like the sort of thing that's capitalized, out of respect) she only frowns a little.]

There's a lot of people in my world who have a lot of versions of a God, or gods. But whether I believe in Him specifically...

[And now it's her turn to be a little bitter, but also a little worried she's saying the wrong thing,]

...No. Not really. It's hard to believe there's someone who'd put a brand new group of people on the planet and just abandon them to be hurt.

[And being raised by Charles, someone so heavily influenced by the sciences...it just made sense to her that He was just a comfort for people.]

You're a lot calmer about it than I'd be.

[And far more forgiving. If one of his friends turned on him and tried to kill him he's not sure he'd given them a second chance, misguided or not. He'd struggled enough with Zevran's inclusion in their party and the assassin had been a stranger when he tried to kill them, not someone Alistair trusted. For all that forgiveness is often preached it's not an easy thing for anyone to offer.]

Oh. [He knows there are plenty of people who don't believe in the Maker or Andraste. The Dalish, the dwarves, the qunari. And Alistair has never been particularly interested in spreading the Chant or anything like that. It's not faith that determines whether or not someone is a good person. He doesn't need her to share his. But certain things do make him question what he's been taught and what the Maker's role in it all is.

But that's not Mystique's problem. Nor does he want her to think he's upset she doesn't share his faith. Offering a faint smile he quickly kisses her cheek, pulling away almost immediately to stare at his knees.]

That's fair. It just... all this got me thinking about Him. [A shrug. It's the sort of thing he can talk to Leliana about if he wants to. She knows the Chantry's teachings while Mystique doesn't.] Forget I brought it up.

Well, it's been a while and I've had time to cool off.

[And she'd also both held him at knifepoint and then shot him through the side of the neck for his troubles, so there was that. She certainly wasn't going to share those bits of information with Alistair, though, lest she sound like a complete lunatic.

It's no small weight off her shoulders that he doesn't seem upset about her lack of faith. It was just hard to remain optimistic about the presence of God when your parents tried to kill you and most of the rest of the world seemed to be trying to do the same every other day.]

I mean, I don't mind talking about it.

[She pauses.]

And I don't think it's stupid, either, if you're worried about that. I wish I had some sort of higher power that I thought I could answer to, but I've just been so used to being on my own that it seems ... right, I guess.

You weren't together at the time, were you? When he tried to kill you?

[Because that's got to be the worst way to end a relationship short of him successfully murdering her. The only positive Alistair can take from the story is that, no matter what happens with them and how it might end up, they won't be near as bad as that. Which is a selfish thing to take away. But maybe just a little encouraging too.]

I don't know that the Maker would be much help when it comes to feeling alone. Not the way the Chantry tells it. [What with having turned away from them and all.] It never helped me there anyway. But other stuff. I mean, I hope He listens to our prayers. [Even if they don't get answered, he believes they're still heard.] And when... when you die. You go to His side.

[Except not here and that's.... that's a thing. And he understands the importance of faith he does, but sometimes it would be nice to get a sign. That isn't in the form of a crazy Chantry sister claiming she receives visions from the Maker. A believable sign. Which isn't going to come so he should just be grateful that, however it works and whatever the cost of that kind of magic, he's still here and still has a chance of finding a way home to fulfill his duty.]

I don't think we ever technically broke up, but he got himself put into a pretty secure super-prison after a botched assassination attempt I didn't even know about -- so after the five year mark, I thought it was pretty safe to say we could see other people.

[Not that she had actually done so, but still. As he goes on about this 'Maker', she has to wonder what sort of benefit this guy really has going for him.

She nods.]

I guess it's kind of weird to not have that happen here, then -- what with all the super-powerful magic.

[She's not going to touch the 'what if the Maker doesn't really exist' thing with a ten-foot pole.]

I think that my brother raising me to lean pretty heavily on science probably didn't help with developing any kind of faith, either.

Huh. [OK then. An assassin. And one she'd waited five years for so it was definitely a serious relationship. Until the attempted murder.] I'm not sure what to say.

