[His eyes lift, briefly. Two years, just for the association. Fenris hadn't wanted any part of this, and suffers for it anyway. (It is depressingly easy to place blame on the templars for that, more than himself.)
He doesn't apologize. It's too little, too late, and he wouldn't change any of it if he had the opportunity to do it again. In the years he's known Fenris, he knows an insincere apology would be more of an insult than none at all.
Except, maybe, to tell Hawke a little bit more.]
No. It isn't. [He focuses again on what he's doing (Fenris' too-thin wrist in one hand, the other weaving the thread of mana into something to push back infection). His touch is gentle but firm, healer's hands. The glow of his magic strikes harshly against stone; too much. He should have waited.] But the rest of it, out there—[some of his old harshness creeps back into him, into the thin slant of his mouth]—that is what I wanted.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2014-12-12 03:36 am (UTC)He doesn't apologize. It's too little, too late, and he wouldn't change any of it if he had the opportunity to do it again. In the years he's known Fenris, he knows an insincere apology would be more of an insult than none at all.
Except, maybe, to tell Hawke a little bit more.]
No. It isn't. [He focuses again on what he's doing (Fenris' too-thin wrist in one hand, the other weaving the thread of mana into something to push back infection). His touch is gentle but firm, healer's hands. The glow of his magic strikes harshly against stone; too much. He should have waited.] But the rest of it, out there—[some of his old harshness creeps back into him, into the thin slant of his mouth]—that is what I wanted.
[War.]