So... You Live Here?

Oh. Oh! She wasn’t griping at him like this was bad. Or like that mean Morrigan. Daciana was… serious. That was nice. She was nice. Well, sometimes. I guess I’ve just never found a use for politics when, from what I’ve seen, it’s a fancier way for people to play games. They don’t necessarily suffer… unless you were Orlesian. Or Antivan. Or… oh. Elanna’s family. I was going to say that the nobility doesn’t usually suffer but that’s not true either. Anyway, ‘politics’ in Ferelden or Orlais, or Antiva… even in the Free Marches, to me, is another word for people like to throw around when all they’re really doing is toying with lives that don’t belong to them.

He wasn’t even going to touch Kirkwall.

Alastair smiled a little over at her. You say refreshing like it’s a good thing. Most people would say it’s not, that I’m too slow or just flat out bad at politics. He shrugged, the water in the buckets sloshing a bit at the sudden movement. It felt good to be doing something, even as he moved slower than he’d liked. He still hurt in… too many places, but at least he could walk. That was good. And believe me, I’m so Ferelden it hurts. Isn’t that what most people think of when they think of Ferelden anyway? Someone not that great with politics or quick, savvy thinking?

Here he shrugged again. He just didn’t see a point to it. Oh, the irony. The Maker had to have a good reason for that one.

If being political was communing with spirits, I think I could get politically savvy then. At least spirits are straightforward in what they are. People… people aren’t. He snorted, lumbering after her, already out of breath by the time they made it to the front door. Did I flunk out of politics. Yeah. Yeah, you could say that. He’d been King. And now… now he didn’t know what he was, except alive. It wasn’t so bad, really, except for still caring about what happened to Ferelden. And the Grey Wardens…

Could she sense the Taint? Do you sense anything that feels different about me? he asked as casually as he could.