[His expression twists. His grip suddenly becomes much more firm, and much less gentle. You could kill me, like it's a blessing, like it's the ultimate answer to everything in this place. Not freedom from it, just an end to it.
Anger lances through him, for the first time since the templars took him, an old and familiar sensation. Because he's right, isn't he. The templars are under no obligation to pretend at the Chantry's guidelines for humane treatment anymore. They can be just as brutal as they always were, only now out in the open, and Fenris isn't even a mage. He's a prisoner. There's no reason to hope for mercy.
Once, a long time ago, sitting alone in the dank, humid gloom of Kinloch Hold's isolation cells, Anders had thought about it too. Idly, the first time, stroking a cat's ears through the door's meal flap, and then again later, not so idly. If only there was someone to slit his throat for him, so he didn't have to muster the energy to crush it himself.
He'd thought it could have been a similarity, before. A thread of understanding beneath all the noise of their differences. Now that he has it, he feels disgusted.]
I could. [Each word has to be drawn out through his teeth, gritted in anger.] But I won't.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2014-12-12 05:29 am (UTC)Anger lances through him, for the first time since the templars took him, an old and familiar sensation. Because he's right, isn't he. The templars are under no obligation to pretend at the Chantry's guidelines for humane treatment anymore. They can be just as brutal as they always were, only now out in the open, and Fenris isn't even a mage. He's a prisoner. There's no reason to hope for mercy.
Once, a long time ago, sitting alone in the dank, humid gloom of Kinloch Hold's isolation cells, Anders had thought about it too. Idly, the first time, stroking a cat's ears through the door's meal flap, and then again later, not so idly. If only there was someone to slit his throat for him, so he didn't have to muster the energy to crush it himself.
He'd thought it could have been a similarity, before. A thread of understanding beneath all the noise of their differences. Now that he has it, he feels disgusted.]
I could. [Each word has to be drawn out through his teeth, gritted in anger.] But I won't.