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Date & Time: the day after her return from time-travel shenanigans
Location: ANYWHERE UGH THIS IS AN OPEN POST HAVE AT THEE specify a time and place or something.
Characters: Anora, whoever else decides to show aka OPEN
Summary: everyone's favourite queen is back from her trip through time. and of course she needs to do things so she doesn't sit around and mull about the fact that she had been high for the majority of that trip.
Warnings: um none as of now.

She was home.

Well, not home. This realm will never be her home, nor would it ever have the same comforts of Thedas. But, it was familiar-enough where, upon return, all she wanted to do was clean up and curl up in bed and she would feel perfectly fine doing so. She had not said a word to Alistair or Martin since she returned, not that she was particularly conversational with either of them to begin with. She had simply locked herself in the bathroom for two hours to scrub herself down in the bath and trim her hair.

But today was a new day. Her hair was back in its usual set of braids, her outfits were back to being tightly laced around her body. Her vision was clear and no longer bleary and distant, and she felt...relatively herself again.

She would spend today out and about, going to the library to pick up a new book or two, wandering the market place to pick up fresh food for the flat. She could even be found wandering the whole of the city, lingering by local theatres to see if there was anything of interest to be found, and pausing by establishments where a solid alcoholic drink or two could be found.

It wouldn't be until late when she'd return to her living quarters, and even then she wouldn't go to sleep until much later, choosing to curl up on the couch to read a book instead. She was tired, but at the same time her recent venture had caused her to grow even more restless. And unfortunately, she found there was never a happy medium to satiate both feelings.

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Alistair shrugged his shoulders and finished chewing on the piece of cheese he'd popped into his mouth. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd been expecting from Anora -- for all he knew, it could have only been a few days since she'd left this place for her where it had been months for him -- but she didn't seem as different as he'd been expecting her to be.

"I never got around to asking you where you ended up going. Are you in a sharing mood?"

Anora knew he was going to ask, but nevertheless she felt herself...flush at the question, her ears turning pink as she pointedly kept her nose in her book. There was a moment or two of what felt like awkward silence on her part (it's not like he knew what she did, after all) before she shifted a little in her seat and cleared her throat.

"No." It's followed by another turn of the page though she's no longer reading her book. "And it is not as though you would recognize either place even if I were in the mood to share."

"You know, I thought that as a Queen" who, he assumed, had made up a bunch of half-truths in order to keep herself in power after Maric's death, "you'd be delighted to talk about all the vastly important things that you did during your mission."

More to the point, he wasn't sure he wanted to mention the whole 'accidentally allowed people to worship me as a god' thing until he had heard whether Anora's little jaunt in time had gone just as strangely as his had.

Well, there were those half-truths...coupled with the fact that there was nobody to challenge her for the throne until some bastard child of Maric's meandered out of the woodwork. And of course Loghain sort of...took a bit of the reigns after Cailan's death.

She closed her book with a snap and it's dropped harshly on the side table next to the couch as she turned to finally look at him. "Then as King why don't you tell me what vastly important things you did. I am certain they're far more interesting."

Was that deflection? It might be.

Okay it was.

Unfortunately for Anora, the way she was acting just made Alistair all the more curious about what it was that she was hiding. He slid down onto the other side of the couch and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Only if you tell your stories. I asked first, so really -- it's only fair."

"There really is not much to tell, in all honesty."

She shifted again in her seat as he settled down on the couch, but made no motion to sit up properly. She looked away, tapping her fingers against the arm of the couch in an impatient manner.

"I barely remember."

Alistair leaned forward, squinting very slightly before proclaiming, "Ooh, you're lying! No, you are most definitely lying."

He grinned. "So that either means you did something that you don't want to admit because it was naughty, or you did something that was embarrassing."

"I assure you, I am not."

There was the urge to snap at him and tell him to shut up, but instead she continued to drum her fingers on the arm of the bed, staring at an unimportant spot on the wall of the living room. Her ears are noticeably pink again, likely out of annoyance.

"...don't you have food to put away or something?"

"It's not warm enough in here for anything to go bad in a matter of minutes." That's right, Alistair understands the basics of why food goes bad -- he's had a lot of food liquefy in his backpack.

"Is whatever happened while you were gone really so embarrassing?"

"Is it really of your concern?"

There's an exasperated sigh on her end, and she turned her head to look at him. "I'm not in the mood to talk about it. Not now, at least."