['Sorry about your past relationship that didn't officially end and led to an attempted murder' just doesn't seem right. And while it's hard to think positively of someone who'd tried to kill her with that kind of history, the fact that Mystique doesn't appear to hold grudge is enough to suggest she really cared for this man and thought he was a good person.]

I promise to tell you if it ever looks like I'm going to disappear for that long.

[If he can. Because he wouldn't have been able to if it weren't for Wonderland. So... maybe not. Which would have been the case for this past man too if he ended up in prison. Right. He should keep his mouth shut.

Or talk about something a little easier, even if Mystique's brother's still seems like a sensitive subject.]

Your scholars don't believe in a higher power? Most of ours are part of the Chantry.

[Or mages which was close enough.]

[She rubs her neck.] I'm kind of making it sound weirder than it was at the time, I think.

[She hadn't gone into the background of why he'd tried to kill her, after all - he'd thought that by doing so, he'd be protecting hundreds, if not thousands, of future mutants from being hunted down by machines enhanced by her blood. That's why she understands the logic, if not his execution (pun intended) of his plan.]

I appreciate it.

[She's glad for the shift in topic, truthfully, and although Charles was a painful thought, talking about him wasn't so bad.]

And no, a lot of them don't. I think it goes back to the church being very against the idea of 'evolution' in the first place and being mad at people for claiming that humans evolved from monkeys, or something.

[Or at least -- that sounds more or less right from what she can remember from Charles' endless droning lectures on the topic.]

It's actually hard to believe someone would be a scientist and a member of the church. There's a lot of limitations and restrictions placed on someone when they're a member of the church where I'm from, so they wouldn't be able to do the experiments they needed to so they could learn new things.

[Somehow, that explanation doesn't seem like it would make the story less weird or confusing. So maybe it's better to just leave it at that.]

I'll take your word for it. [Because he's pretty sure that there's no way to not make it sound worrying and weird.

So. Instead of that it's humans and monkeys. That's a thing. Alistair's only seen pictures of monkeys and they do look a little bit like humans but not that much. Maybe he's misunderstanding something. Either way, it's probably not going to help to tell her that the Maker created them all as they are.

Safer by far to focus on the second part that actually makes sense to him.]

I guess it's the same with the Chantry. They have so many rules about what is and isn't acceptable. Some of them there are good reasons for. [Like the rules against studying blood magic.] But there's plenty that there don't seem to be any reasons for.

[Though he's no scholar so maybe all the things people are forbidden to study are with good reason. But there are plenty of Chantry rules that he was sure had just been made to make life miserable for anyone stuck in a monastery.]

...yeah, thanks.

[Okay, she's going to make a mental note to bring up Erik in the future as little as possible... because this is, for the most part, just sort of awkward and uncomfortable. She doesn't press the evolution issue, knowing better than that from the small amounts of things she knows about Thedas, and raises an eyebrow.]

My brother would say there's no reason to restrict anything in the field of science, but I think he's also a lot more -- stupid and optimistic than most of the population. People have done pretty horrible things -- experimentation, to say the least -- in the name of science. He just doesn't think about things like that, so maybe in your world it's good that the Chantry has some restrictions, or at least people to monitor things.

The Chantry's restrictions don't always stop people from doing terrible things. [He frowns, remembering that old Warden mage, Avernus, in Soldier's Peak and things he'd done in the name of research and extending his life.] It seems like there's always going to be a few people who will do that sort of thing. [Much as he wishes it weren't so.] But most people are better than that.

[Like he thinks Mystique's brother believes and it's important to remember that fact. And this is turning into a cheerful discussion, isn't it? Not especially surprising all thing considered but maybe it's time to try and think of something more pleasant to talk about.]

[She's not all that surprised that Alistair is much like her brother with his optimism. As long as she is able to be there to be the voice of reason for the two of them, perhaps it isn't so bad.

She understands that Alistair probably doesn't want to delve deeper into this pit of despair, though, so she too tries to think about what might be a better choice of conversation.

