thecapitol | let's share demons.

Who| Alistair Theirin & you !
What| Alistair's musing over waking up in the Capitol ; he's recently learned that a few familiar names are alive. He's on edge, and would appreciate a bit of explanation.
Where| Training Center Roof
When| A few days after the week six death announcements
Warnings/Notes| Talk of death, coarse language, possible DA:O spoilers, possibe purple prose ( i saw someone else tag this? so there u go. )

' Maker, preserve us -- '.

Neck pops and battle-born hands clasp in each other, a stressed sweat pouring down his jawline. All of this was so strange, so distant from the world he called home. He stands, pulling himself from the crouched position on the top of the roof. His back tenses, heart racing; it's then, in that moment that he realizes he hadn't been this nervous since his battles with the Wardens, causing a sense of nostalgia to rush over him. He swallows, shaking his head as he looks out onto this strange city; why had they taken him?

Frustration sets in, and he grips at his hair. Why had they taken him? Confiscated Duncan's blade and shield from him? None of it made sense -- and to know, there are familiar faces dying in that Arena right now? That thought alone drove him up the wall. Wringing hands and watching the mechanical city shift from afternoon to evening, Alistair began to pace. There were more Wardens now, yes, but he was in hiding, a person of interest. Their Warden-Commander was missing as well; trapped in that Arena of theirs... would they be missed? Would an investigation be launched to find them?

Doubtful.

A sound pulls the man's attention over his shoulder, not relaxing. Never relaxing. With his arms visibly tensed, the vein on his neck protruding normal skin, the bastard son's hazel eyes burrowed into those of the person who joined him on the roof.

' Friend, or foe? '

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' Is that so, ' He sighs at her response; truly, that was the one thing he didn't want to hear. If there was a pattern or if they had picked people based on different attributes... he would know why he was chosen. He could figure out how to go home.

' There's a young woman on the televisions nowadays-- Tabris? I know her. I know her quite well. She is... she is the only one I can name off of the top of my head. ' Chest rises and falls, chin lifted so that he can look at the city around him. If one looked close enough, they would see his teeth bite the inside of his cheeks, skin pulled tight on the outside. ' And now I know you. Not well, nor properly, but we are aware of each other's presence. '

"She's been working with the group calling itself an Inquisition, right?" Shepard had never met an actual honest-to-god elf before, though Thranduil made himself hard to miss, and she knew the race wasn't exactly...

...She could the idea of elves to seem sane, even ordinary, but it wasn't easy. Nothing that had come before had adequately prepared her for the daily absurdities that came to her in the Capitol. After so long, she should probably just be grateful that she still had the capacity to be surprised.

"So, you know her. That make you friends?"

No sense not being sure, after all.

"She's my wife."

The declaration is a bit sudden, causing the man to shift awkwardly on his heels. Breaking the pseudo-parade rest, the Warden crosses his arms over his chest for a second time, turning to face her. Jaw sets, and he looks a bit... awkward, almost, telling the Commander this.

"I would go on about her for hours if I was told to. But I won't bore you with those details. After all, you look like you've been here a while. You know of her."

"We had a friendly conversation," Shepard tilts her head a little, almost embarrassed by her former reticence, "I like Tabris, seems like she lands on her feet."

A fair advantage, in this place.

"Yes, literally and metaphorically." He nods, gaze downcast.

"So, what's your story then, Commander Shepard?" The quick change of topic is perhaps a bit rushed and awkward, in the Warden's opinion, but it's necessary. He's curious, startled by this Commander (she doesn't look like a Commander he's ever seen before, but he does intend to treat her as such.) in question. "You claim to have been in 'District Five' for a couple of years. You must have been in quite a few arenas, then."

"I've had my share of action. Coulda won, a couple of times, if I wanted."

She really, truly doesn't. Winning is a punishment for surviving, in her humble opinion-- and her real work is on the inside, not sitting around the captiol, wearing a hole in the floor.

Alistair is right to be startled; Commander Shepard is not a calming influence.

"I'm a career soldier, I do what I have to to get the job done. I don't like to screw around. Back home, I got a big war waiting for me, and the way I hear it, if it isn't gonna be me winning the fight, it might not be anybody, so... You can imagine how much I just love being here."

"I sense a bit of sarcasm in your voice, Commander Shepard."

He chuckles for a moment, arms crossing over his chest. "I have a war to tend to in my home as well. The way you put this makes it sound like a nuisance in comparison to the tragedies of our worlds."

"War will exist as long as there is profit and politics." The Warden looks off to the side, lip curling in distaste as he shakes his head, and he lets his arms fall to his side. "But I prefer to not talk about the grit of it all. Not while there are other things to do."

"Me? Nah, I'm never sarcastic."

She said. Sarcastically.

But then, she has to laugh at that, even if it's just an amused breath for his grimace, and the certainty in his voice. Would that it were that easy.

"It's not really that kind of war," she folded her arms, still offering him that helpless smirk, "More of a... We fight or we all die, end of the world type scenario. Monsters from the dark."

"I understand that more than I'd like to admit," Alistair sighs, wringing his hands in distaste. "The Darkspawn are something that are a danger to all, a pleasure to none."

The Warden sighs, shaking his head. "I wish the best of luck to your cause, then. May your weapons be sharp and your wits be sharper. I believe one of my senior Wardens said that once."

let's share demons. | open!

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