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[ The feed eventually shutters to life and it's pointing at the ceiling. It's a mostly nondescript ceiling, please enjoy it for being pleasantly neutral. Because it's going to be ruined in less than ten seconds.

Carver's face pops into the view and he stares at the device like it's some unholy abomination that just tinkled on his favorite shirt. It's clear he's in a terrible sort of mood—but when is he not?—by the harsh line of his brows and the curl of his mouth. While he doesn't have his full plate armor on, he still wears the blue and silver of the Grey Wardens. ]

So, apparently this sodding thing is supposed to let me talk to other people. [ Here he is. Doing just that. ] I'm—

[ He stops, sighs through his nose then rubs the side of his head. Does he introduce himself? Maybe. Ugh. ]

My name is Carver Hawke and I have a request and don't really know where to start. I'm looking for books. [ The harsh lines of his expression soften to the slightest degree for a brief moment. ] Easy ones. Ones that kids can read. Don't know what is considered that here, so.

[ He lifts a shoulder in a shrug as if that will explain the rest of the request so he doesn't need to. Basically, he needs pointing in the right direction with titles and maybe even large print.

Off-screen there is a small scuffling noise and it's followed soon by a little yappy sort of bark. There's a fun, bright usage of several even more fun curses before Carver disappears for a second. The video shakes as he picks up the device to hold at arms length. In his other hand is this abomination of a dog. It wriggles in his hand and that only seems to irritate him further. ]

And what in the Maker's name is this bloody thing? It's like some horrible Orlesian dog some sod would wear on their hat. What good are these wardrobes if this is what I get instead of a mabari?

[ The puppy happily licks Carver's nose and he grunts in disgust before putting it down and returning to the device. It seems he wants to say something more, but he isn't sure how. Clearly annoyed—and mostly with himself—he frowns all over again then just shuts the feed off. ]

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[Oh he knows that uniform! And has heard the name Hawke before. With a different name attached but it's a start. And more importantly, there's another Warden here! Another Ferelden Warden - presumably recruited by the new Warden-Commander in the aftermath of the Blight, like Anders.

Alistair smirks as he appears on the screen of the device, barely holding back laughter at Carver's disgust. He should welcome the new Warden, but first there's something very important he needs to say.]

Who in their right mind would wear a dog on their hat? Even Orlesians couldn't be that dumb. [What would they do if it needed to relieve itself?

Oh, right. He should probably talk about serious matters or what Carver was actually asking about.]

The closets are useless. I keep trying to get a griffon from mine and it gives me everything but.

[That's important to know, right? He is a Warden, he should care about that.]

[ Now this is more what he was hoping for. The voice rings true and for the first time today a small smile begins to work its way onto Carver's mouth. Thank the Maker for small mercies.

So, of course, when he actually looks, he can already see something seems amiss. But, he's going to pretend it's not and that it's all fine. After all, it's not like he's acting as if he doesn't know Carver... That's got to be something. Doesn't it? ]

They're Orlesians. Of course they can be that dumb.

[ Come on. ]

I hadn't even thought of that... [ He glances over his shoulder toward the wardrobe and frowns at it. ] Though if this is what I get for a dog, I don't think I'd attempt.

[ There's a brief pause while he argues within himself if he should say anything or not, then just blurts it out in true Carver fashion. ]

I'm glad to see you here. I didn't think I'd recognize anyone else.

[That's fair. And prompts a snort of laughter on both accounts.]

Good point.

[Although he's still tempted to encourage Carver to try for a griffon. Just to see what happens. Except the other man is talking and- Ah. Well of course. Alistair doesn't even blink at the unfamiliar new Warden knowing him. Of course Carver knows who he is. He's beginning to suspect everyone from Thedas knows who he is. The crazy mansion certainly has done nothing to disabuse him of the notion.

He nods and smiles cheerfully at the other Warden in response.]

Here I am! Here to be... recognisable. Yes. I'm good at that. I think it's my rugged good looks. I'm not so good at the other way around though, if you get my meaning. Which is that I don't know who you are. Not personally.... Sorry.

