Alistair (Theirin) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fatherlesskind) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-02-12 08:05 pm
fatherlesskind) wrote in entrancelogs2016-02-12 08:05 pm
You want me to what? BE QUIET? | Open
Who: Alistair (fatherlesskind) and YOU
Where: All around Wonderland
When: February 12th
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Summary: Without so much as a pillow fight to be seen, Alistair has to amuse himself somehow. In a very regal, solemn manner, naturally.
The Story:
A - The woods
From somewhere within the woods this morning comes the unmistakable rattle and crash of metal and wood meeting with force, punctuated by the occasional wordless shout of exertion.
Should anyone go looking for the source, the sounds will lead them to a decent sized clearing among the trees. There, a towering figure in full medieval plate armour batters away with sword and shield at a training dummy, heedless of how much noise he's making or if there's anyone else around to be bothered by it. Both shield and breastplate bear a heraldic griffon, the symbol of the Grey Wardens for those who might recognise it, and those who don't might well remember the large, cheerful man often seen wandering around Wonderland with a similar sword at his hip.
He's so intent on vanquishing his imaginary foe that should anyone approach him his first response will be to turn on them, weapons raised in anticipation of an attack. He lowers both a moment later with a chagrined look. "Sorry. I was- Sorry."
B - The grounds
There's still snow outside.
There's snow outside and, for the moment, no trouble or monsters or anything. No pressing need to be somewhere else or to avoid notice or to maintain appearances or anything.
So later in the day Alistair can be seen disappearing outside to find himself a secluded corner somewhere.
An hour or so later the assault begins. Anyone walking the grounds outside the mansion may find themselves under attack. A snowball to the face or back accompanied by a gleeful shout from the one responsible. He's far from stealthy, dressed in dark colours that stand out against the backdrop of white and feet crunching through the snow as he attempts to sneak up on his victims with an armful of missiles. But he has a good arm and those snowballs can travel a long way. Stand and fight or make a run for it, either way he's not about to let up.
C - The library
[In an unusual turn-up, Alistair is in the library. Reading a book. (Yes, shut up, he knows how to read. And no, the tiny letters don't strain him, thank you.)
He's curled up in a chair, sword on the ground beside him, utterly engrossed in the book he'd found whilst poking around. The cover depicts a red-haired woman in armour, surrounded by foes and wielding a sword and shield. Rather appropriately as the book itself is titled 'Swords & Shields' by one Varric Tethras.
As he reads a bright red flush crawls up his cheeks and he hunches further and further over the open book as if trying to hide it from view. He's so caught up in it he doesn't even notice if there's anyone else in the library.
Turning a page he pauses, eyes going wide.]
Oh. Wow.
D - Other
[Choose your own prompt. Alistair can be found anywhere around Wonderland poking his nose into things and talking a lot.]
[OOC: Prose or brackets, take your pick and I'll match.]
fatherlesskind) and YOUWhere: All around Wonderland
When: February 12th
Rating: PG-13 to be safe
Summary: Without so much as a pillow fight to be seen, Alistair has to amuse himself somehow. In a very regal, solemn manner, naturally.
The Story:
A - The woods
From somewhere within the woods this morning comes the unmistakable rattle and crash of metal and wood meeting with force, punctuated by the occasional wordless shout of exertion.
Should anyone go looking for the source, the sounds will lead them to a decent sized clearing among the trees. There, a towering figure in full medieval plate armour batters away with sword and shield at a training dummy, heedless of how much noise he's making or if there's anyone else around to be bothered by it. Both shield and breastplate bear a heraldic griffon, the symbol of the Grey Wardens for those who might recognise it, and those who don't might well remember the large, cheerful man often seen wandering around Wonderland with a similar sword at his hip.
He's so intent on vanquishing his imaginary foe that should anyone approach him his first response will be to turn on them, weapons raised in anticipation of an attack. He lowers both a moment later with a chagrined look. "Sorry. I was- Sorry."
B - The grounds
There's still snow outside.
There's snow outside and, for the moment, no trouble or monsters or anything. No pressing need to be somewhere else or to avoid notice or to maintain appearances or anything.
So later in the day Alistair can be seen disappearing outside to find himself a secluded corner somewhere.
An hour or so later the assault begins. Anyone walking the grounds outside the mansion may find themselves under attack. A snowball to the face or back accompanied by a gleeful shout from the one responsible. He's far from stealthy, dressed in dark colours that stand out against the backdrop of white and feet crunching through the snow as he attempts to sneak up on his victims with an armful of missiles. But he has a good arm and those snowballs can travel a long way. Stand and fight or make a run for it, either way he's not about to let up.
C - The library
[In an unusual turn-up, Alistair is in the library. Reading a book. (Yes, shut up, he knows how to read. And no, the tiny letters don't strain him, thank you.)
