[ 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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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. ]