Alistair fidgeted, shifting his weight about from foot to foot and watched hopelessly as the new recruit traipsed her way back to... wherever she'd arrived from. Duncan, assumedly.
Maker's Breath.
Alistair knew women like that existed - had caught glimpses of them from time to time, or heard tales of them - but had never truly expected to come face to face with one, let alone speak to one - to become the center of one's attention the way he just had.
Meredith Cousland. Wow.
He was, of course, vaguely aware that people were starting to stare at him, and he couldn't say that he blamed them - as far as he was aware he was doing exactly what he thought he was doing - standing around staring forlornly into the distance like a possessed lunatic. The shield on his back and the sword in it's sheath at his side were surely the only things preventing the onlookers from crossing the line and accussing him of allowing himself to be taken over by a demon.
If he squinted a little, actually, Alistair could still see her ponytail swishing along as she strode, taking those meaningful, bold, determined steps. The way she walked, Alistair got the feeling any crowd would part for her - and she'd grown up as a Cousland, a noble, daughter to the Arl of Highever, so it made sense for her to be that way. Meredith Cousland had only spoken to him for a few, fleeting minutes, but Alistair still knew her to be an indomitable force, a beacon of change that could conquer the world and flip it on it's axis if she put her mind to it.
And now she was going to become a Warden. Huh. That meant being bound to the same Order as he was forever. Until they died.
It seemed peculiar to think of her being capable of dying. She seemed so otherworldly.
Alistair had never really had a crush before. Not a palpable one - nothing to make idle gossip about or lose sleep over. Then again, Alistair had never been in good enough company until now. She was the first Wonder he was to see.
Now, what... exactly... was he meant to be doing? Duncan had given him a list, but unfortunately not a physical one, written down on a piece of parchment or anything where Alistair could refer back to it - Duncan was a man who preferred a list of the mind variety.
As the Junior recruit, Alistair hadn't really been relied on for much, and hadn't been handed too much responsibility, as of yet, but now that he had it...
It had all but flown right out of his mind, the moment he set his sights on Meredith Cousland. Damned beautiful woman with her striking eyes and powerful war dog.
Why couldn'the have a war dog? He deserved one, right?
Surely.
Hmmph.
He did.
It really was quite sad that Alistair was still stood there, still staring at the spot she'd disappeared from his sight from, and validating himself inside his own mind.