Dragon Age Origins - Songfic Meme
Praise You Fatboy Slim 5:23
He didn't think he could describe what he felt, he'd never been good with words. Stand and recite Alistair. He could give her the entire chant of light, from start to finish, but there would be nothing that was uniquely hers in that. They'd seen so much, fought together, talked about things he never thought he would with anyone, let alone a woman. But he couldn't articulate what he felt.
In his tent that night he remembered the rose he'd picked, in Lothering. It was probably dead and blackened by now, but he opened the book he'd pressed it in, thinking that at least, might say what he was too inadequate to.
It was still red and beautiful. He could even smell the scent of it, in the pages of his copy of the chant. So lovely. Like she was. He didn't need to tell her how wonderful she was. He could show her instead.
Where is My Mind The Pixies 3:49
Zevran and Alistair were cavorting in what looked like a natural spring. Alim was certain they were both naked. "What are you doing, Zev? I thought you..."
"Never you mind," Alistair responded, arching back as Zevran reached around him to... do something he'd only ever done to Alim.
Desperate to find a different mental image, he moved on.
Morrigan had a cat. She was dressed in Chantry robes. They were talking about something. "No, apostates are supposed to be mysterious and alluring," the cat was saying. "You'll need to change those clothes - something with belts and leather. Show more boob."
Morrigan seemed to be taking it all in. "What are you doing here?" she said as she looked up.
The cat sighed. "And try to be more bitchy. The fans will never love you if you're nice to everyone."
Oghren was sober. He seemed to be running some sort of cake stall. Sten was a customer - looking cranky. "You promised chocolate," He said.
Alim needed to get out of the fade. Quickly.
Minimum Wage - They Might be Giants. 0:47
"You can't expect me to take that!" The women at the pearl were far more fussy than he'd thought they would be.
"Look, I haven't got anything smaller, ok?"
Freedom George Micheal 6:29
Zevran gently eased himself out of his pants. Leather felt good, but he always regretted the difficulty involved in getting it on and taking it off again. Except when someone else was willing to do the job for him.
Today he was sliding into his last bath before the trip to Ferelden. Part of him wished he wasn't going - he was going to miss Antiva, miss his companions. But another part of him couldn't close his eyes without seeing the blood pooling around Rinna's body, the laughter of Roberto as he told him they were nothing.
It didn't matter that the Grey Wardens were meant to be unsurpassable in their skills. Hadn't he boasted he was the best of the crows? Hadn't their success (their high cost, stupid, deadly success) proved Roberto wrong?
In any case, a trip across the ocean would do him good. The further away from Taleisin and Roberto he got, the better. The further away from what he'd done. The further away from where she had been.
He could tell himself it wasn't his fault. He could say he had every reason not to trust her. He could say to Taliesin that he didn't care. But he knew that in the end they were all lies.
Language Is A Virus Laurie Anderson 4:16
Sten didn't understand the warden. Or the others. Take the whiny one. Alistair. He was constantly complaining, constantly trying to be something he wasn't. Making these things... called jokes... that appeared to illicit laughter in the warden. Or perhaps she laughed because she was sexually attracted to the man. That would explain it, considering they certainly weren't funny.
They were constantly doing things he didn't understand. Apologising for things that didn't matter. Asking him questions that had no meaning. Persisting in thinking that he was somehow motivated by the same things they were.
The only one who made any sort of sense to him was the dog. It responded to threats. It ate, it slept, it fought. Sten found himself seeking the animal out at night. Its presence was comforting in a world that had only cookies as compensation.