#donotswoop

"I am not normally a fan of such mundane devices." He said, casually flipping the knife in his fingers as though attempting to puzzle out why anyone would prefer such a weapon.

The thing wearing Anders’s face spoke with a stuff enunciation that would have given him away even if Alistair had not already been warned of his presence within his friend’s body. Something about the obviously foreign speech coming from a face he trusted so completely made the entire situation that much more disturbing. Not that there was anything comforting about being tied to a chair and menaced with sharp implements, at least not when women on tight leather weren’t involved. 

"You could always not use it." Alistair offered, grinning sheepishly at the other body as it paced around his chair. "If it’s so confusing to you, I mean."

"Confusing?" The spirit chuckled, the sound strange and echoey as it bounced around the empty warehouse. "What’s confusing sharp metal against soft skin? I see how it’s effective, it just seems so… dull" 

Alistair couldn’t help but laugh at that, though he knew the spirit had no concept of having used the terrible pun his friend would have thought so wonderfully bad. “It’s funny because it’s a blade and you called it dull… because… Well, it’s a blade and they’re not supposed to be…”

"Mm." The spirit was unimpressed, and the expression he’d formed on Anders’s face was somewhere between bored and mild annoyance. "You’re an idiot."

"Some people find idiots endearing." Alistair countered, tilting up his chin.

"Those people are also idiots."

Alistair started to complain about the entities sense of humor, but it appeared he’d had enough. The sound of his snoring sounded soon after.

8. Your muse is dead and haunting mine.

"You should buy her the one on the right."

Alistair jumped, a high pitched shriek leaving his mouth before he could stop it, drawing the eye of the woman working the counter at the jewelry store. He cleared his throat, cheeks coloring red as he nodded and waited for her to turn before whispering. “Please stop sneaking up on me like that.”

"It’s only a problem because you insist on screaming like a woman every time that I do it." The other man chuckled, his laughter increasing when Alistair cringed when he passed directly through the jewelry case in front of him.

"I did no—that was a very manly scream." The former warden insisted, though he knew the combination of the the words ‘manly’ and ‘scream’ contradicted his assertion. "What are you even doing here?"

"Bored." The mage shrugged, moving around to Alistair’s other side to have a closer look at the ring he had apparently already chosen.

Alistair shook his head. “How did I end up being your prime afterlife destination?”

"Just lucky, I guess."

 In that moment Alistair had never felt less like that statement was true.

19. My muse is the next Doctor, and yours is their companion.

Alistair emerged from the back of the Tardis in a pair of shredded jeans, worn combat boots, and a fitted black sweater that appeared to be held together mostly by safety pins. Anders, however, looked exactly the same; long, black trench coat over a nearly pressed though casually worn suit, the kalideoscope colored scarf slung carelessly over his shoulder. His smile —as usual— enigmatic.

"Why do you always get to dress the same while I end up in these ridiculous getups?" Alistair groused as he tugged at the over-gelled spikes of his hair.

"Because I have the panache to pull it off." Anders snorted, poking and prodding at the knobs and buttons near the time machine’s main display monitor. "You might as well be flashing a  neon sign that says ‘hello, stranger from another time, come and wisk me away for horrible probing experiments’!" 

"Always with the probing!" Alistair hissed, pacing toward the monitor himself. "I think it’s you wearing that neon sign."

Anders waggled his eyebrows, a sly grin cutting across his face. “Sometimes a man can do with a good probing.”

The warrior cringed, brow furrowing further when the other burst into laughter as a result. “I don’t know what I was thinking coming with you.”

"You were thinking you might do something with the time you had left other than wasting away in that dank little bar singing showtunes while avoiding your legacy." Anders offered the answer easily, expression softening when he finally looked at his companion. "I can take you back anytime you’d like if that is the life you’d prefer."

Alistair looked thoughtful for a moment, his mind drifting back to the life he’d left behind —such that it was— and one woman in particular. The one who’d vanished from Kirkwall following the uprising never to be seen again. No, it was better here. That life was over. With a sigh, he shook his head and stepped toward the door. “Shall I have a look, then?”

"Absolutely." The Doctor gave the answer with a far more genuine smile, watching as the young man stepped out into another city and another time.

25. It’s my muse’s wedding day —— to the wrong person. Your muse tries to stop it.

"Are you sure about this?" Anders sat in the long, padded windowsill of the grooms chamber within the Fereldan Chantry, tossing an apple casually back and forth between his hands.

Alistair sighed, tugging at his tie again. The thing would never lie straight. “Doesn’t matter. It’s what has to be done.”

"You never struck me as the martyring type." Anders snorted, shaking his head. "In fact, you struck me as the run screaming in the opposite direction of obligation type."

Alistair sighed, eyes rolling at the other man’s reflection in the mirror. “Fereldan can’t keep going without a king, Anders. Not with all the other turmoil. Elissa is barely holding the council together after the debacle with Howe.” 

"Fereldan has a queen, you know." Anders shrugged when Alistair looked up at him. "Just saying."

"A queen half the country won’t listen to since it turns out dear old dad conspired with a murderous traitor who tried to wipe an entire family out of existence." He looked up again in the mirror, muscles in his jaw tensing. 

Anders’s brow furrowed in confusion. “So you’re doing this for Elissa? That ship has sailed, friend. And even if it hadn’t, marrying another woman is a pretty strange way to prove your love to her.”

"I do not love Elissa." Alistair insisted, shaking his head when the mage shot him a look that may as well have called bullshit out loud. "I mean, I love her, but I’m not in love with her. I stopped feeling that way about her the moment I realized our chance had passed. This isn’t about Elissa, though I do hope that he benefits from my decision. What happened to her is nothing short of horrific."

"Then why are you doing this?" 

For a few minutes Alistair didn’t answer, simply standing and continuing to fidget with his tie. “Because Cailan asked me to.” He said finally.

"Cailan? Your half-brother you barely knew." Anders looked a mixture of appalled and offended. "You do realize he’s dead, right? That renders any royal requests nil." When Alistair didn’t answer he shook his head and stood. "Cousland is a senator and you’re about to take the throne all at the behest of a man you hardly knew and owe less than nothing. I will never understand you."

"Some people have a sense of duty—"

"Some people have a sense of duty so misguided it blinds them to reality." Anders snorted, pacing over to the door. "Until you realize that the only path to follow is the one you set, you’re always going to end up back in that bar drinking to forget how miserable you are."