...well, there's at least one thing she can try to do. She leans in to kiss him, half-smiling.]

At least one person is.

[That's definitely a good distraction. Alistair leans into the kiss after a moment, surprised and pleased. His cheeks are faintly pink when he pulls back - it's going to take time to break that habit - but he's smiling.]

Tell me something else about you. [A little abrupt but they're already sharing personal stories - not entirely pleasant ones so time to fix that.] An embarrassing story or something good you remember. And then I'll do the same.

[He did want to get to know her better. What better time to do so?]

[She has surprisingly few 'good' stories, and most of her embarrassing stories are overtly sexual and probably not appropriate for someone she's trying to woo...so it takes her a good couple of seconds of looking thoughtful for her to come up with much at all.]

I'm a really bad cook. I've tried to learn since I was a teenager, because I thought it was stupid for Charles to have servants who made us food -- but every time I pick up a recipe, it somehow ends in disaster.

[She pauses.]

Once I tried to cook an egg in the microwave, but I didn't take the shell off and I wrapped it in tin-foil -- that's metal -- and not only did I light the microwave on fire, but the egg exploded. Totally gross.

At home I mostly lived on free hotel breakfasts and on-mission dinners. It isn't so bad.

So -- yeah, trust me when I say cooking you dinner should probably be off the list of potential dates.

[Well at least Alistair always has plenty of embarrassing stories to share. He can pick up the slack when it comes to distractions. And making Mystique laugh.

It is funny to think of her trying to cook after growing up with servants - like picturing the Arl or someone working in the kitchens. Even as a trainee in the Chantry, cooking was mostly left to the kitchen staff so he can't say he'd do much better.]

I'd be willing to risk it. It might be fun, so long as no one catches us making a mess of the kitchen. [And she can show him those magic cooking boxes he's heard about that can set things on fire. It would be an adventure, complete with dangerous challenges to overcome.]

I don't want to make you feel bad but I'm an excellent cook.... If you don't mind traditional Ferelden food. Some people seem to think it's too bland and you shouldn't just cook everything until it's a nice grey mush but what do they know?

[Except for how to make food that actually tastes good but that's just un-Ferelden. And appealing. And far beyond what he was taught which amounts to nothing.]

...We're lucky the magic mansion is willing to make food for us.

Traditional Ferelden food is gruel. Well, given what I know about the Templar order in your country, I can't say I'm surprised it sounds more and more like a prison state.

[She's joking, mostly.]

Lucky that this place provides things for us at all, except when it doesn't.

[She's often wondered about why exactly that was, other than to keep them more or less contented most of the time.]

Hey! [That's his country and also maybe his country your insulting there Mystique.] It's not that bad! We just like to keep things simple.

[And the food isn't always as bad as he makes out. Just sometimes. When he's cooking or it's at one of the shabbier inns around. Besides, even the worst Ferelden cuisine is still miles better than dwarven fare.]

You can't judge Ferelden on the templars, that's just not fair.

[What she knows of the templars and, more importantly, why she knows about them reminds him that there's something he should share there.]

I, ah, should probably tell you that. I was originally trained as a templar myself.... I never took my final vows but I do have all the skills.

There's a difference between 'simple' and 'cooked to the point of becoming a homogenized paste', though. I'm just saying.

[She's properly surprised at the turn the conversation has taken so far, all this considered, but she supposes if he was raised in part by the 'Chantry' it would make sense they'd try to indoctrinate him into their creepy cult-culture.

She raises an eyebrow.]

So you can shoot weird blue lights at people and neutralize magic, but you don't have to be tethered to the extremely problematic order? I mean, that seems kind of -- ideal.

I was exaggerating!

[He sticks his tongue out at her. How dare she insult his home. Only people who have slogged through the mud and the cold and eaten the food can insult it. Unlike the Templar Order which most anyone can insult.]

