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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.]

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"Ow!"

Why do people make pained exclamations when they're not actually hurt? When something splatters against his back and the first thing he does is squeak like it's a fireball raining hot embers on his neck, and not a snowball sprinkling him in wet droplets, Anders wonders at this trick of the brain. A powerful, resourceful mage, and this is what he's been reduced to. Maker help him.

He spins around in search of the culprit. As one such resident out walking the grounds in plain sight, he's a prime target for mischief-makers. "All right, who threw that?"

As Anders looks around a bush starts snickering loudly in his vicinity. And there, poking out from behind the highly-amused shrubbery, can be seen the tip of a boot.

Stealth is really not Alistair's strong suit.

Once he actually manages to get himself under control he pops up from behind his completely undiscoverable and not at all obvious hiding place again. Flinging another snowball at the mage with a yell he ducks back down quickly, counting on the scant protection of the snow-covered plant to shield him from Anders eventual wrath.

He sounds far too pleased with himself as he calls out, "Come on! Grey Wardens shouldn't be caught off-guard so easily!"

"An ambush, is it? Come out and face me!" he taunts good-naturedly. "Who is that? I should know who I'm about to exact my revenge on."

He can rule out spirit-possessed sylvan. That bush has feet and a hint of fair hair peeking between bare winter branches. When his attacker pops up with another snowball in hand, he finally gets a clear view of them.

"Is that--Alistair?" The King of Ferelden? The same King of Ferelden currently throwing snow at him like a boy at play?

But then he's too busy ducking the snowball whizzing at his head to give it much thought. He puts his foot wrong on the snow track and nearly skids, recovering with a stumble. Andraste, grant me grace. Or keep anyone from seeing me fall. "What, are you calling this some kind of training exercise?" he says on a laugh.

( speaking of people that can totally read, thanks, Hook has also found himself in the library on more than one occasion lately. he hasn't been sleeping particularly well, and well, the longer that goes on the more often he's in search of something to occupy his time. wandering around not really going much of anywhere gets dull after awhile, but at least reading seems to distract him for an hour or two.

he doesn't particularly care there's someone else in the library and probably wouldn't even talk to the stranger if it were not for the whisper to no one in particular. Killian is hooking a book out to inspect with his namesake as he glances over, eyebrow quirking as he takes in the blonde blushing over his book. )

You're about as red as a whore in church.

( yes, that's the most refined way he possibly could have said that, obviously. )

[As soon as he speaks Alistair yelps like a dog with his tail caught and slams the book shut, shoving it behind him on the chair and sitting bolt upright. Turning a glare on the man he ~~whines~~ snaps-] Don't you know it's rude to sneak up on people?

[Because that was definitely what he'd done. Rudely snuck up whilst Alistair was distracted. On purpose.]

And I'm not red! Why would I be- I'm not!

[A very convincing argument when he can feel the heat in his face and knows he really must be as red as... what this guy just said. As red as a very red thing.]

And this isn't a church! I'm not doing anything wrong!

[Yes, that doesn't sound like he's guilty at all... But he's not. Guilty. He's not. He was just caught by surprise, that's all.]

( gods above, this one is something else, isn't he? Killian can do little more than stare with a distinctly amused expression as Alistair stows his perfectly innocent novel where it can not be seen and clearly no longer exists. something about the man reminds him a bit of himself, ages ago, when he'd had horrible hair and a cruel tendency to throw perfectly good rum into the ocean.

he's far from the demure leftenant he used to be, though, which means he's going to take every opportunity to make this as uncomfortable for the other, apparently easily flustered, man. )

Yes, everything about you reads perfect innocence and easy nonchalance, mate. ( Hook takes his selection off the shelf before adding, ) You know most read tawdry articles in the privacy of their bunk. Keep your hands where I can see them, now.

"You were expecting someone else?" Maybe, given how long they've known each other. And given Anders is one of the people who expects a king instead of, well, him.

Too bad. He wants to have some fun and his reputation doesn't matter here. He can throw snowballs at people if that's what he wants to do. And he will, taking full advantage of Anders' stumble to leap out from behind his bush and fling a couple more missiles the mage's way.

He is so going to end up regretting this. But until then!

"Yes, training! For surprise darkspawn attacks!" They can go with that. If it helps. It does sound better than 'Alistair are you being an idiot again?' "You've already fallen prey to my ambush, now try and escape my wrath!"

...'Alistair is being an idiot again' is probably the better explanation though.

[He's going to catch fire. He's just going to burst into flames from sheer embarrassment and that will be the end of him, he knows it. Failing that he'll choke on his own tongue as he splutters helplessly, waving his hands in front of him and shaking his head in desperate denial.]

