AN: I don't really know how this happened. It's just ridiculous, so there's your warning.
I blame the swooping_is_bad livejournal, where I creepily lurk. There was a screenshot posted there and, well, go find it yourself if you want. For the purpose of this fic, just imagine one of those Quest Exclamation Mark things, like over Levi Dryden's head.
Also, the PC is named Elissa, but she's not necessarily Cousland. I just stuck it in because I didn't want to dick around to avoid using a name. I was watching hockey. Buh-bam.
When Alistair had peeked out of his tent looking sweaty and nervous, glancing around with wild eyes before motioning desperately for her to come over, Elissa had been a little intrigued. Maybe a little excited.
But no, she knew his I-need-you-right-now look, and that hadn't been it.
Frowning, she hauled herself to her feet and trotted over, slipping inside the familiar tent.
Uh, well. That was… new.
She knew she was gaping, and that Alistair's obvious and understandable concern wasn't something to take lightly, but… uh. "What is that?"
Sitting sprawled across the bedrolls, knees held wide apart, Alistair worried his lip with his teeth. "I don't know," he hissed, fluttering one hand in the general direction of his codpiece. The strange, brightly glowing shape did not falter, floating less than a finger's width away from his body.
Elissa moved cautiously forward, crouching almost defensively, but Alistair started shaking his head. Quietly, as if he feared the… thing would hear him, Alistair spoke through his clenched jaw. "Wait— I don't, I mean— don't touch it."
"Is it some kind of magic?" She shuffled a little closer, and Alistair whimpered. "Does it hurt?"
"No." Forcing her eyes away from the mysterious light, Elissa sent him the most reassuring, calming stare she could. He did not look reassured, or calm. He looked terrified. "It just feels, um, insistent."
"Insistent? Like— oh. Oh." He was nodding furiously now, the sweat actually dripping from his brow. "But you don't want me to touch it?"
"Maker, no— what if it is magic? What if it does something strange? What if it hurts one of us?" His knuckles were white as he gripped his knees and wrenched his thighs even farther apart, and he'd started shifting painfully. "Do you think— do you think you could get Wynne? Please?"
"Um." Swallowing thickly at the thought of explaining this to their grandmotherly companion, Elissa started creeping towards the tent flap, never turning her back on the thing. "All right. Yes, I'll… get Wynne. Right away."
Alistair released one long, shuddering breath, and forced a strained smile. "Oh, oh thank you."