Peasants are still prone to get stabby with Dalish. Just saying. I'll spite them for that.
...I'll try the boots, though.
[ She figures it's the least she can do. And she makes an attempt to copy both attempts at deepstalker noises, before making a face. And reaching across Alistair to poke Zevran in the nose. ]
The scariest deepstalker I've ever seen. Look at that face. Terrifying.
...It's past your bedtime too, you're both too old to stay up so late.
[ He cracks his eyes back open to look at Zevran's face when Beleth suggests it, considers how terrifying it is, and puts a heavy hand on the back of Zevran's head to drag him down against his chest where he can't scare anyone. ]
We are very old. [ Past his bedtime, past everyone's bed time, he and Zevran are ancient, Beleth is a youthful and beautiful flower. ] But I can't sleep without a story.
Mmm. [ He settles against Alistair's chest without blinking, reaching across him to rub Beleth's shoulder. For a moment he's somewhere else, some-when else, another pair of bodies in another bed, lounging after making love instead of simply to rest.
It passes. ]
Would you like the one where I bamboozle an Antivan Merchant Prince into proposing simply so I might steal his family's most prized possession- or the one where I had to spend three months as a seer in some obscure temple? Or perhaps the time I earned money as 'dragon bait', that was fun.
[ Her mouth twitches. He's right, but she also has an entire exalted march to feel heated about, and the fact that those Orlesian peasants are still settled in the Dales, the lands rightfully her people's. But she doubts that the story Alistair wants is an angry Dalish rant. ]
--Have a funny accent.
[ This matter settled, she turns to watch Zevran, blinking slowly. She's not tired. She's a youthful and beautiful flower. ]
...I vote for the seer. But I want an Antivan Merchant Prince to propose to me. Then I'd be a princess. Do you think he's still single?
Still smitten with Zevran, I'd bet, [ Alistair drawls. He's already falling asleep. If they keep talking he'll manage it quickly. ] Do the seer one. I don't think I've heard it.
He's dead. [ a beat. ] I didn't actually kill him. He choked on a scallop a year or so ago, alas. He did love his shellfish.
[ Zevran stretches a hand up to comb through Alistair's hair, a soothing gesture as he began to outline how it was he'd been painted and primed as a seer.
There were goats and literal paint involved- as well as a lot of drugged dancing wherein he had to behave like an elf possessed without being possessed and while stone cold sober. ]
[ But she quiets down as Zevran tells the story, trying to keep one eye open. But, before the story ends, both eyes shut, and her breathing is slow and even.
And she might be drooling on Alistair. Sorry bro. ]
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...I'll try the boots, though.
[ She figures it's the least she can do. And she makes an attempt to copy both attempts at deepstalker noises, before making a face. And reaching across Alistair to poke Zevran in the nose. ]
The scariest deepstalker I've ever seen. Look at that face. Terrifying.
...It's past your bedtime too, you're both too old to stay up so late.
[ Old. Oooold. ]
no subject
[ He cracks his eyes back open to look at Zevran's face when Beleth suggests it, considers how terrifying it is, and puts a heavy hand on the back of Zevran's head to drag him down against his chest where he can't scare anyone. ]
We are very old. [ Past his bedtime, past everyone's bed time, he and Zevran are ancient, Beleth is a youthful and beautiful flower. ] But I can't sleep without a story.
[ Not really. But on the other hand: really. ]
no subject
It passes. ]
Would you like the one where I bamboozle an Antivan Merchant Prince into proposing simply so I might steal his family's most prized possession- or the one where I had to spend three months as a seer in some obscure temple? Or perhaps the time I earned money as 'dragon bait', that was fun.
no subject
[ Her mouth twitches. He's right, but she also has an entire exalted march to feel heated about, and the fact that those Orlesian peasants are still settled in the Dales, the lands rightfully her people's. But she doubts that the story Alistair wants is an angry Dalish rant. ]
--Have a funny accent.
[ This matter settled, she turns to watch Zevran, blinking slowly. She's not tired. She's a youthful and beautiful flower. ]
...I vote for the seer. But I want an Antivan Merchant Prince to propose to me. Then I'd be a princess. Do you think he's still single?
no subject
no subject
[ Zevran stretches a hand up to comb through Alistair's hair, a soothing gesture as he began to outline how it was he'd been painted and primed as a seer.
There were goats and literal paint involved- as well as a lot of drugged dancing wherein he had to behave like an elf possessed without being possessed and while stone cold sober. ]
no subject
[ But she quiets down as Zevran tells the story, trying to keep one eye open. But, before the story ends, both eyes shut, and her breathing is slow and even.
And she might be drooling on Alistair. Sorry bro. ]