[It's not like he wouldn't be happy to see another Warden he actually knows. Or certain Wardens he actually knows. Not all of them but some. Instead it's just everyone else knowing him while he's stuck feeling like he wandered into his long-lost identical twin's party.]

But I'm glad to meet a fellow Warden?

[Does that help any?]

[ It's instantaneous how his expression goes from moderately pleasant to crestfallen. Carver's never been good at hiding his emotions (except all the nice ones, those are usually hidden behind a toxic cloud of manbaby). But, he wears disappointment like a particularly nice, worn leather glove. It fits him as it's been something that's all too often been displayed. This isn't fair. Logically, he knows it shouldn't bother him, but... it does.

The amount of people he holds in regard and has respect for is a very shallow pool. Since he's met Alistair, he's definitely been one of them. He's enjoyed following his lead, enjoyed fighting beside him, and enjoyed the fact that someone like Alistair was almost king of his homeland.

He supposes it was stupid of him to expect anything good to come out of this place. ]

You don't know me. [ He repeats it so blandly that it may as well be just the doughy inside of bread. ] Of course you bloody don't.

[ Carver's head drops down on his arm and he groans as if he's half his age and on the verge of pitching a fit. After a moment he straightens and rubs a hand over his forehead. ]

I... [ he sighs ] We traveled together, for a time. In Kirkwall when the qunari rebelled. Not... that we were there for that specifically, but it happened while we were there.

[Oh. Oh, wow. He feels pretty awful now. It's not as though he deliberately doesn't recognise Carver but that doesn't make him feel less bad about upsetting the man. Alistair winces, fishing around desperately for something he can say that might lessen the sting.]

Um. Sorry. [That's really not going to do it. But he does sound genuinely apologetic as he watches Carver's reaction. He can understand being bothered by it - finding yourself kidnapped to some strange place that makes no sense without even a clue how you got there is exactly the kind of situation where a friendly face is what you need. And then if that friendly face doesn't know you? Well it would upset anyone.] I wish I did remember you.

[And not just because he feels guilty for not doing so.]

I've never been outside of Ferelden. And I'm still waiting for the archdemon to not be a problem any more. [Yes, he's still stuck back in the Blight while everyone else seems to think that it's old news. At this point he'd prefer to have seen the end of it. It would be better than just hearing it's over all the time.]

What were we doing in Kirkwall? [Since, yes, Qunari attacks generally don't fall under Warden purview and with the Blight over there really shouldn't have been darkspawn lurking around the Free Marches.]

[ He waves off the apology because ultimately it's meaningless. It's not Alistair's fault. And this time it's not even Carver's fault which is a miracle unto itself. Though, he doesn't really buy the wishing he knew him, even though it's likely true considering the Alistair he knows. He's a truthful, honest and honorable man. Maybe this one is no different.

Navigating this conversation is going to take a delicate touch and Carver expressly does not have that. Point of fact: he opens his mouth to respond, makes only a noise of frustration, then rubs his face as if that's going to help. (It doesn't.) ]

The Blight is over. It has been for almost eleven years. The Hero of Ferelden slayed the archdemon and died doing so. In the time we've known each other, you've travelled well out of Ferelden. The Free Marches, Orlais, [ he makes a noise again, eyes slipping off to the side, ] the, erm, Fade. [ His hands fall to clasp in front of him, brows knitting together and looking annoyed. ] The Inquisitor exiled the Wardens from Orlais in all his arrogant benevolent "glory," so the trip was made to Weisshaupt.

[ That's it in a nutshell. There's more to the story but that's the quickest way he could get to the ending without dithering on pointless dramatic points. ]

We were in Kirkwall because... [ Does he say why? Alistair was the lead in that expedition, so he'll know in time. He can't imagine that changing in various worlds. ] Um. Well, let's just say it was a problem bigger than anyone expected.

[A faint smile creeps back onto Alistair's face at Carver's obvious frustration. He's no stranger to struggling to find a way to put something into words and he can appreciate the difficulties the other man is having. It's a strange thing to face from either side, the differences in whens they all have.

He hasn't heard a whole lot about the end of the Blight besides the fact that the archdemon is defeated and slain and that he himself survives that battle. And there's been hints that something might have happened with the order by the Inquisition's time but all of this? It comes as a bit of a surprise, to say the least.]