It's not like that! It's not anything- I wouldn't-

[Alistair cuts himself off with a groan as he realises he's just digging himself deeper.

His hands are both where they can be seen at least, as requested.... Maker, this guy didn't really think he would- In public? Just because he was reading. Reading a perfectly ordinary book. No one would do something like that, even if they were... Looking at other things. That's just wrong.

Finally remembering how to manage a whole sentence again, he points accusingly at the stranger.]

Just why are you sneaking around here anyway?

[Never mind that it's a public space where anyone can go. Sneaking.]

Anyone else, as a matter of fact.

Okay, maybe not anyone. If Alistair's jest came to pass and Andraste graced Wonderland with her divine presence to throw snowballs at him from behind a bush, he'd be a little weirded out. Anyone aside from Andraste, though.

A lengthy history of dodging projectiles that could kill him, up to and including arrows and fireballs from enemy mages, makes great practice for dodging snowballs. Anders starts to run for the corner mansion where Alistair will lose track of him, scooping up snow as he goes. Revenge is best served wet and cold. (And icy hard with magic if he really dislikes the person, but he doesn't want to throw a chunk of ice and crack Alistair's head open.)

"I don't like surprises! Or wrath! What did I do to deserve this?" he gripes, lobbing a snowball in Alistair's direction. One thing apostates are good at: fleeing the scene. "Catch me if you can!"

The first person to come around the corner after him is getting a face full of snow.

Interesting reading?

[ Robyn doesn't visit the library as often as she should, spending more time outside than in the mansion, but she'd stopped by today to return a book that Oren had squirreled away during their last visit. Being friends with Dorian helps to foster a renewed love for reading, but it also poses more dangers for the books, who are vulnerable to the slobbery jaws of her four-legged companion.

Today, Robyn had thought it best not to bring along the mabari to the brief trip into the mansion's library. Alone, she'd found the place that the tome belonged, after wiping it down thoroughly and mentally debating for longer than she should have about whether or not it should actually be returned to book society, after what it'd been through. Finally, she decided that it could be salvaged with some careful cleaning, and had found its place on the shelves. Only after did she pick up on the quiet mumbling of someone nearby and turned, lip quirking at an affectionate, amused smile at the way he seems to hunch down in his chair as if trying to make himself smaller. ]

Was I sneaking? I didn't realize.

( you know, because he wasn't doing anything particularly stealthfully or trying to hide his presence in any way. he'd never bothered to try and sneak around a library before, why would he start now?

it was clear that this was not a fellow for jokes and though Hook was the sort to drag it within an inch of his life to make the poor sod as uncomfortable as possible, he was probably better off trying to make good impressions in this place. )

I don't care what you read, mate. Go back to what you were after, don't let me distract you. You did seem so riveted.

( okay so maybe he's not so great at being friendly, because that riveted was definitely given an unnecessary inflection. )

Who's to say Andraste didn't have a sense of humour and like to have fun? Anything's possible. The Maker couldn't have fallen in love with someone boring.... But it would be pretty weird yeah. And totally worth it to be able to tell the Chantry the truth about the Bride.

"Training exercise!" Alistair sing-songs in reply. It's his new answer and he's sticking to it now. The practice could be really useful one day. For something. Ambushes. People throwing things. Darkspawn with rocks.

Not that Anders especially seems to need the practice, what with how easily he evades Alistair's attack and makes a run for it. He definitely was telling the truth about all that practice at escaping, not that that's going to help him now. He has a mighty Grey Warden on his tail and there's no getting out of this battle!

Narrowly avoiding Anders hastily tossed snowball, Alistair lets out a wordless battle-cry and barrels after the mage. Skidding around the corner of the building he's greeted by... a face full of snow. With a yelp he stumbles backwards, clawing at his eyes desperately so he can clear them before Anders presses his advantage.

[Even someone moving about, cleaning a bedraggled book and returning it to its family right near him goes completely unnoticed as his nose remains buried in the pages in front of him. It's only when she speaks that Alistair even realises there's someone else about, let alone that they're close enough to hear him muttering to himself.

He lets out a ~~embarrassingly girlish~~ shriek at the sound of her voice, slamming the book shut and leaping to his feet. And promptly trips over the nearby footstool, sending the book flying as he staggers forward, almost crashing into the Warden.

Getting his balance back he pulls himself up straight and stares down at Robyn, wide-eyed and red-faced.] Ah-

Ha.

Hi... Fancy seeing you here.

[Nothing happened. He's been standing here the whole time. Nothing happened.]

...Looking for something to read?

Yes, you were. Sneaking up on people. Like a... a sneak!

[And it wasn't just that he hadn't been paying attention. Not at all. Shut up.

Alistair scowls at the other man, clearly aggrieved by the dig, for all that it's subtle enough he can't really outright accuse the stranger of making fun of him.]

