thecapitol | moments. ( closed ! )

Entry tags:

moments. ( closed ! )

Who | alistair theirin + revas tabris.♥
What | tabris needs to talk and alistair needs a moment of peace.
Where | the foxhole !
When | three weeks or so before the arena
Warnings/Notes| cursing if that bothers you, alcohol consumption.

If he were to be completely honest, Alistair would tell you that had not been on a date with his wife since their wedding, which is beautifully ironic seeing as how they've been married for quite a while. So, when Tabris had pulled him into a corridor by the collar and told him to be at a place called the Foxhole (which he had later learned from another Tribute was a... bar?) and to look nice, Alistair couldn't help but be a bit excited.

Until she said, 'We need to talk.'.

So there he sat, dressed to the sixes (it wasn't completely to the nines... he's been dressed in nicer), in an outfit that he had convinced a stylist to let him borrow. With a quick 'sob story' about how he'd like to see his darling wife one last time before the next arena where he and she would be pitted head to head in a fight to the death with dozens upon dozens of other Tributes, he seemed to pull at the heartstrings of an onlooker and got something laid on his bed later that day.

( And they told him he wouldn't make it in this world. Suck on that. )

It was something of a commonplace suit -- of course, nothing that any upstanding Ferelden man would wear; this suit was made of various colored strings and had some kind of tie that goes around your neck. The white shirt was well-fitted for the Warden, as if someone had intended for him to wear it later on. The black jacket was un-buttoned, revealing a sort of vest underneath, well-equipped with a silver pocketwatch, and pinned to his right shoulder was a sort of plaid, blue fabric with a symbol, which easily reminded him of home.

He had already had about half a drink in him, something to calm the nerves and prepare him for whatever it was that Tabris needed to talk about with him. The other half of the drink was in the glass held in sweaty palms. A rogue thought crosses Alistair's mind, and a chuckle escapes his lips -- he hadn't been this nervous since he asked her to share a tent with him... or to marry him... Maker's breath, has it been that long?

The door to the Foxtrot opened, pulling the attention of the Warden with a smile, only to have his jaw drop upon the entrance of the woman he was waiting for-- the woman who had promised to meet him here, and the woman who took away his breath, no matter what she was wearing, no matter when and where she was. Her sheer presence brought him back to that wonder-filled state, his expression the same one he had had on his face when Alistair presented Tabris with that rose back in Orzhammar. (How stupid was he, for doing that then...? Oh, if he could only go back in time.)

"Maker's breath."

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When she told him to dress nicely, she had expected some nice trousers and a pressed shirt. Certainly, she hadn't dressed as fully as she could--A short skirt, and a baggy sweater to chase away the last chills of spring. Tights were something new as well, but she had a fondness for the way they made her legs look. And the way that Alistair looked at her legs when she wore them.

When she steps in, it's easy enough to locate Alistair--And her face breaks into a fond grin. Andraste's ass, of course he'd take dressing up very literally. What a dork. But he was her dork. And that way that he looked at her...She'd marry him again, right then and there. Maker, he was so...everything good in this world.

She sashays up to him, hips swishing as the smile stays fast on her lips, even as she reaches up to kiss his cheek. "Of course you'd make me look like a hobo. Look at you. How did I manage to get such a handsome husband?" She murmured gently to him, giving him a gentle nuzzle, before fetching a chair, and sliding into it. She flagged down someone to pass them drinks, and passed him one--She had no idea what they were, besides alcoholic, but they were good.

"Here--Oh, you already got a drink. Well. You'll need more than one." She told him, slipping into grimness easily. They had a lot of things to talk about, and all of it was not as fun as getting to oogle him in his suit.

"Oh, don't word it like that," Alistair pleaded with her, finishing down the first drink before sliding the second into his hands. As she takes the seat, he leans over the table to reciprocate the kiss on the cheek, planting one happily just in front of her ear, at the tip of her cheekbone. "You look too lovely to be giving me bad news."

He adjusts himself back into the chair, crossing one leg over his other. His ankle rests on his knee, taking a moment out of his fluid motion to clean a bit of dust off of the black pants and adjust his tie. "I wasn't sure what you meant by dress up, but I do hope you like it." And cue that dorky grin that made her fall for him in the first place.

He looks up to be met with that grim look, and his lips flatten, appropriately taking a drink of the liquor, sighing through his nose.

"You aren't leaving me, are you?"

"You flatterer," She replied with a cheer that she didn't feel. She took a sip of her own drink, letting the alcohol burn in her mouth before swallowing it down, so it could burn the rest of her. The warmth it gave her steeled her a little. She glances over at him, and lazily takes his tie, fiddling with it with a smirk. Maker's breath, he was gorgeous.

"I like everything you wear, no matter what it is. Even if it was nothing. ...Especially if it were nothing." She added the last part, giving a little giggle. That dumb grin did things to her, good lord. She reached out, then stared at him as he asked--Oh, Maker's breath. She took that tie in her fist, and pulled him to her, smashing her lips against his firmly.

"Never," She breathed, pulling a few hairs away from him. "You're stuck with me, Alistair. Until death do us part. That's what I said." She bumped her forehead against him. "No, nothing like that. I wanted to talk to you about the arena. And...Beyond the arena."