Weird lights huh? That's one way of putting it. [Fairly accurate too.] It's maybe not ideal... [As proud as he is to be a Warden it does come with its own problems. Still better than the alternative though.] But basically yes. I was lucky to get away from the Chantry. They don't normally let their templars go.

[She doesn't seem bothered to hear how close he came to being another skirt-wearing drone thankfully but they are well past the point where he might start calling her a demon and try throwing around weird blue lights.]

I guess that covers my something.

-- yeah, I'd say so.

[She smirks, though, unsurprised to hear that the Chantry is possessive of their templars. Most of the reason she isn't bothered by how close he came to being one of them is how he's talked about them so far -- he obviously doesn't condone most of their behaviors.]

I guess I should be glad you didn't end up with the templars. They seem like they don't have much fun.

_{[Anders has seen plague decimate more than one town in his time. He'd known spores in the air could be bad in such a small, contained area, very bad, he just hadn't been prepared to find out how many people had died or were absent in the days following the event. Some of them people he knows.

Having failed to come back to his room, Alistair counts among the unaccounted for. Anders should know--he's been checking.

Not being able to get in contact with his fellow Warden had left him on high alert, anxious and trying not to show it, and he'd been making regular passes around the mansion and to Alistair's room to see if he'd make a reappearance. Odd to think of people drifting in and out of this place, and in and out of death, like vagabonds passing through a crossroads, but there's nothing else for it. Anders doesn't have much of a choice but to wait and see what happens, and make sure Alistair's cat is fed in the interim.

Feeling helpless is not something he enjoys, and he enjoys picturing Alistair dead even less. As a result, the morning he makes his customary stop and finds Alistair's room has an occupant in it again, he's overjoyed with relief.

Here's hoping Alistair wasn't hoping for a quiet start to the day because there's one mage in Wonderland eager to burst in and reunite with his future king.]}

You're here! Thank the Maker. I was beginning to wonder.

[Since he woke up sometime earlier in the morning Alistair has been stuck between wanting some quiet time to sort through his thoughts and needing a distraction so he didn't have to think at all. He's still struggling with the decision when the choice is made for him.

He jumps as someone comes barging in unexpectedly, abandoning his search for a shirt that hasn't been the victim of cat claws in his absence to scramble for his sword. Fortunately he realises who the intruder is before he can draw it and drops it again almost immediately.]

Anders?

[Not what he'd been expecting first thing after... getting back. Inasmuch as he'd expected anything, including the getting back. And while he's happy to see the other man and to know that he's unharmed there's a very important question Alistair has to ask.]

Why are you- Haven't you heard of knocking?

[He might have said Anders was always welcome to visit but he could still knock before barging in. What if Alistair had been completely naked instead of just half? Or been in the middle of something private?

On the bright side, he's got his distraction now.]

_{[What kind of question is that? The grin he'd been wearing from ear to ear turns into an incredulous knot between his brows, which does little to detract from the happy relief still written on his face.]}

Knocking? I thought you were dead! What's the point of knocking on a dead man's door?

_{[Who was he supposed to be standing on ceremony for, Alistair's cat?]}

I exhausted every other place looking for you, so I've been checking here. And now here you are! And not dead!

_{[Yay, three cheers for not being zombie food!]}

[Wow Anders have you ever heard of tact? And this is from him.]

You- I- Yes, here I am, alright? Not dead.

[Alistair winces. That came out harsher than he'd intended. Honestly he's pleased that Anders was concerned enough to look for him and keep looking for him and he's not unhappy to see the other man. Just a little surprised by the visit and still feeling... off-balance.

Clearing his throat he forces a smile that's less strained than it could be thanks to how honestly pleased Anders had seemed to see him again.]

Sorry. Thanks. I mean, I'm glad to see you're OK. And to see I'm OK. And I appreciate you, ah, looking. [He pauses, smile becoming slightly more genuine.] Just next time let me finish getting dressed first. Or I might start screaming.

[Next time Anders decides to burst in on him. Because he's not planning for their to be any other kind of next time.]

