Alistair's mask--because they are wearing masks, not to do so at a gathering hosted by nobility who consider a bare face at gauche as a bare ass (if not more so, for its lack of tantalization) would be incredibly foolish--looks like a mabari. It's enough to make him consider not smashing it and burning the pieces as soon as they leave. Maybe he'll give it to Harding--who he did have a drink with, who he is trying very valiantly to like as anything more than a charming friend and source of anecdotes from home. One step forward every time she's funny, ten steps back every time Zevran presses against his side at night.
Anyway. Right now he's learning toward the smashing and burning. It itches. And he can't turn his back to the ballroom to rub his nose beneath it, because he's heard whispers of hands on Cullen's ass, and his is better. Lately. Now that he's been filled up on meat for a while. That leaves trying to rub his nose against the inside of the mask, mouth wiggling from the effort. It's not very sneaky. A good illustration of why he's stuck here instead of sneaking around the servants' quarters and royal wing with Zevran and the others.
That and being an oddity capable of distracting at least a handful of nobles wondering where the Inquisitor has gone. Veteran of the Fifth Blight! Alleged son of Maric the Savior, who they all consider very roguishly charming now that he's dead rather than actively defeating their army! When he's done smashing the mask he may jump out a window.
But for now: mouth wiggling. It stops abruptly when Zevran passes near enough for Alistair to step out of his safe corner and fall in beside him. He's capable of enough subtlety that he looks at the tiny spatter of blood on his shoulder but doesn't ask about it, or touch it, or do anything Concerned with his face that isn't obscured by the stupid mask.
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Date: 2016-07-11 11:08 pm (UTC)Alistair's mask--because they are wearing masks, not to do so at a gathering hosted by nobility who consider a bare face at gauche as a bare ass (if not more so, for its lack of tantalization) would be incredibly foolish--looks like a mabari. It's enough to make him consider not smashing it and burning the pieces as soon as they leave. Maybe he'll give it to Harding--who he did have a drink with, who he is trying very valiantly to like as anything more than a charming friend and source of anecdotes from home. One step forward every time she's funny, ten steps back every time Zevran presses against his side at night.
Anyway. Right now he's learning toward the smashing and burning. It itches. And he can't turn his back to the ballroom to rub his nose beneath it, because he's heard whispers of hands on Cullen's ass, and his is better. Lately. Now that he's been filled up on meat for a while. That leaves trying to rub his nose against the inside of the mask, mouth wiggling from the effort. It's not very sneaky. A good illustration of why he's stuck here instead of sneaking around the servants' quarters and royal wing with Zevran and the others.
That and being an oddity capable of distracting at least a handful of nobles wondering where the Inquisitor has gone. Veteran of the Fifth Blight! Alleged son of Maric the Savior, who they all consider very roguishly charming now that he's dead rather than actively defeating their army! When he's done smashing the mask he may jump out a window.
But for now: mouth wiggling. It stops abruptly when Zevran passes near enough for Alistair to step out of his safe corner and fall in beside him. He's capable of enough subtlety that he looks at the tiny spatter of blood on his shoulder but doesn't ask about it, or touch it, or do anything Concerned with his face that isn't obscured by the stupid mask.
"I saw Morrigan," he says instead.