audio;

[swoopingisbad]

Oh Maker's Breath-

[Alistair pauses. His voice sounds like it's a bit far away; he's holding this new alien device far ahead of him, trying to figure out exactly what it is, nevermind the fact he already knows how to work it.]

Not Ferelden. Definitely not Ferelden. One would think they'd remember coming to a foreign place, just a night before a big event that could determine the fate of the world, but no, I've got no bloody remembrance of anything. Dwarven ale is great, Oghren said. Put hair on your chest, he said. Not wake up in a weird place and nearly nude. Horrible pranks, really. This must be some witchy plot. Swooping everywhere, I know it.

Comments

[Audio]

[threesovereigns]

Indeed, I am here. I have been so for a little over a month, by my reckoning, but some mornings I still swear I can smell the scent of a wet mabari. Your country does not leave one easily, it seems.

[If there's a bit of a teasing gloss on the your part for Ferelden's new king, well, it goes with the territory. He doesn't seem too worried by Alistair's jaunt into places not the throne, but it's a) Zevran and there's b) Anora.]

I believe I am now entirely outnumbered by Wardens, however. If you should find Wynne and her magical bosom while you're in the ship, I would welcome even the attempts to save my soul that seem to go along with it.

[Audio]

[swoopingisbad]

Ferelden does leave a certain scent in your nostrils, doesn't it? Doesn't easily leave, that's for sure.

[He can completely understand the teasing. but tell him he's the next King of Ferelden and he'd just laugh.]

Being outnumbered by Wardens is certainly better than being outnumbered by Darkspawn. [A pause. Did he just say Wynne's magical bosom? Um.] I'll search high and low, but I am pretty sure she wouldn't call her bosom magical.

[Audio]

[threesovereigns]

No, she most certainly would not. [And Zevran pauses, then promptly smirks, the expression nearly audible.] Which is why it's so delightful to refer to it as such where she can hear.

To matters more practical, this world is possessed of devices and conveniences that would make a qunari or dwarven artificer weep, but there is a good sized town a day's walk from the place we awake, and a military outpost closer to it. They have ways to travel much more quickly than by foot, or by horse, and if you show them your earnest face they should help you.

Or I could see if they'll loan me one of their 'trucks' again...

[You should not trust that tone at all, Alastair.]