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...yes? I take it you have a different experience there?
It's probably personal.
[ It's definitely personal. ]
Did the Templars ever bother you? I've never heard of a Qunari being put in a Circle.
[ Maybe because they're so rare here, maybe because they're left alone, maybe because they're killed instead. The options are endless. ]
[ It's definitely personal. ]
Did the Templars ever bother you? I've never heard of a Qunari being put in a Circle.
[ Maybe because they're so rare here, maybe because they're left alone, maybe because they're killed instead. The options are endless. ]
Fair enough.
[She'll leave it at that, don't worry.]
No, I was never in a Circle. My status with the Valo-Kas tended to protect me -not many people wanted to mess with a group of armed 'qunari'- as did taking assignments in areas where Templars are scarce or nonexistent. Here...not directly, but that isn't to say I haven't seen harassment or scapegoating. It's been better since the wake, or it was. But the abomination surfacing is just going to give Nerva and those like her more fuel for the fire.
[She'll leave it at that, don't worry.]
No, I was never in a Circle. My status with the Valo-Kas tended to protect me -not many people wanted to mess with a group of armed 'qunari'- as did taking assignments in areas where Templars are scarce or nonexistent. Here...not directly, but that isn't to say I haven't seen harassment or scapegoating. It's been better since the wake, or it was. But the abomination surfacing is just going to give Nerva and those like her more fuel for the fire.
[ Hope Alistair isn't sleeping. Because Beleth isn't. And when she can't sleep, she starts thinking. A dangerous task. ]
Do you ever think about nug feet. They don't have feet. They have little hands. Like people. Why do they have little fingers? Why would a nug need fingers, Alistair.
[ Important stuff here. ]
Do you ever think about nug feet. They don't have feet. They have little hands. Like people. Why do they have little fingers? Why would a nug need fingers, Alistair.
[ Important stuff here. ]
Which is weird to think about -I read Varric's book about what happened in Kirkwall- but I guess that shows there's hope for the rest of them. A faint hope.
[ She's silent as she mulls over this new information. Then she props herself on an elbow to look over at him. ]
I don't have shoes. And I don't write my mother. And I have fingers.
[ Are you saying she doesn't need fingers, Alistair. ]
I don't have shoes. And I don't write my mother. And I have fingers.
[ Are you saying she doesn't need fingers, Alistair. ]
[ Not permanently. Only long enough to experiment with shoe-tying—but Dalish, right, no shoes. Mothers, though, supposedly. He's heard. And he knows that Clan Ashara is full of orphans, but, whatever, he's an orphan, too. He's allowed to take that risk to joke. ]
You don't write you mother? I write mine every week.
[ He doesn't turn or prop up—Zevran is probably here somewhere, hopefully asleep, not in need of unnecessary jostling—but he does twist his head to look back as best he can. ]
You don't write you mother? I write mine every week.
[ He doesn't turn or prop up—Zevran is probably here somewhere, hopefully asleep, not in need of unnecessary jostling—but he does twist his head to look back as best he can. ]
Dalish do not have mothers, Alistair. They grow from little seeds planted in the ground and pop up, fully formed, to harass ignorant and lying humans.
[ Zev rolls over enough to squint at them both. Really. This is what they talk about when they can't sleep.
Really. ]
I was woken from a dream involving triplets, oil, and an obscene amount of leather to hear of nug feet. [ Why. Why is this his life. ]
[ Zev rolls over enough to squint at them both. Really. This is what they talk about when they can't sleep.
Really. ]
I was woken from a dream involving triplets, oil, and an obscene amount of leather to hear of nug feet. [ Why. Why is this his life. ]
[ Unfortunately for Alistair, his current roommate is one of two in Clan Ashara who had a mother, and the only one who really knew her mother. She just has a lot of mommy issues. Whoops. But instead of explaining to Alistair all these conflicting emotions, she just starts with something light. ]
The last time I wrote a letter to my Mother, she sent it back with my spelling and grammar corrected--
[ And then, whoops. Zevran is awake. Beleth leans up a little more to look over at him. ]
I mean, Zevran's absolutely right. Keepers are called Keepers because they're the gardeners who keep us watered and weeded.
...
Triplets and oil sounds so messy. Like, were there towels involved in your dreams, too? Leather can't soak up a lot of oil. And it sounds like there would be a lot of slipping around. How would you walk if the floor had oil on it? Or did the leather help you walk?
[ She glances at Alistair quizzically. Maybe he knows more about leather and oil on the floor. ]
The last time I wrote a letter to my Mother, she sent it back with my spelling and grammar corrected--
[ And then, whoops. Zevran is awake. Beleth leans up a little more to look over at him. ]
I mean, Zevran's absolutely right. Keepers are called Keepers because they're the gardeners who keep us watered and weeded.
...
Triplets and oil sounds so messy. Like, were there towels involved in your dreams, too? Leather can't soak up a lot of oil. And it sounds like there would be a lot of slipping around. How would you walk if the floor had oil on it? Or did the leather help you walk?