Well good. I don't care if you care or not anyway! And I wasn't that interested. Just passing the time. Nothing better to do here.

[That's telling him. In a very mature and adult way. Still pointing he waves his finger reprovingly at the other man.]

If you didn't want to be distracting why did you even say anything? You could have just minded your own business like a normal person.

[Even if Alistair himself is usually the one to stick his nose into other people's business. It's different this time.]

[ Well then.

Robyn reacts automatically and with the quick wits of a rogue, reaching out to brace him if he crashes into her so that they don't both go tumbling down. Luckily, he manages to catch himself and so she lowers her arms, not quite laughing, but grinning fondly, despite its... strangeness. ]

Yes, well, we do love in the same magical mansion. [ What are you up to? Briefly, she wonders if this is about her gift, if, despite the note he'd left, he'd been put out by it... but, that seems a little far-fetched even for paranoia. The way he'd responded in seeing her didn't match discomfort. It was more downright alarm, really. ]

I was returning a book, actually. Oren likes to run off with them whenever I come in here. [ Her eyes fall on the book that lies between them and she squats for a moment, arms wrapped around her knees in a hug as she reads the cover. ]

Swords and Shields... [ She muses, though the title doesn't ring a bell and the picture isn't explanatory, either. Luckily, perhaps, for Alistair, she's distracted by the name of the author and reaches out for it, eyes widening a bit in recognition. ]

-Oh! "Varric Tethras!" Dorian mentioned his name... I think he's a member of the Inquisition and, supposedly, tells very good stories. [ Straightening, book in hand, she looks over to the other Warden. ] Do you like it?

Worry not, I'll acquire a bell.

( that is definitely sarcasm, but Alistair is not the first to complain he's been skulking around. Hook doesn't suppose he's walking around any differently than he usually does, but apparently he's been slinking around in shadows more often than not.

Hook doesn't have any argument that there's nothing else better to do. clearly. since he's here to read, too. the finger waggling doesn't seem to impress him much, though, maybe because it makes Alistair seem to be a disapproving grandmother. )

How was I meant to know you weren't speaking to me?

( he says it with perfect innocence, even though it was very obvious the hushed whisper wasn't meant to be shared. oh, well; it had been. )

Training, his ass. More like hazing. Alistair shows no signs of letting up as he charges after him, and Anders finds himself halfway to regretting baiting him until Ferelden's newly appointed king steps right into his counter-attack and staggers, flailing.

Before he knows it, he's laughing. "I'll remember this day as long as I live!" Alistair looks ridiculous.

Calling up his magic, he coats the ground between the in a light glossing of slick ice. One wrong step on Alistair's part and Anders will have officially felled a king. Does that come with some kind of prize, or just a life-sentence for attempted assassination?

Edited 2016-02-19 02:45 (UTC)

Right, we do, don't we?

[And it's even bigger than their camp or the Arl's estate and yet he still manages to get caught doing something embarrassing by someone he knows. It's official, the Maker enjoys laughing at him.

Swallowing nervously his eyes follow the book as she picks it up. Is it too late to make a run for it? ...Probably. Alistair twitches at her exclamation, heart plummeting as she seems to recognise the book. What if she thinks he's some kind of creep because he-

Wait, she only recognises the writer? ...Who supposedly tells good stories? And is with the Inquisition?]

Did he? [Either Dorian has terrible, terrible taste in books - yes, he was reading it but it's not what Alistair would show to other people and tell them is a good story - or he was joking at the expense of a friend. Robyn or this Varric Tethras, he can't say.] I mean, yes! That's why I- Why I picked it up. I thought I knew the name and wanted to have a look.

[That's a good explanation, right? She shouldn't find that hard to believe. Now he just hopes she won't want to see for herself what sort of stories Dorian considers good.]

Do I- Ah. Well, I mean... Yes? That is, it's alright. Not what I'd normally- If I read much, which I don't normally. I don't normally have the time for it. Not that I have a problem with reading it's just usually there's so much else to do and- It's alright?

[Please, please don't ask anything else. Please.]

Put it around your neck when you do. Nice and tight. [A pause, then-] I'll help.

[Is he overreacting and letting himself get riled up over nothing? Probably, yes. But he's annoyed now and the other man is just coming off as annoyingly smug so he's hardly going to just let it go.

Even if that might be the wiser course of action as Alistair scowls and steps up his finger waving to waving his arms about in exaggerated frustration. Taking him from disapproving grandmother to somewhere between crazy person and idiot. Back to normal in other words.]

How could you think I was talking to you? I wasn't even looking at you or talking loud enough for anyone who's not an eavesdropping sneak to hear! You just wanted to annoy someone and decided I'd do, admit it!

