Alison never took the time to appreciate the stars like this. The lights shimmering in the black sky like individual fires. Pure and high. Is that were the Maker lives? The warrior always asked herself that question, considering she never actually payed attention to the Mothers chants. But even so, with everything that happened thus far, Alison wished she had paid better attention to the chants, that way the brunette would better imagine how her family, Duncan, and even how the King are in that world with the Maker.
A bark was heard back at the camp before footsteps approached from behind. The brunette didn’t bother to turn, expecting it to be her Mabari, Grunt. “Not yet Grunt, I’m busy.”
“Busy with your head in the clouds?” Turning in shock, Alison relaxed a smirk at Alistair, who took a seat next to the young woman on the log. “Well not literally, but you know what I mean. Maker that would be a sight, you floating in the sky.”
Chuckling, the brash warrior leaned back, welcoming his interruption. “Yes, but then who would help you poor sods battle the darkspawn?”
Smirking, Alistair rose a brow, amused. “Touché.” Falling into silence, Alistair just stared at Alison’s face, tracing the curved golden tattoo with his eyes as the young woman looked up at the sky with a serious expression she reserved for professionalism; usually he’d see Alison’s challenging smirk, her bright grin when they’re training, but this sad expression. “What are you thinking about?”
Without any hesitation, the hazel eyed woman answered. “Do they think about us? The dead I mean. Do they think about us as often as we think about them?”
The young Warden was about to question where this came from until he saw Alison shift and bring something to her lips. Sighing, Alistair took the ale from the drunk woman’s hands and sniffed the opening, wincing away from the strong sent. “Maker, what is this?!”
Alison shrugged, swaying slightly and gripped tighter to the seemingly spinning log. “Oh that. Stein gave it to me. Apparently it’s a really strong ale from his land, though I had like one other bottle and didn’t really feel anything. He gave me another as a prize.” Looking back up, Alison sighed, placing her head on Alistair’s shoulder, the blonde stuttering a response. “Is it just me or is the sky spinning?”
Chuckling, Alistair stood careful to keep the woman up. The alcohol must finally be settling, he figured to himself. Still smirking, Alistair couldn’t help but thank the Maker that she was a philosophical drunk rather than an angry drunk. Moving to put one of Alison’s arm around his neck Alistair began to stand. “Come on, let us get back to camp.”
“No!!” Alison whined, using her strength to pull Alistair down on top of her, the male landing on the woman’s armor clad chest.
Stock still, Alistair dared to not move, instead his mind spinning on the fact that if it wasn’t for Alison’s paranoia, his face would in fact be planted in your bosoms. What size are they any—No, no! Go away impure thoughts, now is not the time. “Y-um…” He gave an uncomfortable laugh. “What would the others say if they saw us like this?”
“You think I care?” Alison shouted back, giving the blonde laying on her a light hit to the head.
Alistair smirked, expecting no less from the spirited woman. Even when drunk, she was still her brash, uncaring self.
“… Unless you care.” The woman voiced hesitantly, removing her arm from Alistair who sat up in confusion. “Then fine.” Standing, she swayed with a sigh, planting a hand on her hip. “Let’s go back to camp.”
Groaning at the woman’s vulnerable state and emotion she rarely shown around the others, Alistair smiled, grabbing Alison’s hand and gently pulling her down so she was placed between his legs, looking up at the stars. “No, I just mean it’d be better if we sat together like this.”
Looking up at him with a blush, Alison poked his cheeks. “You’re one smooth talker sometimes, you know that? But the rest of the time, you’re this blubbering idiot that runs his mouth a mile a minute.”
“Thanks…” Alistair struggled to get out. Honestly, he couldn’t help but wonder what drawn him to her, but here he was. With a beautiful blunt woman…
Sighing you rested your head against his chest, your hair tickling his neck as you slouched against him, vision blurring. “But… I guess that’s one of the reasons I love you.”
… A beautiful blunt woman who carefully passes compliments when needed and does her best to do what’s right, no matter the cost. Oh. That’s why…
Alistair was silent for roughly five minutes, letting her words sink in. Love? As in love love? Well, what other love could she mean? Brain going faster than a sprinting Mabari hound, the blonde stuttered. “U-um, Alison… Uh, by love do you mean… Alison?” Getting no response at all, Alistair shifted over to see the woman in question sporting a peaceful sleeping face, lightly snoring. Smiling Alistair brushed a stray strand of brown locks from her face. “Well… Guess I could ask you about it later.”