He's curled up in a chair, sword on the ground beside him, utterly engrossed in the book he'd found whilst poking around. The cover depicts a red-haired woman in armour, surrounded by foes and wielding a sword and shield. Rather appropriately as the book itself is titled 'Swords & Shields' by one Varric Tethras.
As he reads a bright red flush crawls up his cheeks and he hunches further and further over the open book as if trying to hide it from view. He's so caught up in it he doesn't even notice if there's anyone else in the library.
Turning a page he pauses, eyes going wide.]
Oh. Wow.
D - Other
[Choose your own prompt. Alistair can be found anywhere around Wonderland poking his nose into things and talking a lot.]
[OOC: Prose or brackets, take your pick and I'll match.]
no subject
Anders sprints across the field and out of range of Alistair's wild throw, laughter trailing him. That's twice now he's managed to surprise the king. So long as it doesn't involve having his legs knocked out from under him, he could get used to snowball fights even if he's long past the age for them.
It's to Alistair's credit that he doesn't take offense to threats of smiting; he laughs again, finding it hard to picture Alistair using his abilities unprovoked from what he's seen so far. Stopping long enough to bend and take up a handful of snow, he calls, "I don't need magic and you wouldn't do that to a fellow Warden!"
So he hopes.
no subject
Even if his threats don't warrant anything more than laughter in response. But he's going to take that as an agreement that anything but regular old snowballs is now forbidden. No magic, no Templar-ing. Which is fine by him. Anders only got close to beating him last time because he used magic. Without it he's got no chance!
"Maybe not but I'd do this!" Bouncing back to his feet Alistair winds up for a proper throw this time and sends a snowball arcing towards where Anders stands.
He's betting he can throw way further than the mage. If he keeps his distance he might be able to pelt Anders relatively safely. At least until he gets bored and charges him again. So maybe a couple of minutes.
no subject
Anders lurches to the side to dodge the snowball Alistair sends streaking toward him; it glances off his shoulder and breaks apart, wet clumps sticking to his shoulder guard. "Child's play! Why don't you try this on for size?"
He cocks his arm back and lets fly with his snowball. He's thrown enough fireballs in his day to have a fair throwing arm, if he does say so himself.
no subject
He's balling up another couple of snowballs of his own as he speaks, cradling them against himself so they're ready to deploy. His own hands are rapidly getting colder and more clumsy, the gloves he's wearing only doing so much to protect him, but it's not nearly enough to make him consider surrender.
Peering out from behind his shelter, he searches for Anders, winding up for another throw once he spots the mage.
no subject
With each new snowball he molds into shape, he gets better and faster at the repetitive action--he likes to think he's a quicker learner that way, and there's plenty to learn now that he's free of the Circle's stone walls--but Alistair is faster still. Before he can follow up with another one, Alistair lets fly again.
Nearly forgetting he's holding a snowball in one hand, he puts up his other arm to protect his face, careful not to squish it. This is the one. This is the one that'll show that bush who's boss.
"I'm underwhelmed!" Anders squints, lines up the angles in his head, and pitches a curving ball that should, assuming he'd thrown true, skim along the top of the bush like a stone skipped on water.
no subject
"I'm just getting warmed up!" Listen to them both, being very macho and impressive. And not at all childish. More so than two grown men having a snowball fight warrants anyway.
Anders' throw flies true and the snowball passes over Alistair's shelter to smack into his hair and send snow sliding down his back once more. It's no less unpleasant the second time around and he curses and squirms about, clawing at the cold slush trapped underneath his shirt and melting slowly against his skin. Gritting his teeth he drags his attention back to the fight, bracing himself for another attack after letting himself get distracted.
no subject
Riding high on adrenaline-fuelled hopes of taking back his honor, Anders does the opposite of what any smart mage with his skill set does in a fight: he runs at Alistair instead of away, pressing his momentary advantage by circling around the bushes to get a clear shot. If Alistair isn't careful, he's going to storm his bush castle and reclaim it in the name of mage kind.
"Now what are you going to do, huh?" he jeers, pelting the other Warden with another snowball.
no subject
He lets out a war cry and charges at Anders once more, completely ignoring his previous decision regarding the ground and wrestling. He already has snow down his back and at this point getting more down there if Anders trips him up again isn't going to make him any colder or wetter.
no subject
Alistair charges out of his hiding place like a wild druffalo, and Anders forgets all about trying to draw him out in his haste to reverse course.
"We agreed no more manhandling! Cheating! Cheating!"
The king is no overweight ruler with soft hands, glued to his throne cushions. Had Alistair had been a templar, he'd be the one Anders worried about out outpacing.
But he's no out-of-shape apprentice being chased around for the first time, either. Snatching glances over his shoulders to mark Alistair's whereabouts, Anders runs for the gardens, pumping his legs as harder to keep his lead. A raised stone flower box stands in the way. Timing the jump, he leaps onto its edge, hanging a sharp left to race along its circumference.