I- Wait, hang on! [Holding a hand up to try and forestall any further unexpected news Alistair unconsciously mimics Carver, scrubbing at his face as he collects his thoughts.] This is a lot to take in.

[To put it mildly. He's not sure where to even start. Compared to everything else, his own supposed travels over the years, including visiting Kirkwall with a group of Wardens, fade to irrelevance. Those pointless dramatic points suddenly feel a lot more important than anything else.]

Who was the Hero of Ferelden? [It says a lot about his life right now that he has to ask that question. And the next one.] And who is the Inquisitor? And why would they exile the Wardens from Orlais? And- [No, no. He should slow down. Or just ask for Carver's life story, either will do at this point.]

Sorry.

[ The response is immediate and Carver feels guilty for letting the words tumble out without much pause. He shouldn't have and has the decency to look a bit abashed over it. The one person he doesn't want to overload and push away is Alistair so he internally chastises himself to remember to calm down and take it easy.

So, he tries to this time. ]

Surana, an elf. He... did a lot of shitty things. But, you know, kill an archdemon and suddenly you get labeled a hero. [ Alistair, the one he knows, didn't really speak of his travels with the Hero of Ferelden, and most knew better than to ask. They'd read the stories, heard them, too. ] The Inquisitor is a [ he does make a face, can't help that ] qunari. Also not the greatest person around.

[ But who is, really?

Carver pauses now, trying to figure out how to explain in the most condensed sort of way. It's not that short of a story and an Alistair is involved. He rubs the bridge of his nose and looks a little helpless. ]

It's... a bit of a story. About the Wardens. You— [ confusion sets in for a moment ] or, I guess, a version of you?—is involved. And so was my sister. I didn't mean to— I mean, I don't want to unload all of this if you don't want it.

[ He sighs and looks off to the side, muttering under his breath. ]

Maker's arse none of this makes any sense at all.

[They're both doing a marvelous job of putting their foot in it. As off-putting as the whole mess is, that does endear Carver to him a little. Andraste only knows how often his big mouth has caused trouble. It's impossible not to feel a bit of sympathy for someone else finding themselves in the same position.]

An elf. That's new... Not the doing shitty things bit, much as I wish it were. [But that means Carver isn't from... 'Alistair's Thedas' then. So presumably the other things he mentioned aren't guaranteed to happen for them both. But he doesn't know for sure that they won't just because the Warden was a different person - the Blight still happened and Alistair himself was still involved in stopping it so some things remain the same. And this story is about the Wardens. That makes it important not just to him but to everyone.

Before he can say as much - as strange as it will be hearing about a different him - Carver gives to voice to what they all feel at some point. It does a good job of relieving some of the tension, amusement briefly breaking through confusion and concern. Alistair chuckles and offers the other Warden a rueful smile.]

I wish I could say it gets better. [But it really doesn't. The opposite he'd say if pressed.] But you are in good company.

[They're all as confused as each other so maybe that will help. His smile fades and he looks at Carver expectantly.]

Unload away? The Wardens being exiled and so soon after a Blight- [Which should still be fresh enough in everyone's minds that they remember why the order is needed.] Is something I want to know more about, no matter how many years I have before it's time to worry about it.

[If he can worry about it when the time comes, given what he's been told of Wonderland. But even if the knowledge can't change his actions in Thedas he still needs to know. This is the Wardens they're talking about. If there's going to be trouble for the order he has to know.]

[ In spite of everything, Carver can't help the small, but absolutely genuine smile that ticks up the corners of his mouth at that. He's not so certain about everyone else, but Fenris is here and seems to know his struggles and Alistair is, too. Even if he doesn't know who Carver even is. Ultimately it doesn't matter. There aren't many who have an effect over Carver's moods, but his commanding officer is most definitely one of them.

And, really, after his life, he doesn't expect anything to get better. Not the way things have been going.

