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Description
“I do have something to remember my parents by.”

Harvey was unsure what finally loosened up his tongue. It might have been his common sense taking a stand, that one part of his mind prone to admit he won't be able to remain in his stupor for much longer. Or maybe he simply thought his companion deserved more than the somber silence interwoven with half-hearted grunts. Whatever it was, pointing at the object resting at Alistair's feet was one of the most difficult things he's done of late, fighting darkspawn and all.

It took a few moments for the warrior to figure out the implications. “The sword?” He inquired, eyebrows raised. “The sword you gave me at Ostagar?” He picked up the blade and inspected it carefully in the dim light.

Harvey could easily imagine what he was seeing. An old blade, far more clunky than those used nowadays, but still indisputably well balanced, the laurel pattern adorning the hilt faded almost into non-existence. He knew this sword by heart. A long, long time ago he even thought he'll get to wield it one day.

Still, the sudden outburst was not what he expected.

“Are you completely out of your mind?! I can't take this!” The look on Alistair's horrified face showed understanding of what exactly this sword was. “What if I lose it on the battlefield...what if it breaks? Don't you care about your heirloom?” He got up, determined, handing the hilt back to its proper owner.

Harvey's hand twitched and moved to take the offering, but then wavered and only pushed it farther away. “And what do you want me to do with it?!”- he asked, voice rising more than he intended. “Swords should be used!” He met Alistair's blank gaze and grit his teeth. “It's too heavy for me! Unwieldy!” He spat out the word, feeling his face burning up. It was a mistake; He really didn't need this right now, explaining himself in front of a man he barely knew.

Alistair stood, annoyingly relentless, waiting for the rogue to change his mind.

Well, at least he didn't throw it under my feet, Harvey sighed. “Look, it's a good sword. A warrior's sword... and I am no warrior. Keep it till we find you a better one, if that makes you feel better,” he compromised dryly.

“It is a good blade” Alistair admitted slowly, still uncertain, but it seemed that at last he complied. He sat back down, thoughtful, glancing between Harvey and the weapon. “I won't lose it, I promise,” he said, the solemn tone earning him a strange look from the rogue. Carefully putting the blade back in its sheath, he sent Harvey a crooked smile. “And if something happens to it...I'll tell you what, “ -- he pondered for a second -- “I will let you shave my head, completely. Hairless as a knee. What you say?”

The idea was so ridiculous, so outlandish, that Harvey couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. And then a second one. It took him a few moments to realize that the third sound that left his throat was not a laugh, no, and suddenly he was biting his balled fist, finally failing to keep in what was long overdue. It came crashing down on him, Highever, his parents, the fact he's not going to see them again. That the only thing he had left was a stupid, useless symbol. His eyes burned, so he covered them with his arm -- he wasn't a child anymore, and crying won't fix anything, as his father would say. He allowed himself w few choked up sobs.

It took Harvey a few minutes to calm down enough to speak, his companion being the only --thankfully silent -- witness to his grief. “Stupid piece of metal.” He managed, his voice coarse. “This is just a stupid piece of metal.”

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My entry for the 's 'My Best Friend' challenge - a written piece + a comic/illustration thing.

Harvey and Alistair bonding after Ostagar, whether my Cousland wants it or not. I wanted to try a more somber approach, especially since I tend to draw more lighthearted pieces.

Harvey Cousland (c) me
Alistair and Dragon age (c) Bioware

Description
“I do have something to remember my parents by.”

Harvey was unsure what finally loosened up his tongue. It might have been his common sense taking a stand, that one part of his mind prone to admit he won't be able to remain in his stupor for much longer. Or maybe he simply thought his companion deserved more than the somber silence interwoven with half-hearted grunts. Whatever it was, pointing at the object resting at Alistair's feet was one of the most difficult things he's done of late, fighting darkspawn and all.

It took a few moments for the warrior to figure out the implications. “The sword?” He inquired, eyebrows raised. “The sword you gave me at Ostagar?” He picked up the blade and inspected it carefully in the dim light.

Harvey could easily imagine what he was seeing. An old blade, far more clunky than those used nowadays, but still indisputably well balanced, the laurel pattern adorning the hilt faded almost into non-existence. He knew this sword by heart. A long, long time ago he even thought he'll get to wield it one day.

Still, the sudden outburst was not what he expected.

“Are you completely out of your mind?! I can't take this!” The look on Alistair's horrified face showed understanding of what exactly this sword was. “What if I lose it on the battlefield...what if it breaks? Don't you care about your heirloom?” He got up, determined, handing the hilt back to its proper owner.

Harvey's hand twitched and moved to take the offering, but then wavered and only pushed it farther away. “And what do you want me to do with it?!”- he asked, voice rising more than he intended. “Swords should be used!” He met Alistair's blank gaze and grit his teeth. “It's too heavy for me! Unwieldy!” He spat out the word, feeling his face burning up. It was a mistake; He really didn't need this right now, explaining himself in front of a man he barely knew.

Alistair stood, annoyingly relentless, waiting for the rogue to change his mind.

Well, at least he didn't throw it under my feet, Harvey sighed. “Look, it's a good sword. A warrior's sword... and I am no warrior. Keep it till we find you a better one, if that makes you feel better,” he compromised dryly.

“It is a good blade” Alistair admitted slowly, still uncertain, but it seemed that at last he complied. He sat back down, thoughtful, glancing between Harvey and the weapon. “I won't lose it, I promise,” he said, the solemn tone earning him a strange look from the rogue. Carefully putting the blade back in its sheath, he sent Harvey a crooked smile. “And if something happens to it...I'll tell you what, “ -- he pondered for a second -- “I will let you shave my head, completely. Hairless as a knee. What you say?”

The idea was so ridiculous, so outlandish, that Harvey couldn't help but let out a small chuckle. And then a second one. It took him a few moments to realize that the third sound that left his throat was not a laugh, no, and suddenly he was biting his balled fist, finally failing to keep in what was long overdue. It came crashing down on him, Highever, his parents, the fact he's not going to see them again. That the only thing he had left was a stupid, useless symbol. His eyes burned, so he covered them with his arm -- he wasn't a child anymore, and crying won't fix anything, as his father would say. He allowed himself w few choked up sobs.

It took Harvey a few minutes to calm down enough to speak, his companion being the only --thankfully silent -- witness to his grief. “Stupid piece of metal.” He managed, his voice coarse. “This is just a stupid piece of metal.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My entry for the 's 'My Best Friend' challenge - a written piece + a comic/illustration thing.

Harvey and Alistair bonding after Ostagar, whether my Cousland wants it or not. I wanted to try a more somber approach, especially since I tend to draw more lighthearted pieces.

Harvey Cousland (c) me
Alistair and Dragon age (c) Bioware