_{[There were probably better ways to handle the aftermath of the event than playing luck of the draw and waiting to see if Alistair returned on his own, only to catch him off guard like this, but it's worth it to know his worst fears are unfounded. Alistair can hold him accountable for bad manners later.]}

Which is a good thing! The "not dead" part, that is.

_{[If he notices Alistair's edgy surprise, Anders chooses not to acknowledge it. He'd come to suspect Alistair's luck had turned foul after they'd parted ways mid-way through the event, something Alistair's not saying with words so much as his withdrawn demeanor.

For propriety's sake, he turns away so that Alistair can resume dressing without eyes following his every move, continuing to speak.]}

I'm sorry to drop in unannounced--your cat wasn't in a position to lodge much of a complaint against trespassing mages. It's a bit strange to be the one barging into private quarters and not the other way around. _{[So this is what it's like to be a templar, hm?]} I'm fine, thank you, very fine. I waited the worst out in a few spare rooms, and came back to this floor once I was sure the spores had cleared. What happened to you? You weren't anywhere I could find once the dust settled.

[He takes Anders turned back as the invitation it is and returns to for digging about for a clean, intact shirt. And eventually gives up and goes over to the closet to see if it's working again and will give him a new one. Which, yes, it is and it does so that solves one problem.

As he pursues his quest for the elusive shirt he listens to Anders talk, smiling faintly at what he hears.]

I'll teach him to do better in case you get any ideas. [He has to wonder though, didn't templars ever walk in on mages changing or bathing or something? Wouldn't that have been awkward? ...Probably not for Anders. He'd more likely send the templar running away, face as red as his skirt.

It's a preferable thought to the one that comes to mind when Anders asks him about his own fate. The faces of those creatures and the... pain and loss of control - loss of himself - that had come as time passed. Stilling he stares at the floor, swallowing against the sudden churning in his stomach.]

Ah- Me? I was just.... just stuck. Somewhere. In one of the spare rooms. I got stuck and. It took me a while. To get unstuck. Ha. Stupid, right?

[That was convincing, sure. Rather than see Anders reaction to the story Alistair walks over to where Purrlock is washing himself on his bed, getting a few rough licks for his trouble when he pets the cat.]

I would never take the opportunity to snoop through your personal belongings while you weren't around...

_{[If Alistair's listening closely, Anders' tone doesn't quite seem to match his words. But that's nothing to be concerned about, right?

Too soon what small spark of levity there is at their reunion is overshadowed by the grim reminder that people don't just disappear for no reason. Anders doesn't think Alistair would have abandoned his room and his things (cat included) with no word of warning. Which makes the thin cover story a euphemism for something neither of them wants to contemplate.]}

You were stuck? _{[Because Alistair has to admit, the idea's as ridiculous as it sounds.]} Well, I'm glad you got... unstuck.

Uh huh.

[So later he'll have to dig through his things to see if there's anything missing or, more likely, anything embarrassing (like a certain book he still has stashed away along with a few others) that Anders might have found. Well, that will keep him busy anyway. And distracted, which he won't complain about.]

Yes? [Ridiculous as it is, so long as Anders isn't directly questioning it he's sticking to the story. Why he doesn't know, as it's plain from the way his voice grows quiet that it's not true.] ...Me too. I was afraid that I... wouldn't get back. [Turning back to face Anders he forces a smile and shrugs.] But here I am.

[As bizarre as that feels. He should just be grateful he is and the stories are true.]

_{[Anders turns around to meet him once the other man is dressed and Alistair's sensibilities are no longer under threat. Alistair can rest assured, he'll save the ogling for someone single and interested.

Normally he'd save honesty hour for someone else, too, but these are unique circumstances and Alistair's not lucky enough to get off that easily.]}

And that's all? Should I expect the full story at a later date?

_{[He won't pry if Alistair really doesn't want to get into it, but he cares enough not to let it go.]}

[Well that's- That's not fair. If Anders is going to just out and ask him.... Despite his avoidance, part of him wants to talk about it. Like he hadn't been able to talk about Duncan's death and maybe it will help a little to say it and Anders is asking. And he's his friend. He'd want Anders to tell him if their situations were reversed.

Shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot, Alistair chews on his bottom lip and finally admits-] I... I got sick. From that stuff that made the things that attacked us. [A stupid mistake in hindsight. He'd been warned of the danger but he hadn't seen anything in the air and trying to keep his face covered while fighting just had been too difficult. Stupid.] I didn't realise until it was too late. And then I guess I... died.

[It sounds surreal to say it. Not a brush with death like at Ostagar but the actual thing. And then Wonderland's magic just... made it go away.]

_{[It's blatant hypocrisy at work, knowing that if their roles were reserved, chances are he'd rather contort himself into all sorts of uncomfortable positions to avoid talking about what needed talking about. Wonderland reminds him too much of the Circle where things need to be kept hidden, buried. All tragedies in the Circle had been silent ones, mimed out but never given full life beyond a shallow sketch of grief.

But the offer's there. Alistair choosing to take him up on it only confirms what a part of Anders had been hoping against hope wasn't true, and the unavoidable reality of it settles heavily on his features.]}

I leave you alone for a night and you go and catch the only thing worse than the taint, I swear...

_{[It's probably not funny, huh? Now that the truth is out, it seems more real now, more vital and solid, and concern twists the corner of his mouth.

What do you say to that? "Welcome back, how was dying? Did you enjoy the trip?"]}

I kept thinking of reasons why you might be missing, and none of them were good, but that... I don't know what to say to that, which doesn't happen often. I feel like I should have been there.

[It's a little funny. Or Alistair laughs anyway, even if it's not exactly steady. Now that he has said it out loud it's harder to ignore. Like if he didn't admit it he could pretend he really had just gotten himself trapped somewhere and only just gotten free. But now that someone else knows it's undeniable fact and he can't escape it.]

It's not your fault. [Even if Anders had been there he's not sure it would have made a difference. Or it could have made things worse and they both might have wound up like that. So better that he'd been alone in the end, no matter how that had felt.]

You don't have to say anything. [Any other circumstances and he'd count throwing the other man for a loop as an accomplishment. As it is, he'd rather not have managed that but here they are. If it's any comfort to Anders no one else is going to hear about his inability to find something to say about the situation.] But I wouldn't say no if that hug was still on offer.

[Alistair smiles, trying to pass it off as a joke. Which it half is. The other half is just going to have to be disappointed because he's pretty sure Wardens don't go around hugging each other when something bad happens else they'd never stop.]

No, it's this place's fault. But I'm still sorry I wasn't there in time to help. We're Wardens, we're supposed to have each other's backs and save the big dramatic swan song for the Calling.

_{[Looking at Alistair now, it's difficult to imagine him succumbing to the zombie sickness the same way people succumb to the taint. He looks perfectly untouched and healthy--easy to be fooled into thinking he's fine when that couldn't be farther from the truth.

Anders can understand too well the appeal of clinging to humor. To feel yourself slipping away and come back from that? That'd be a memory Anders would be happy letting Wonderland gobble up.]}

You're in my top ten, remember? You can have as many as you want. Only the best for my favorite people. _{[He even goes so far as to lift his arms briefly as if about to go in for a hug.]} But really, whatever you need. I'm at your disposal. I can't even begin to imagine what ghoulification must be like--that's not something anyone should have to find out firsthand.

I thought I'd get some practice.

[For his Calling, yes. Because he needed practice for that. It wasn't like it was pretty straightforward or anything. And now he's thinking about it, what it will be like when the taint finally claims him and-]

Are you sure you won't need to drink after?

[Because he does remember how the topic of hugs came up the first time. Anders did say he could though. And then brought up the topic of ghouls. Alistair has seen more than enough of those and people still just succumbing to the corruption and while he'd thought about what that would be like before he'd never really known. Still doesn't but-

Stepping over to Anders he grabs the other man, intending to go in for a bone-crushing, lift-the-mage-off-his-feet hug that they'll both laugh about after - or he'll laugh and Anders might complain about. And that's how it starts sure, arms tight around the mage, about to heave him up off his feet. And then his grip slackens and Alistair stands there a too-long moment before letting go and pulling back with a self-conscious cough.]