Still uncertain of what he should share and what he shouldn't, Carver hesitates before starting again. Does he tell him Alistair was there for it? Does he tell him everything from start to finish? For a few minutes he chews on his lip then just decides to talk about the Wardens. Ambiguously as he can. ]

The Wardens became... compromised, you could say. The mages, really. Blood magic and sacrifices. It was a sodding mess. [ He rubs his neck, sighing heavily and just blurts out the part he thought maybe he shouldn't. ] You—the one I know—knew something wasn't right and spoke out against it and... got labeled a traitor. You took off to look more into it yourself and my sister got in contact with you. Eventually, the Inquisitor got involved and there was a siege on Adamant. Which... sent you, my sister, the Inquisitor, and some others into the actual Fade. In the end, my sister stayed behind so the rest of you could get free. [ He says it almost clinically, detached in a way he's forced himself to repeat this story. ] Not wanting to put everyone at risk, apparently, the Inquisitor exiled the whole Order right there. Even the ones that were never at risk to begin with.

[Alistair's expression grows more grim with every word out of Carver's mouth, tension creeping into him as he listens in silence. When the other Warden is done he can barely manage the faintest sound of acknowledgement, breath escaping him in a rush.]

Ah.

[Silence stretches out as he scrambles to make sense of the story.

It can't be true. He doesn't want it to be true. Blood magic. The Wardens being compromised - whatever that means. And exiled. And his own role - being called a traitor by the Wardens themselves.

It can't all be true. They'd been exiled from Ferelden once, yes. But that had been politics, Sophia Dryden's rebellion. Nothing to be proud of but not blood magic. How many Warden mages turned maleficarum would it take to warrant exiling the entire order? Why would so many turn to something so evil? How much would it take for him to denounce the entire order? It's too much to believe.

And yet. Carver's a Warden himself. He has no reason to lie about this. The man's talking about the loss of his own family, he surely wouldn't lie about that. There's nothing to be gained by making up a story like this - he seems to have come to grips with their current situation - telling such a lie about the Wardens here does nothing but risk alienating him from his fellows. And he didn't fake his recognition when they first spoke or his disappointment when Alistair admitted to not recognising him. Nor his difficulty relating the whole story. Alistair doesn't have a lot to go on but he doesn't believe Carver could feign it all so convincingly.

Which means... it's the truth.]

You... really know how to unload. [He tries to smile but it's more of a grimace than anything cheerful. He did ask. And later he might be glad to have the warning. But for now, it's a lot to stomach all at once. He needs some time to think.

Before he excuses himself to do just that he has to offer-] I'm sorry about your sister.

[It's not easy to lose someone. That much at least he understands.]

[ As the silence stretches, he feels even worse. Not one to really hold a steady mask, his expression falls until it's obvious he feels bad for even saying anything and guilty for sharing it at all. There's been little good news in his life since the Blight, so he isn't really sure what he expected to happen here. In truth, by now, he should just expect the worst to happen always. ]

Sorry.

[ Again he says it again easy enough, because it's true. While Carver is busy suffering in his own silence (more or less), he does understand this can't be easy for anyone else to hear, either. And he really hopes this actually doesn't alienate himself from Alistair. The man might not know him, but Carver does and it's important to him that someone he respects doesn't think him barking mad. ]

I didn't— Thanks, I mean. I guess. [ Logically he should take the kindness for what it is. And he's trying. ] She wasn't— [ He shakes his head. There's no real way to say Alistair was more important without sounding far too callous. ] It doesn't matter. It happened.

[Alistair waves aside the apology with a slightly more believable smile this time.]

I did ask.

[Carver offered not to say anything and Alistair chose to hear it all the same. It's not the other Warden's fault his story is an unpleasant one. And one Alistair can't bring himself to dismiss out of hand, no matter how much he wants to. He's seen a little too much during his stay in Wonderland to not at least consider most craziness he hears.]

Right. I- You're right. [He figures Carver doesn't care for what amounts to empty platitudes - Alistair as he stands now never knew this sister of his. Anything he has to say on the subject will ring hollow. Scrubbing a hand through his hair he glances away uncomfortably.]

I need some time to think. [Or not think as it may be.] But if you need anything just ask.

[They're both Wardens still and he won't abandon a brother, no matter how overwhelmed he might be feeling.]

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