What? They haven't lived until they've tasted Ferelden cooking. Or tried to taste it. You can't really taste the tasteless. But you can make an effort, for the story.
[ He knows. He doesn't see what the fuss is about—food is food, and he would rather eat gray-brown slop than anything that makes him wheeze and cry, food is not supposed to make you cry—but he does know. ]
Efficient, conspicuous, and possessed. [ And Zevran's death toll doesn't sit well with Alistair, either, all banter aside. It's a thing he sets aside, doesn't think about, makes excuses for—love is hypocritical. He feels discomfited and then he feels like a jerk for being discomfited. He turns his head to talk against Zevran's temple in unspoken apology for unspoken feelings. ] And you're more likable.
no subject
[ He knows. He doesn't see what the fuss is about—food is food, and he would rather eat gray-brown slop than anything that makes him wheeze and cry, food is not supposed to make you cry—but he does know. ]
Efficient, conspicuous, and possessed. [ And Zevran's death toll doesn't sit well with Alistair, either, all banter aside. It's a thing he sets aside, doesn't think about, makes excuses for—love is hypocritical. He feels discomfited and then he feels like a jerk for being discomfited. He turns his head to talk against Zevran's temple in unspoken apology for unspoken feelings. ] And you're more likable.