Being back at Skyhold isn't as bad as he expected.
It's still bad, of course -- but that's more because it'd be bad anywhere. Alistair takes to idle wandering around the fortress most days and nights, anxious to keep moving whenever possible, retreating back to his room every so often when he fears he might haul off and punch someone for staring too long. Word about the prodigal Warden's return spread fast: where he would've been ignored before, he gets looks ranging from curiosity to concern to outright pity.
(A few times, he's spotted the Inquisition's resident Fade expert striding purposefully toward him, only to be intercepted by the Inquisitor with some Very Urgent Business or another. Alistair's pretty sure what qualified as "urgent business" was "keep Alistair from tearing the elf to shreds, both verbally and physically." He's grateful.)
His wandering takes him to the garden most days, Morrigan's presence be damned; he just sticks to the other side of courtyard and keeps his back to her. Today, thank the Maker, she seems to be elsewhere. It's just a handful of people, Cullen over there with his chessboard, and --
Oh.
Alistair slows his approach, halting about ten feet away. There's a convenient pillar to lean against. Or maybe hide behind, but -- no, he'll just lean against it and try to look as casual as possible as he watches the lesson.
no subject
It's still bad, of course -- but that's more because it'd be bad anywhere. Alistair takes to idle wandering around the fortress most days and nights, anxious to keep moving whenever possible, retreating back to his room every so often when he fears he might haul off and punch someone for staring too long. Word about the prodigal Warden's return spread fast: where he would've been ignored before, he gets looks ranging from curiosity to concern to outright pity.
(A few times, he's spotted the Inquisition's resident Fade expert striding purposefully toward him, only to be intercepted by the Inquisitor with some Very Urgent Business or another. Alistair's pretty sure what qualified as "urgent business" was "keep Alistair from tearing the elf to shreds, both verbally and physically." He's grateful.)
His wandering takes him to the garden most days, Morrigan's presence be damned; he just sticks to the other side of courtyard and keeps his back to her. Today, thank the Maker, she seems to be elsewhere. It's just a handful of people, Cullen over there with his chessboard, and --
Oh.
Alistair slows his approach, halting about ten feet away. There's a convenient pillar to lean against. Or maybe hide behind, but -- no, he'll just lean against it and try to look as casual as possible as he watches the lesson.