So, here's the next one. I was goina wait till today to put it up anyway (it's my birthday!), but I actually just finished it. I hope you all enjoy...
67, 68, 69, up, down, up, down.
Alistair went through the motions; back straight, palms flat against the moist grass beneath him.
74, 75, 76.
His internal count continued, and his pace did not slow, despite the heavy chainmail weighing him down. This was a routine he was well use to; it had been drilled into him during his templar training – he had struggled to do 10 push ups with light chainmail on back then. He was only slightly embarrassed about it now.
81, 82, 83.
He ignored the sweat on his brow, and the ache in his arms; focusing solely on counting. Or he tried to at least. If working out in the morning was his daily routine, Hayley had one of her own; she would lean casually against the nearest object – be it a boulder, a tree, or Sten – and shamelessly watch him. She even kept count. It was only kind of really distracting.
Last night they had camped at the base of a small 20 foot cliff. The area was perfect; the cliff kept most of the wind off the tents – which were huddled together at its base – and the grassy ground had proved to be a nice layer between them and the hard earth. There was even a small stream nearby so he'd be able to wash up when he was done. They would definitely be staying here on their way back from Denerim.
94, 95, 95.
Keep going. Don't look up. Of course that caused him to take a quick peek at the object of his affections; Hayley was leaning casually against the side of the cliff, one arm crossed over the other and smirking whilst she silently mouthed along with his internal counting. Her brown hair was in its usual braid and her green eyes were looking mischievously from him to Zevran.
Ah, Zevran. 103, 104, 105. He almost forgot about him. Zevran had gotten into a routine of his own; he would lean just as casually beside Hayley, just as he was currently, and leer at him. His eyes said things that Alistair never wanted to hear. The only exception was when Hayley was forced to lean against Sten; he flat out refused to let the elf near him, and had swiftly stepped to the side – causing Zevran to fall – the first and only time he had tried.
"Zev, if you admire Alistair's technique so much, you could always join him." Hayley said, inclining her head in the elfs direction and offering him an innocent smile. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind going slow for you."
"In truth, dear Warden, it is not his technique I was admiring. However, if it is admirable technique you have been searching for, well then look no further! All you have to do is accompany me to my tent."
Hayley looked at him dryly, "How could I possibly refuse such a selfless and romantic offer? You're such a giver."
"Yes, yes. I know."Zevran replied, sighing dramatically; casually inspecting his nails, "I'm a hero really. I mean, to be cast such an ugly lot in life and then to rise above it. To seek out better, and nobler things. Some would say it's inspirational."
"Yes, quite true" Hayley replied, humouring him, "However, your heroism is slightly muted by the fact that you started out trying to kill us all, and your 'act of heroism' is actually just you trying to sleep with me."
"Ah, my dearest Warden, I would hold none of my many accomplishments higher in my heart, as I would that one."
Why did they have to discuss this when they were right beside him? Damn it, what number was he on? 158? 159? 160?
"As truly tempting as it sounds," she continued, "I think I'll pass this time. Maker knows what you might have picked up over the years."
Zevran brought one hand to his breast; feigning grave insult, "My dear lady, you wound me! I, your humble servant, offer to provide a service, and you hurt me so! I don't think I have been so insulted since Cucio accused me of having ill advised relations with a nug. It was all filthy lies of course - in fact it was a ploy to cover up his own relations with her." He paused to sigh sadly, "Poor Mrs Fantastico was never the same."
Alistair didn't have words for how messed up that was. Even Halyley didn't know what to say to that.
"I worry for your people Zevran, I really do," she replied after a lengthly pause.
"And by 'my people' you mean what, exactly? Antivans? Assassins? Or perhaps, you are referring to ridiculously handsome elves, with exotic accents, and a devilish wit?"
"Yes, all of the above, clearly. It's so nice to see you don't have a complex."
"Ah, my dear, going through life with such rugged good looks is no easy feat, I assure you. People are constantly vying for my attention, buying me shiny things, and trying to sleep with me. It's exhausting! If only the maker had thought to bless me, with a face as plain as Alistair's."
Heyyy, uncalled for. Did they realise he could hear them? And his face wasn't plain. Infact, he would go so far as to say he had a nice face. A kingly face even. Now if only he could pause for a minute and wipe the sweat and dirt off of it.
"Alistair's face is hardly plain. I happen to quite like it."
"A-ha! So, you like his face, do you. You are interested in our resident Templar? I knew there was a reason you wouldn't sleep with me, and here it is!"
"Let's not jump to conclusions, Zevran."
"I didn't jump. I took a tiny step and there conclusions were. I am quite the catch, I must say, and to turn this down," he said, running both of his hands down his torso, "must take enormous amounts of self control, not to mention, ungodly willpower. Gained perhaps, from the knowledge that you had another 'fish' as it were. One with manyly shoulders, and bulging biceps. It explains why you watch him with such passion, such longing-"
"And I am officially leaving this conversation." she replied as she pushed off the wall. "We hit the road again in an hour, so be ready. Oh, and Alistair, you just hit 200."
Well that's just typical, Alistair thought as he pushed himself up onto his feet, I want them to stop talking, and they have their conversation right beside my face, but as soon as I want to hear what she'd say, she has better things to do.
"Ahh, the things I could do to her." Zevran said wistfully, watching Hayley walk over to pack away her tent. At Alistair's indignant squawk, he continued, "Do not be jealous, mi amico. I would happily do them to you as well."
Well that was Alistairs que to run the hell away.
He coughed quickly into his fist, to try to hide the colour in his cheeks. "Yes, well. I'm just going to go and...yes. Over there."
"Or if you would prefer," Zevran continued hastily to Alistairs retreating form, "I could simply help you get out of that nasty chainmail, or wash the sweat from your- and now I am clearly talking to myself."
Soooo, good, bad, or simply meh?
Let me know what you think, even if it's just to offer up some constructive criticism or to point out a mistake.
Should have the next one up within the week, hopefully. No promises though...
-The Lieutenant Sarcasm
