The alcohol helps. Somewhat. Alistair makes it four hours before bolting awake with a yell half-caught in his throat.
The room -- isn't swimming, exactly, but he still feels a little unsteady when he puts his feet on the floor, and more when he moves his head too much. He breathes, running through the automatic mantra: you're at Skyhold. You're safe.
And he's also cold and the room feels too small and there's just enough light, off in the corner there, to glint off the Warden plate he wore for ten years -- and in the moment as he struggles out of the Fade's grip, it's all just a bit too much to bear.
He bundles up again. Steps cautiously from his quarters, to make his way toward Cullen's office. He veers off course at one point to search through some debris in the corner of a broken tower; when he moves on, he has a bent but still serviceable brazier in hand.
It's quiet once he gets there. Dark. Cullen isn't back.
Alistair could probably climb up the ladder, even half-inebriated. Climbing up while half-inebriated and carrying something on fire, though...not so much. Instead, he puts the brazier near the chaise before stealing a torch off the outside wall: once the brazier is lit and the torch returned, he curls up on the chaise in an effort to get back to sleep.
It's still cold, but not as cold. And at least he can see the stars if he tilts his head right.
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The room -- isn't swimming, exactly, but he still feels a little unsteady when he puts his feet on the floor, and more when he moves his head too much. He breathes, running through the automatic mantra: you're at Skyhold. You're safe.
And he's also cold and the room feels too small and there's just enough light, off in the corner there, to glint off the Warden plate he wore for ten years -- and in the moment as he struggles out of the Fade's grip, it's all just a bit too much to bear.
He bundles up again. Steps cautiously from his quarters, to make his way toward Cullen's office. He veers off course at one point to search through some debris in the corner of a broken tower; when he moves on, he has a bent but still serviceable brazier in hand.
It's quiet once he gets there. Dark. Cullen isn't back.
Alistair could probably climb up the ladder, even half-inebriated. Climbing up while half-inebriated and carrying something on fire, though...not so much. Instead, he puts the brazier near the chaise before stealing a torch off the outside wall: once the brazier is lit and the torch returned, he curls up on the chaise in an effort to get back to sleep.
It's still cold, but not as cold. And at least he can see the stars if he tilts his head right.
You're safe.
He drifts off.