"Oh, thank the Maker," He sighed softly, taking her hand in his as he sat back down, a sense of relief washing over him -- he had been so paranoid about all of that, the thought of his beautiful, strong, intelligent wife leaving him.

"Right. That makes much more logical sense." He relaxed a bit, drinking with his free hand. Tabris, of course, had already been through an arena; her expertise would be very beneficial to him, especially if he wanted to survive. (Not that... death mattered in this world. That was a concept Alistair was still trying to wrap his mind around.)

"Go on. What do I need to expect?"

"Dumbass," She told him affectionately, squeezing his hand, then pressing her lips to his knuckles. "You think I'm going to leave you after all of this? I'd have to find someone better than you. And that person doesn't exist, so." She clicked her tongue at him. If she had ever entertained thoughts of leaving him--Which she hadn't--doing so while they were stuck in this hellhole would be suicidal. Her psyche couldn't handle it doing this alone.

She gave a little sigh, looking at her drink. "The first thing you need to expect is Anders. He's here, and we're going to be separated from the rest of the Thedasians for the most part and stay with him. No one else is going to want to ally with him, and I'll be damned if I'm leaving him alone." She said this part firmly. Tabris took 'loyal to a fault' to its logical extreme. No Warden of hers was going to be left behind in that nightmare.

"I know that he's got...issues. But he's a good man. No one else has seen him for who he can be. One act doesn't make a person." She told him, squeezing his hand. "And he doesn't deserve to face his first arena with no one there for him. He's still a Warden, Alistair. And I'm the one who recruited him."

His tongue runs along his bottom lip, tasting alcohol and his lover on his lips. She raises a point, but alas-- he's a mage. A mage who blew up the Chantry of Kirkwall. But she's right.

He is a Warden.

"I understand." Alistair nods, a bit on the fence. "If that is what you think the best plan is, that is what we'll do. I trust you and your intuition, Mrs. Warden-Commander." He adds on that last bit with a mixture of hope and sarcasm, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

"We won't leave him alone," He tells her, sitting forward, "And it would be beneficial to us to have someone like him in our pseudo-party. But if it comes between you and him, you have to understand the kind of decision I'd have to make. I will be damned if your life is the decision of a possibly heretic mage."

"I knew you would understand." She said, and he was rewarded with a dazzling grin, and then a soft kiss. People may say he was wrapped around her finger--And he was--but she wanted to make sure that he was at least happy there. So his face got peppered in kisses, a thank you for his show of faith. He was truly the most faithful man she had ever known, in every aspect of his life. Regarding his Maker, regarding his wife. He was so...good. How did he ever fall for someone like her?

But she nods along with his next statement. She's not dumb enough to think that Alistair could ever be talked into putting someone like Ander's life above hers--Indeed, she found it hard to imagine him valuing anyone else's life as highly. It wasn't egotistical--She knew her husband, and he occupied the same place for her. She would put him above anyone, kill anyone, to protect him.

Which brought her to her next thing she had to tell him. She scooted her chair closer to his, glad that their table was away from everyone else. When she spoke, it was in a whisper, just loud enough for Alistair to hear. "I know, babe. I know. But there's something else I gotta tell you, too. I was on the network late at night the other day...and I got a message. Well. A lot of people did. There's a place out there...that's against the Capitol." She spoke carefully, eyes darting around. Trying to look calm. She could be killed, for what she's just said. It's a lot easier to be overheard.

But Alistair had to know.

"You can't tell anyone, Alistair. Shepard already knows, but you can't talk to her about it, not unless you know the place is safe, like this is. These people... They're going to help us. They want to get people out. I told them that if we could ever do anything, we'll help." She gave a little sigh, staring at her drink. "I'm tired of having these strangers pulling my strings, Alistair. I want to expose the people holding them, and I want to cut the strings, and them."

Now that was something to take in.

He sat there for a moment, in sheer shock of what she had said. Hey, babe, I know you just got here and you finally just got mentally adjusted to this place and all, but by the way, we're going to become rebels and possibly get executed!! I love you!! His free hand is moved from his drink to his lips, scruffed cheeks pressed against his palm as he comprehends what his wife has just told him.

"You didn't talk to me before you signed me up for this as well?" Albeit, he would have signed on in a heartbeat, it was the simple fact that she didn't talk to him before saying anything that irked him a little. Brow furrowing at her, he decided there was no place or time to have a civil argument about this.

"Who are they," he asks, looking at the elf girl, his voice lowered as well. To any passerby, it would just look like the two lovers were whispering cute things into one-another's personal space, but to the two, it was much more serious and much more scary. "Do you have a name? Who all have they contacted? Can you tell me anything, Tabris?"

She winced, because he was mad, and he had the right to be. Signing him up for something without his permission...especially something this grave. It wasn't fair. But it still stung, and her next words were hissed out angrily. "Well, then, I'll just dial them back, and tell them that you changed your mind, and that I'll be helping alone, Alistair." The words were unfair, and she knew that as soon as she said them, but she was frustrated. What did he want her to do? Tell them to hold, track down Alistair, explain to him in the middle of the guarded tower, and then get back to them?