"I just find it a bit boring here when nobody in the household actually speaks to each other." Eventually he'll probably give up, but right now he still feels a little -- bad about the fact that they're married and apparently Anora is miserable. It isn't as if he ever wished her dead.

"We can talk about something else then if you are truly that bored. Honestly, with the way you're attempting to interrogate me you'd think you were--" She cut herself off, catching herself before she was going to make a mention of the late Warden.

As much as she had admired the young woman, the Warden always had a bit of a habit of...well...asking a lot of questions. Some had been warranted of course, for political reasons and whatnot, but some had delved into more personal matters.

"Or you could pick up a book from the library and read, I suppose."

"I'm a little surprised you assumed I could read, with all that time I spent in the barn in Redcliffe." Not bringing up the Warden was definitely the right move, excellent job. He just shrugged, pushing up off the edge of the couch.

"I'll save that for when I'm trying to lull myself into a sleep, thanks." That was actually completely inaccurate -- Alistair did enjoy reading, and had actually been planning to study up on diplomacy before they'd been transported to this world, so that he didn't completely ruin their entire country. Anora didn't need to know that, though.

"And following the barn you were a Chantry boy. I would assume they taught would-be templars how to read." She responded with her own shrug, going back to pick up her book, thumbing through to find where she left off.

Her eyes skim over a few lines before she continued on entirely different train of thought.

"Feel free to fetch me something to eat while you're up." Either she was genuinely hungry, or it was a clever tactic to get him away from her.

"Of course. Miles upon miles of scripture, all about the wonders of Andraste." It hadn't been the worst thing, being in training, but it was still not exactly what he'd -- had in mind for his life.

He raised another eyebrow at her.

"My food, or your food?" Because his food consisted mostly of cheese and apples, honestly.

"One could only imagine." It's laced with sarcasm.

There's a thoughtful hum as her lips draw into a line. Why on earth would she want his food?

"Mine, of course. Maker only knows what you went ahead and bought. I put my groceries away already, I am certain you will know which are mine."

"And what is it that you want, exactly?" He was rummaging in the fridge as he spoke, though, already rooting around for what classified as 'Anora's' food.

He actually wasn't even sure if Martin had food in their fridge or not. He'd have to ask the boy about that.

"Nothing in particular" She called out, remaining on the couch as he rummaged about. A strand of hair had loosened itself from her braids, and she was fiddling with it as she read.

"Something small, perhaps. It is rather late."

And she's not a Grey Warden who has to stuff her face 24/7.

Whatever Anora, you wish you could have this body while stuffing it with calories constantly.

"Fine, fine." He comes back with one of those little cottage cheese and mixed berry-compote cups, and a spoon...and an apple slathered in peanut butter for himself.

Whatever Alistair so what if she does. She likes being thing and shapely, thank-you-very-much. It's not her fault women not tainted with darkspawn blood or whatever have to actually watch their figure.

She takes her dainty little cup and spoon and sets her in her lap because she gave up on reading as soon as Alistair walked through the door.

A pause, and then, since she was raised with manners, "Thank you."

And following that? Nothing. Because she still didn't want to talk about what went on during her trip.

"You're welcome." He takes a large bite of the apple and munches on it thoughtfully (and noisily). He won't drop back down onto the couch just now, because if he gets peanut butter on it he knows he'll catch it -- so instead, he leans against the nearest wall.

He's more or less resigned himself to not actually talking about whatever happened to Anora -- at least tonight. Maybe he'll try again another time.

There's a few minutes of silence as she eats, and having grown used to noisy eaters (Cailan was one, and she had been living with Alistair for what...a few months now?) she doesn't even say anything. It's normal for her, sharing silence with someone in the room, so when she finally opens her mouth to speak, it's of a polished, idle nature.

"So, where did they wind up placing you?" She stirs her food a little, "Somewhere off-the-mark, I would presume."

"Did anyone actually end up where they were supposed to be?" He had assumed so, since the mysterious sicknesses had seemed to come to an end and the people were suddenly much nicer to their kind ... but he didn't know of anyone who'd actually said that they'd been the ones to complete the mission.

She holds her spoon in her mouth thoughtfully, musing on Alistair's observation.

"You know..." she removes the spoon and scrapes the bottom of her cup, finishing before she continues, "I don't believe anyone did. As far as I have heard, at least." Which wasn't much.

"This Initiative truly lacks organization."

"It turns out that their science isn't exact." He doesn't sound surprised in the least.

"And yes. I'm sure they'd love for you to offer them your services."