That... worked better in my head. Did you want that drink now? [Maybe it's not such a bad idea.]

I can think of better reasons for a trial run.

_{[Anders has had more than enough of big, burly men lifting him off the ground and squeezing him until he feels like the human equivalent of ointment being pushed out of a tube, but the offer had been honestly meant. When there's a genuine need, it's in his nature to set personal discomforts aside, not out in front. If Alistair actually wants to make him human ointment...

Well, the move toward him is unexpected, but Anders doesn't protest. He sure wasn't kidding.

Arms tighten on him and he half-thinks Alistair is about to have him relive his experience with The Refugee. He doesn't see a career as a bear hug recipient in his future, but he can live with it for Alistair's sake. A joke and a laugh is better than a mental breakdown or whatever the normal reaction is supposed to be when you spit in nature's eye and come back from the dead.

But Alistair doesn't follow through.

He stops like that, arms around him, and Anders senses the moment he takes him up on his offer in a very real way. That's his cue. An arm slips out from under the loop of Alistair's and pats him on the back, coming to rest there, palm flat. Let the actual hug commence. No words necessary.]}

I think it worked fine. _{[As in he's not complaining or, most importantly, judging. Anders' tone is casual as can be when Alistair finally extricates himself.]} After putting up with basement-dwelling fungus monsters, several drinks sound like a good place to start. To the bar or stay here?

[Alright, so maybe that hadn't turned out so badly. Anders isn't laughing at him even as Alistair flushes bright red and studies his feet like they contain a way home with memories intact and a blessing from the Maker Himself. So he hasn't completely ruined his not-at-all made-up reputation as a big, manly warrior. And he does feel a tiny bit better. It doesn't change what happened but it is a welcome reminder that there are people who care about him and are willing to offer comfort, no matter how awkward.

Raising his head just enough to direct a smile at Anders he nods. Drinks it is. Post-hug drinks. It might become a tradition if they keep it up.]

Let's go to the bar. [There's other people there and as unsettled and sick and everything else he feels when his thoughts stray in the wrong direction, company is good. Alistair has always hated being alone, even in the Chantry where most of the other recruits saw him as an annoyance at best their company had been better than being on his own. Yes, Anders will still be here if they stay put but the distraction of a roomful of people would be good too. Unless he does something really embarrassing. And he's pretty sure he's done there for the day.]

Just give me a minute. [Though he really doesn't need to check Purrlock's food and water courtesy of his volunteer sitter he does anyway. With a quick scratch under the chin - the leads to a longer tussle and his fingers getting chewed on - he farewells the cat and turns back to Anders.] Now I'm ready.

The bar it is. Taking your mind off of it might help... find some distance.

_{[Anders says nothing of the hug or the blush that accompanies it. Some things are worth teasing people over, but not this. This is too meaningful a thing to undercut with mockery, however good-humored. Who cares if they're men, or warriors, or Wardens? They're human, too.

Life's lonely enough as it is without denying themselves comfort, giving or receiving or anything in between.

And Alistair--Alistair doesn't deserve what Wonderland's done to him. With head bowed, he looks younger than he ever has, and it makes Anders think he deserves... better. Far better when so much responsibility is already resting on those slumped shoulders. Comfort and empathy is the least he's owed.

He waits at the door until Alistair is done saying goodbye to Purrlock, head tilting to take in his expression.]}

All right?

_{[Are you all right?]}

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Semi-Closed] Isn't it a little early for a mid-life crisis?

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22nd | apologies for the slow!

np I have been super slow too

slow tagging buddies, holla

slo-mo fist-bump

it'll look as dramatic as the fight scenes in 300

only if the costumes are the same

that can be arranged

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