[video]

[inquisitor_lavellan]

[ Heeeeere's Alley! In all her scarred, broken-nosed, hatchet-faced glory, giving the camera a look that's somewhere between exasperated and just... tired.

Just so fucking tired. ]

This world is determined to have me here, it seems.

[ Her jaw clenches just slightly for a moment, and then Alley composes herself better. Expression? Flat. The tiredness is only there if you're really looking for it, now. ]

I've already tried Dorian and Cole's numbers, I know they're gone. Anyone else I should give a shit about?

Comments

voice

[feckinboomstick]

Didn't think they made interdimensional bungee ropes.

Ye ain't got no lick of luck, do ye?

switched to voice too

[inquisitor_lavellan]

Pretty sure a lack of luck is part of my job description. Or at least being dragged into shit whether I like it or not.

[feckinboomstick]

You should write a formal complaint so the next time we what get overrun by spirits, ye can lodge it officially.

In one of their spectral skulls.

[inquisitor_lavellan]

To be honest, that time the barriers went down and the sky rained angry spirits?

Only time this place has made any sense to me.

[feckinboomstick]

I'll say a prayer for ye an' your sanity before bed tonight.

Speakin' of your sanity, how badly ye in need of a drink? Considerin' it's round three now?

[inquisitor_lavellan]

Badly.

[ Not the best coping mechanism, but without any marauding high dragons to hunt, or dire world-shaking quests to accomplish, she's fresh out of her usual.

Honestly, Alleyana has done far more drinking on this world than in the sum of her time on Thedas. ]

Are you offering?

[feckinboomstick]

'Course I am. Tis been far too quiet an evenin' and a week for me, I'll go mad if I must tolerate another second of sobriety and boredom.

[inquisitor_lavellan]

[ A creak of leather as Alley adjusts her grip on the phone, perhaps on the move now. ]

Where to? Your house? Do you even have enough booze there?

[ CHALLENGE ISSUED. ]

[feckinboomstick]

Ye gonna come over an' have a drink or ye gonna stand there in the middle of town, dry and questionin' me stores?

[inquisitor_lavellan]

I can question your stores while I walk.

[ That rough-as-gravel voice of hers takes on a tinge of amusement. ]

It's called multitasking.

[feckinboomstick]

Well multitask your way to me subgate, I'll open the cellar for ye, Doubtin' Thomas.

[inquisitor_lavellan]

...Who's doubting thomas?

[feckinboomstick]

You, currently.

[It's a transient moniker]

1/2

[inquisitor_lavellan]

You know what? I'll accept that since you're providing the booze.

[ Diplomacy! ]

2/2 aaaaaand action! (prose)

[inquisitor_lavellan]

Alleyana was used to marching long distances, and it didn't take her too long to cross half of Genessia City and however much of Everglade it took to get to the priest's subarchway. No need for directions or a map; she'd been here twice before and that was plenty for the Inquisitor.

Thus, sometime later, there came a sharp rapping at Cassian's door!

[feckinboomstick]

AAAND door open!

He looks just the same as he did when she'd left. Of course, not nearly enough time had passed for him to appear terribly changed.

Maybe a bit more color on his face than usual thanks to somewhat improved air flow, but otherwise. Same.

"Right snappy, aren't ye? Come in, get your boots off at the door. I've got enough trouble keepin' the place clean with Tannusen's little beasts trackin' dirt everywhere."

[inquisitor_lavellan]

Alley pauses like she's considering telling Cassian her armored boots are just fine where they are, then sighs and bends down to start undoing buckles with the sharp tips of her left gauntlet.

The fake hand is the only one with the precision to get this done in anything approaching a timely manner, after all.

"This had better be a good booze stash. Unlike the other Dalish, I'm not a fan of frolicking around in my socks."

Not that the Dalish... you know, bother with socks either.

[feckinboomstick]

"It's shoes off at the door or ye drink outside on the stoop, this house has rules, mate."

It's a bear to clean this entire place up, okay? He doesn't want to harass Tannusen into doing it, the guy does enough work around the place.

[inquisitor_lavellan]

"I'm working on it," there goes a strap!

...Only three more to get to.

"This is still a lot faster than before Dorian made me a new arm."

[feckinboomstick]

He wasn't about to ask her if she needed help.

He knew better than that. Instead, he moved for the cellar door.

"D'ye want me to pick a few bottles out for ye?"

[inquisitor_lavellan]

"--Yeah, sure," tactical retreat acknowledged and condoned. Away with you, witness!

Second strap! And Alley takes a moment to set her heavy shield off to the side before attempting to one-leg it long enough to get the thigh-high and folded over dragonhide boot off her leg, the dragonbone plates over the foot and up the shin to the knee clunking on the floor accordingly as the whole thing begrudgingly comes loose.

One more boot to go... from scratch.

Yeah, this is going to take a minute here.

Tanks don't un-tank quickly, not even their shoes.

[feckinboomstick]

And off he went! To get some alcohol and give her some goddamn privacy as she worked on her boots.

At the very least, she could expect not to see him until she was, or at least was almost done, having thumped back up the stairs with several single bottles... and what clearly appeared to be a large, humanoid mummified head.

... That... that doesn't look like booze, Cassian.

[inquisitor_lavellan]

Oh good, now Alley regrets not having said 'go ahead' because of that damn pun. Not that that shows on her face. Nor would it have even if she'd made the pun aloud.

Instead, while completely deadpan, "I'm not drinking that."

[feckinboomstick]

CHANCE GONE FOREVER, PUN IS LOST.

He snorts, setting down the bottles and moving to work his fingers under a barely visible seam in the mummy's forehead.

"Your loss, tis where I store the strong drink. No one goes lookin' in here."

Less to keep Tannusen out, the man didn't ever bother with his drinks unless he was drinking to avoid something.

But he'd dealt with thieves before.

[inquisitor_lavellan]

If Alley was supposed to be shocked at this, well, she wasn't. The Inquisitor made her way over in her socks, which were hilariously colorful and chaotically striped affairs, peering at the head as Cass went about opening it.

"...Huh. Next best thing to a good vault, I take it."

[feckinboomstick]

Yep, there was a hinge, hidden under wraps and hair, and the lack of a creak suggested it saw a lot of recent use, as he hefted out yet another bottle.

"I was going to share this with Dorian, before he left us.

'Tis bourbon that's been aged within a bog."

[inquisitor_lavellan]

Alleyana cocked her head to one side a bit. "I've scrounged bottles of booze out of weirder places back on Thedas, but I'm not a booze expert. Why a bog?"

[feckinboomstick]

"Lends it a deeper taste. Earthy, I suppose would be a good term for it." As obvious as that sounded, it was true.

He went to pour himself a shallow glass.

"Tis a distinct taste, one I've found rather appealing.

I wanted to share it with Dorian cos he's such a grand fan o' bogs and I wanted to spread the joy around."

[inquisitor_lavellan]

"Well, I do have the bog unicorn, does that count for anything?"

[feckinboomstick]

"Counts for plenty, what a lovely creature he is too.

Which of these would ye like, Alley? Ye prefer ice with your drinks or straight?"

[inquisitor_lavellan]

"I suppose I ought to stand in for Dorian," the Inquisitor sighed, glancing away. "It's like this back on Thedas, too; everyone's scattered now."