so an elf and a witch of the wilds walk into a bar....

[elfroot]

Characters: Zevran Arainai, Morrigan, Alistair I hope, and anyone else who might be interested...
Setting/Location: One very lucky inn!
Date & Time: Day 0, morningish
Warnings: Do not disturb a sleeping witch.
Summary: In order to leave town, you must first choose your party members.

Comments

[dissentive]

Morrigan was thoroughly unimpressed by his words, and further so by his smile. She's hardly the type to be so easily persuaded by a flash of teeth, now as much as ever. "Tell me something I do not know," she deadpanned in response to both comments, eyes half lidded as she gazed at the elf before she, too, took a gander at her surroundings - more importantly, the heavy oak door. Using her staff casually as a walking stick, though more importantly to have it unsheathed in case something was behind said door, she strode confidently enough towards it. She rested her hand on the warm wood and, sensing nothing of magical integrity, opened it easily enough with a sharp twist of the door knob--

Only for the door to knock directly into a servant girl carrying a large pile of sheets in her arms - surely whisking down the hallway to her next task, and surely in Morrigan's way. Harmless enough, however certainly an obstacle to step over whilst the girl was busy gathering her dropped linens and apologizing profusely. T'was of little concern to

[dissentive]

"Unfortunately," Morrigan could not help but comment to Alistair's initial statement. Zevran did have the rather annoying ability to keep his mouth wide open.

His words made Morrigan's brow furrow deeply. Alistair did not remember - to the point, indeed, that he seemed to have forgotten a large portion of their journey, and was so certain that he had not yet experienced them. 'Twas most curious. Perhaps whatever spell that had brought them here - or had them think they were brought here - had affected Alistair's mind more than Morrigan could imagine. Or maybe, indeed, he had his head hit far too much. This was much more likely.

Though, to be honest, she would have much preferred had they skipped Orzammar all together. She was certain she had lost the majority of her scarves to the dwarf to roll his fish in and wipe his nose with. Indeed, had she known Oghren had such a fancy for women's accessories, she would have even fetched him some so that he stop using hers.

[elfroot]

Of all the people who wished to forget Orzammar--and its particular indecencies, not to mention the truly haunting events they had encountered in that place; not just the Broodmother herself, though she was fodder enough for nightmares, but the truth behind her, and what had transpired in those Deep Roads--Zevran believed himself uncommonly high upon that list. But he had not forgotten, nor would he ever forget. Likewise, he was certain beyond a doubt that Alistair had been there. Daydreaming, perhaps, but he had helped slay the beast, and had made comment enough regarding that particular little excursion that it seemed quite unlikely the man would have forgotten it completely. If only because it was so simple to complain about it, really

[righteous]

Alistair was sure he heard the faint voice of Morrigan coming through the device. He was probably just hearing things, or maybe...he shook the thought from his mind; being swooped up by a Witch of the Wilds wasn't something he wanted to think about.

"Riiight, I'll try to keep that in mind." He was of course oblivious to Zevran's clever stalling, but then Alistair had never been one to pick up on these things; perception was a rarity he'd only enjoyed a handful of times.

Zevran was so adamant about what he was saying though, and Alistair tried to process it - to work out what it could all mean - but nothing.

"Nope. I had nothing on my mind. I'm Alistair, I don't think. At all." Well it was one way of getting the point across to Zevran, a joke would surely fare better than just arguing about some dwarf.

The mention of Morrigan suddenly put the thought of being swooped came back into his mind. He had tried so hard to push the thought out, really he did. He groans.

"I'd rather not be stuck, much less with Morrigan of all people." At

that is wayyy fine with me haha

[dissentive]

Morrigan scowled. 'twas not as if she had any desire to be stranded with Alistair, neither - she would have indeed preferred Oghren, of all people. But beggars cannot be choosers, and she would be foolish to deny that though she would find enjoyment in drowning Alistair alongside a bag of kittens, their particular talents did complement eachother well enough on the field of battle. And Zevran, well, at least he could pick locks. While she quietly goaded Alistair and his supplemental amounts of stupidity, she knew at least that there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Perhaps 'twould be wise to inquire as to where the toadstool has managed to hovel himself," Morrigan prompted languidly, though she had had quite enough of all their idiotic banter. They were wasting time - indeed, twas certain that they were wasting Morrigan's time, above all else. In the time it would take to remind the fool that Cousland was male, they would surely all be dead! Or perhaps bored to thus.