[ She glances at Alistair quizzically. Maybe he knows more about leather and oil on the floor. ]
My mother does that, too, [ Alistair says, in a wondering sort of tone, and also the tone of a transparent and terrible liar. ] Maybe they're related.
[ —good morning, Zevran. Good night. Something. ]
That... doesn't sound completely impossible.
[ He doesn't believe it, of course, but if he were going to believe Dalish weren't born the usual way, that would be a good alternative. Triplets, oil, and an obscene amount of leather, on the other hand—he laughs, with a mildly panicked edge of the sort he gets whenever he's harmlessly uncomfortable, and reaches his far arm over to muss Zevran's hair, which is clearly the best way to make him stop being grumpy. Clearly. ]
Yes, Zevran, please tell Beleth if the leather helps you walk.
[ —good morning, Zevran. Good night. Something. ]
That... doesn't sound completely impossible.
[ He doesn't believe it, of course, but if he were going to believe Dalish weren't born the usual way, that would be a good alternative. Triplets, oil, and an obscene amount of leather, on the other hand—he laughs, with a mildly panicked edge of the sort he gets whenever he's harmlessly uncomfortable, and reaches his far arm over to muss Zevran's hair, which is clearly the best way to make him stop being grumpy. Clearly. ]
Yes, Zevran, please tell Beleth if the leather helps you walk.
It is true. I helped plant a few when we were in the Brecilian forest. [ Too late. He's up, he's grumpy and grumbling, propping himself up on Alistair, curled against his side like a cat and peering through the dim light to Beleth. There is just enough from the dull glow of the brazier in the corner to cause them to light up like a cat's. Enjoy that visual, Alistair. ]
The slipping is part of the fun, the leather is what we were wearing- or at least what some of us were wearing. Have you ever had a good oiling, Beleth? I know Alistair here is long overdue- feel his elbows- they are all ashy and dry.
The slipping is part of the fun, the leather is what we were wearing- or at least what some of us were wearing. Have you ever had a good oiling, Beleth? I know Alistair here is long overdue- feel his elbows- they are all ashy and dry.
Could it be that you're half-Dalish, Alistair? I knew you were reasonable to be completely human.
[ She makes a face at Zevran because that sounds dirty, but she has a sneaking suspicion that was on purpose. Like everything else he says. She shifts to peer at Zevran over Alistair, giving Alistair, surely the luckiest man in Thedas, twin pairs of shining eyes in the dimness of the room. ]
...I guess slipping around could be fun if you were careful not to hit your head. Maybe if you made a ramp and slid down it...? That would be pretty--
[ The word 'oiling' is met with a strangled sound of disgust, because she has never heard someone ask if she's ever done anything that sounded less appealing in her life. Her expression would have been just as well suited if Zevran had asked her if she liked to take a dip in a vat of glue. Alistair is given the same expression when he's mentioned, like this is his fault, somehow. ]
Ugh--I--By the Dread Wolf, no. And leave Alistair alone, his elbows are just fine.
[ She makes a face at Zevran because that sounds dirty, but she has a sneaking suspicion that was on purpose. Like everything else he says. She shifts to peer at Zevran over Alistair, giving Alistair, surely the luckiest man in Thedas, twin pairs of shining eyes in the dimness of the room. ]
...I guess slipping around could be fun if you were careful not to hit your head. Maybe if you made a ramp and slid down it...? That would be pretty--
[ The word 'oiling' is met with a strangled sound of disgust, because she has never heard someone ask if she's ever done anything that sounded less appealing in her life. Her expression would have been just as well suited if Zevran had asked her if she liked to take a dip in a vat of glue. Alistair is given the same expression when he's mentioned, like this is his fault, somehow. ]
Ugh--I--By the Dread Wolf, no. And leave Alistair alone, his elbows are just fine.
My elbows are just fine, [ Alistair repeats, emphatically, like see there. Two against one.
Meanwhile he's looking between the two of them and their glinting eyes, and after a pause for consideration he lifts both hands and covers both of their faces—Zevran's directly, palm to face, and Beleth's more politely, with his hand held in the air between them like a shield. Better. ]
No one is oiling me. But I like that ramp idea.
Meanwhile he's looking between the two of them and their glinting eyes, and after a pause for consideration he lifts both hands and covers both of their faces—Zevran's directly, palm to face, and Beleth's more politely, with his hand held in the air between them like a shield. Better. ]
No one is oiling me. But I like that ramp idea.
You both need a good soak and oiling. Your skin is so dry, Alistair, it makes me sad.
[ So sad. If only he had a bosom on which to rest his head.
When the hand comes he doesn't miss a beat, continuing to speak as though there were nothing on his face at all. ]
I will see this thing done for the good of Thedas.
[ So sad. If only he had a bosom on which to rest his head.
When the hand comes he doesn't miss a beat, continuing to speak as though there were nothing on his face at all. ]
I will see this thing done for the good of Thedas.
[ Beleth is momentarily distracted by a hand in front of her face. She's a bit confused, though she does appreciate Alistair not just dropping his hand right on her face. Thanks, Alistair. After blinking at the hand a moment, she continues talking, since that's what Zevran seems to feel is the appropriate response. ]
A soak? I bathe, Zevran. Are you saying you think that we don't bathe? Do we smell bad?