"Just you wait, I'll-"

One wrong step turns into a skid turns into Alistair's feet flying out from under him and sending him tumbling to the ground.

He hits hard and rolls, letting himself go limp as he comes to a stop. Sprawled out motionless in the snow he holds his breath hopefully and listens for the mage's reaction. Luckily he twisted as he fell so he's facing away from Anders - playing possum doesn't work if the other person can see you trying not to laugh.

Assuming Anders will fall for it and not just decide to bury him in the snow and leave him to dig himself out.

...He can't be that upset about the snowball, can he?

Mm. A friend of Hawke's, a skillful player of Wicked Graces, and a good author.

[ She happens to think that Dorain's tastes are good, save for his opinion of dogs, but what he'd been referring to is Varric's general storytelling ability, not indicating that every tale of his is... appropriate for daily conversation. As she may soon find out. ]

No, the Blight isn't a very good time for catching up on the latest best-sellers, apparently. [ Robyn smiles sideways at him, trying to make heads or tails of his reaction and coming up short. ] But, here... well, as you said, we have a lot more time.

[ He doesn't seem to give it a glowing recommendation, though, and so she offers it up again without opening it. Fortunately (for Alistair), Oren not being present means there's much less of a chance of the novel being snatched away and revealed for what it is. ]

Well, I won't keep you. [ She says brightly, having finished her own task in the room. ] Not when you seem to be so absorbed in your reading.

[ And he had, really, even though he'd deigned it to be just "alright." Quietly, she notes the redness in his face, decides that, if she thinks of it, she'll ask Dorian or Brennan more about Varric and his books. ]

Something he'd thought he'd never see: Alistair lose his balance thanks to his juvenile ice trick and crash to the ground like a pile of bricks. The spell couldn't have been timed any better, and Anders chortles all the more because of it. He should be allowed a second to gloat after a display like that. Half a second at the very least.

"This is why you should think twice before launching a sneak attack on a mage," he teases.

But Alistair doesn't leap up and retaliate like Anders is expecting. Lying prone where he'd fallen, his would-be attacker doesn't so much as move. Humor melts into quizzicalness.

"I sincerely hope you're faking or the type to spontaneously fall asleep and not dead, he says cautiously, moving away from the wall to stand by Alistair's feet. "This isn't how either one of us wants to find out if it's true we get do-overs like cats with nine lives."

( yes, for your information Alistair, you are overreacting. Hook doesn't seem particularly amused by the idea of lynching, but to be fair, pirates never are.

and maybe, just maybe, he's easier to annoy these days. (definitely easier, actually.)

he's fought people for lesser things than shouting and wagging fingers in his face, that's for sure. he knows better than to break to his temper but gods above is it tempting. )

You've found me out, mate, that was my dastardly plan indeed. And by that mark you're only playing into my hand, aren't you?

( so go back to whispering about your book and he'll keep to his and that could be the end of it. )

Hawke... He's the one who- With the same 'problem' you have, right?

[Isabela had mentioned the same thing, about people expecting this Hawke to be a woman. He hadn't realised Hawke had anything to do with the Inquisition though. It seems like almost everyone who's not a Warden is with them. It's weird.

And he's kind of curious what else Dorian would consider a good book now but maybe he can try and find out later. Somehow.]

It's not good for doing much of anything besides seeing every inch of Ferelden and killing darkspawn. Which was why I thought I'd have a look. At the library.

[With a palpable sense of relief he reclaims the book and tucks it behind his back. Immediately he relaxes, some of the redness fading from his cheeks and his smile becoming distinctly less strained.]

You don't have to go! I can read any time. And in my room if I don't want to be disturbed.

[Which, come to think of it, might have been the smarter move to start with. But he hadn't really planned on hanging around the library, nose in a book of any kind. He'd just been looking for some way to pass the time and gotten distracted. Now that there's someone he can talk to reading can wait.]

Or will your hound come racing to rescue you if you don't get back soon?

[He's not going to discount the possibility. Mabari are protective of their chosen masters.]

[And to be fair, he's not actually going to try hanging someone for annoying him. He was thinking a collar with a bell on it more than anything... Except that would a actually be kind of weird. Maybe better they pretend he meant the other thing.

And that is... also annoying. Mostly on account of it being true. He is letting himself be annoyed and, presumably, giving the other man exactly what he wanted. Which means the smart thing to do would be to drop the whole thing and leave.]

Ugh. Fine.

[He pulls the book out from behind him again and gets to his feet. Glaring, Alistair glances down at the book in the other man's hands... hand.]

It's not like your taste seems much better.

[Petty, given he has no idea what the story in question is about but who's honestly surprised at this point?]

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*live. yeesus.

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it's a mansion full of love

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