But that someone isn't Alistair. Not intentionally, anyway. He's barely twenty-three, frequently a bit drunk, occasionally a lot drunk, only nominally in charge of anyone, and doesn't really think of himself as someone who deals with things.
But he is a person who's been asked to go look into a possible darkspawn sighting at the closest settlement, and a person who's been told to take one of the new recruits along, and a person with a heart big enough to pick out the most scraggly puppy in the litter to love the most.
So he's outside her tent now, giving the upper point of canvas a quick and friendly rattle, like a knock. "Von Skadder," he says. "Skater? Skrate—Warden." That will have to do for now. "How do you feel about horses?"
no subject
But that someone isn't Alistair. Not intentionally, anyway. He's barely twenty-three, frequently a bit drunk, occasionally a lot drunk, only nominally in charge of anyone, and doesn't really think of himself as someone who deals with things.
But he is a person who's been asked to go look into a possible darkspawn sighting at the closest settlement, and a person who's been told to take one of the new recruits along, and a person with a heart big enough to pick out the most scraggly puppy in the litter to love the most.
So he's outside her tent now, giving the upper point of canvas a quick and friendly rattle, like a knock. "Von Skadder," he says. "Skater? Skrate—Warden." That will have to do for now. "How do you feel about horses?"