And please don't talk about oiling anyone. It sounds so.
[ Nose wrinkle. ]
Dirty.
A soak? I bathe, Zevran. Are you saying you think that we don't bathe? Do we smell bad?
And please don't talk about oiling anyone. It sounds so.
[ Nose wrinkle. ]
Dirty.
I probably smell bad, [ Alistair says, fairly and cheerfully, without lowering his hands. He probably really does. A little. In an earthy way. Take the boy out of the stables but not the stables out of the boy, etc.
Dirty makes him snicker. As if he has the right. As if he wouldn't be saying exactly the same thing if he were a little younger and a little less accustomed to Zevran. ]
Dirty makes him snicker. As if he has the right. As if he wouldn't be saying exactly the same thing if he were a little younger and a little less accustomed to Zevran. ]
I am saying you do not tend to your skin and your heels are cracked and if you keep rubbing your feet on me while we share the same bed I am permitted to have opinions on your lack of self care.
[ He snorts, eyebrows emoting under Alistair's hand. Beleth couldn't see it- but Alistair can feel it. ]
It can be deliciously filthy- but with you? No.
[ He snorts, eyebrows emoting under Alistair's hand. Beleth couldn't see it- but Alistair can feel it. ]
It can be deliciously filthy- but with you? No.
My heels are calloused because shoes are confining and uncomfortable. If I started lathering them in oil, then it'd start to hurt when I walked outside. I'll wear socks in bed from now on.
[ Shoes are for the WEAK. If she wore shoes people would start to think she was adapting to shemlen culture. First shoes, then the next thing you know, you're praising Andraste. A slippery slope. ]
But thank you for not being deliciously filthy. Or disgustingly filthy. Or any variation thereof.
[ She moves her head up enough to peer at Alistair over his hand. ]
I think you smell fine. In a...manly way...?
[ She glances at Zevran. Is that complimentary--Oh, he can't even see her. She sticks her tongue out at him. ]
[ Shoes are for the WEAK. If she wore shoes people would start to think she was adapting to shemlen culture. First shoes, then the next thing you know, you're praising Andraste. A slippery slope. ]
But thank you for not being deliciously filthy. Or disgustingly filthy. Or any variation thereof.
[ She moves her head up enough to peer at Alistair over his hand. ]
I think you smell fine. In a...manly way...?
[ She glances at Zevran. Is that complimentary--Oh, he can't even see her. She sticks her tongue out at him. ]
[ All of this talk about skin care and shoes is fine, great; the conversation puts him far closer to falling asleep than silence does, anymore, just like it's easier for him to sleep in the mornings when he can eat the birds and people moving around than in the dead of night. He laughs, but he's drooping a little, until Beleth peers over his hand and he says, ] Aaaahhh, [ a very calm approximation of alarm. He's fine. ] I can't see in the dark as well as you. It's just your eyes, floating there. You look like deepstalkers.
You are going to freeze your toes off when we reach Emprise du Lion. I will find you a proper pair of boots and you will wear them so you do not get frostbite.
[ It's all about the right pair of boots, really. Though the peering earns a quirked brow. ]
May I have my eyes back, then? Or am I to live the rest of my days with your hand over my face- because that will likely trouble a few of my lovers.
[ It's all about the right pair of boots, really. Though the peering earns a quirked brow. ]
May I have my eyes back, then? Or am I to live the rest of my days with your hand over my face- because that will likely trouble a few of my lovers.
I've only been through one human holiday and I already hate them all.
I ended things with James.
[She doesn't want to talk to anyone else about it, for some reason. Alistair is just...solid and reassuring and that's what she needs right now. Almost everybody else she knows, she has to be solid and reassuring for.]
I ended things with James.
[She doesn't want to talk to anyone else about it, for some reason. Alistair is just...solid and reassuring and that's what she needs right now. Almost everybody else she knows, she has to be solid and reassuring for.]
I'll remember that I'm technically helping Orlesians, and burning hatred will keep me toasty warm.
[ She turns to Alistair--Oh. He seems a bit sleepy. And apparently startled by her creepy glowy purple eyes. Go figure. ]
Maybe I am a deepstalker. Grr, or whatever noise they make.
[ When that, she closes her eyes and flops down next to Alistair, leaning in against him in what might seem like a gesture of affection, but is actually a ploy to leech his body heat like a pointy-eared parasite. She does open an eye to look at Zevran. ]
...I'd pay to see that, honestly.
[ She turns to Alistair--Oh. He seems a bit sleepy. And apparently startled by her creepy glowy purple eyes. Go figure. ]
Maybe I am a deepstalker. Grr, or whatever noise they make.
[ When that, she closes her eyes and flops down next to Alistair, leaning in against him in what might seem like a gesture of affection, but is actually a ploy to leech his body heat like a pointy-eared parasite. She does open an eye to look at Zevran. ]
...I'd pay to see that, honestly.
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