She'd been thinking on her feet, like she always had, and dragging everyone along. It could be a good thing...but not always.

"They're District 13. According to the Capitol, they don't exist--They rebelled, got bombed right off the map. But they're still there, and they're still fighting the Capitol. They didn't give me a lot of information, the time frame was limited, and there's still no guarantee that they couldn't be overheard. Shepard is in on it, she's the only one that I know for certain." She rattled off what she knew--It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to get anyone Tabris had so much as fluttered her eyelashes at killed.

He understood.

He didn't like it, but he understood it all-- the secrecy, the need for zipped lips. He had been around Zevran enough to know when mouths needed to be shut and eyes needed to be averted. His expression changes from one of frustration and irritation to a calm understanding, like a calm before a storm. He lifts his hand to brush her hair out of her face, and he sighs.

"Alright." He chuckles softly, as if humor would lighten the scenario. It always did. "Thank you for telling me now, at least. Our plans have always been spontaneous and rough. Why should now be any different?"

Irritated? No. Scared? Yes.

"Just keep me as informed as you can, okay? If that means darting off here between every damned Arena, then we do it. Promise me, Tabris. Promise me you won't keep me in the dark about anything."

Edited 2015-06-01 21:41 (UTC)

"We can't come here too often, it'll get suspicious. But I think a married couple visiting a bar once in a while will be fine." She pointed out to him, drumming her fingers on the table. "We don't need to bring attention to this place. But..."

She turned to him and took his hand, pressing her lips to the knuckles. And she stared into those eyes, those damned gorgeous eyes of his. Maker's breath, she would do anything for this man. That's why she wanted to join this rebellion. She knows, inside, in an ugly part of her, that if the Capitol guaranteed his safety, and she knew she could trust them, she'd switch sides in an instant. She'd kill people, be killed, if it meant that he would be safe.

She would personally kill every fucking asshole in this Capitol for him.

"I promise, Alistair. We're a team. And I couldn't do any of this without you. I don't know if I'd even be able to get up in the morning, if I didn't have your smile to look forward to."

She reached up, cupping his face gently. "I know this has been hard. It's so hard to deal with this. But we have to, if we're going to survive. We have to thrive here. That's what Cullen and the others don't get. When a plant gets uprooted, it can die and wither away, or it can dig its roots into the new ground, and keep growing. We can't die, Alistair. We need to dig our roots in. So...please." She rubs her thumb against his cheek, a soft, adoring smile on her face. "Smile a little more for me."

She knew it wasn't easy, but she hadn't missed how haunted the other Warden could be at times, the way circles grew under his eyes. She didn't miss the way that she seemed so oddly alone in the way that she fit in, learning the technology and watching the TV and listening to the music. Cullen had said their main priority was to stay quiet until they could go home. It was a good sentiment.

But it wasn't the one that she was going to follow.

Both hands leave hers and the cup, the backs of his fingers trailing through short, dark hair before they turn, his hands practically engulfing her freckled face. Quietly, the man did as he was asked by his significant other, a ghost of a smile eventually shifting into a bit of a grin as he looked over the woman he would sacrifice his entire world for. Running his tongue over his lips, Alistair nods to Tabris, leaning forward to press his lips to hers.

"As you wish," he whispers gently, pulling away and letting his hands fall from her face. "I've followed you for the last... Maker knows how long. That isn't going to change just because we're in a strange place. Of course, it is a little strange not having Zevran and Leliana commenting on every aspect of our relationship with one another or being so far apart from one-another for long."

It hit him, in that moment, that the other probably felt the same way, and the blonde man closed his eyes, sighing. They had been so far apart for so long; was it really necessary to get home so soon? Yes. Of course it was, Alistair. You have a mission with the Wardens at home-- but your beautiful wife was sitting right here; there was no need for battle armor, and there was no need for blades now. Just the two of you, smiling and kissing and enjoying one-another's presence amidst the sobering news. Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth in a sigh, Alistair allowed himself to nuzzle his cheek ever so gently against the elf's hand, closing his eyes and indulging in her touch.

He missed her so.

He was right, of course. She did feel similarly--She had no urge to get back home, to return to a quest that was hard and lonely and unpleasant, where it could be months before she can see her husband again. Before she could see that smile that he finally allowed on his lips. Hadn't she sacrificed enough for the Wardens? Hadn't she given them everything else that she had to give?

Her hands rested on top of his, smiling up at him. He was so much bigger than her, his hands larger, the way they seemed to overwhelm her as he held her. But he was so gentle with her, and those hands would never hurt her. This she knew within her heart, better than she knew her own name. That strength, that ability that he possessed would only be used to protect her, keep her safe from any dangers.

So, of course, it was her job to protect him in turn.

She placed another soft kiss on his lips. "There we go. That's the smile I fell in love with. Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me? 'One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.' I was a goner from that point. Should've listened to my father about charming human men." She laughed, reaching to touch his face again.

"Although, maybe I don't mind being a goner. Not when I'm with you."

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ooc. i thought i fuckin replied to this i'm

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