"Keep up with me if you think you can!" he calls out tauntingly. If he can pin Anders down, he'll do what it normally takes a squad templars to accomplish.
no subject
He barrels after Anders, dropping the handful of snow in favour of giving chase. Not trusting himself to be nimble enough to balance on the edge of the flower box while running, Alistair narrowly avoids colliding with the thing as he throws himself around it to follow the mage.
Alistair has one advantage over the templars that have chased Anders in the past - he's not weighed down by armour and weapons. But he has practice running with both - part of templar training. Or it was for him every time he said something one of his trainers disapproved of. So without them he's surprisingly quick for his size. Whether he's quick enough remains to be seen but all he needs is to be able to catch an ankle or the edge of Anders' robe and he can bring the other man down. Once that happens he can't lose.
Ignoring the fact he sort of did before. But this time he'll be ready for Anders' tricks.
no subject
Even in the dead of winter, the garden is a picturesque marvel of landscaping ingenuity, taken from what looks like the grounds of some rich nobleman's estate where five gardeners work year round to trim the grass to just the right height. The garden has probably seen stranger than two men running full tilt through it and Anders doesn't feel too bad about ripping through the empty flower beds, disturbing foliage and stepping on the carcasses of dead flowers. If Wonderland doesn't like it, it can damn well revoke his holiday pass and send him home.
Standing in the center is the fountain and its surrounding knee-high wading pool. Anders leaps down from the one flower bed once he reaches its end and cuts around another, keeping it between them, his zig-zagging taking him closer and closer to the water.
He doesn't let Alistair stray too far--and it's not so hard when Alistair is nipping at his heels like a mabari on the trail of a hare. If Alistair follows him to the fountain's edge and he times a swerve just right, momentum could work in his favor and send his pursuer stumbling into the pool.
no subject
Alistair is utterly focused on his target as he pounds after Anders, gaze fixed on the mage's back as he darts around flower beds and kicks up snow. He's gaining on Anders, sure that victory is near at hand, the pair of them racing towards the centre of the gardens.
And suddenly Anders swerves to the side and Alistair is skidding, trying to turn away from the fountain looming up before him. His own momentum carries him forward, legs hitting the wall at the edge painfully and sending him tumbling through the thin layer of ice and into the water with a splash. Just as quickly as he falls in he scrambles back out with a shout, landing on the ground in damp, pathetic huddle.
"Maker that's cold!" Plucking at his wet clothes he looks around for Anders, pouting miserably in case his opponent is thinking about pressing his advantage. If he looks pathetic enough it might dissuade any further attacks. "I surrender! You win, I give up." This on top of the snow down his back is more than enough for one day.
no subject
"Ha! That was honestly painful to watch." Anders stops by the edge of the fountain. Mouth forming a perfect 'o', he lets out a groan in solidarity as men do when they see another being hit in the unmentionables. This isn't on the same level of special agony as that, but it's on the spectrum.
That said, he's not entirely sorry for doing it. May Alistair learn a valuable lesson about trying to chase him down and toss him into the snow.
"That truce is sounding more and more appealing. I'm still willing to call us even," he says, hiding a smile. Surrender accepted. "I originally came outside for some fresh air and I think I've gotten that and then some. Shall we call it a day and head inside?"
no subject
Alistair nods eagerly at the suggestion. "Inside is good. Inside is very good." Levering himself to his feet he looks down at himself, soaked through with icy water, and shakes his head. "Remind me never to get on your bad side. You're a cruel man when you want to be."
And this was all done to a brother in arms. He'd hate to see what Anders might do to an actual enemy.
Turning and trudging towards the mansion before he starts to freeze solid he glances over at Anders with a grin. "Next time you're helping me gang up on everyone else." He had indeed learned his lesson now. In the future he was keeping Anders on his side.
no subject
Forty percent, maybe, on a bad day. But definitely mostly kind to his friends.
... When they're not irritating him.
"You did chase me to, I assume, knock me on my backside again," he supplies helpfully. Alistair's innocence has some holes you could ride an Amaranthine Charger through.
But to exemplify that he's having a sixty percent sort of day, he waves a hand to create a bubble of warmth that will raise the temperature around them. The snowball fight's officially over--that means the magic ban is lifted. The heat spell's not quite quick enough to dry Alistair out completely, but it's a start.
"You've got yourself a deal. That I'm more than happy to help out with."
no subject
Though Anders' magic trick does nothing to make him regret choosing to target the mage. If he hadn't and had gone after someone else then he be stuck shivering all the way back to the mansion. Instead he shoots Anders a grateful smile, relaxing from his huddled posture as he warms up a little. He's still going right back to his room and getting changed but at least the walk back isn't so bad now.
And, look, he has a promised ally for future battles. Let the rest of Wonderland look out! All in all he's calling this a good day as he steps inside the mansion's front door.