[ Foolish instinct sends Fenris fighting Anders for the right to die first, inserting himself bodily between his—between Anders and the certain carnage beyond the door. His lyrium may be leashed but he is still a warrior, he's still stronger under the lash or blade than any mage can hope to be. Distantly he thinks about how Anders probably deserves to die, even after all this time, probably even wants it, and yet...
Then, as quickly as it had come, a rustling silence falls over the wing. There are murmurs, rummaging, the clatter of keys and daggers sheathing, and the tang of blood hits Fenris full in the face as the bars on the door shunk free and it opens with a heavy shriek. Later he will think back and marvel at how quickly it all happened: the corridor is thick with wiry scouts and assassins, human, elven, all manner of hooded agents serving an authority he does not recognize. At the Inquisitor's personal request, says a woman called Trapper, and for a second Fenris can only stand by numbly as the Qunari-styled lead on his collar is pressed into his hands by someone else. Hunter has for them a letter which Fenris cannot completely read, but it takes only the recognition of the word "Hawke" scrawled on vellum for him to thrust it at Anders. Varric's hand, he thinks, seeing the particular slants and loops more as familiar abstractions than letters. He doesn't know. It's been so long.
When the collar clatters to the ground, the burst and roar of unrepressed magic through his blood is too dizzying to bear; he sways, arm colliding with Anders's chest in a stubborn, persistent attempt to shield him from the unknown.
Two things become clear above all others: time is short and they will be hunted again. Hawke is waiting in a place called Skyhold. A brutal trek lies ahead: from Antiva City they must go south to Wycome, from Wycome to Amaranthine by sea, from Amaranthine to the Frostbacks on interminable foot. From the time they're released onward, stealthing into deliberately darkened city streets, Fenris does not stop thinking about killing everyone and running. But he's unarmed still, delirious with hunger and exhaustion, and it does not even occur to him to abandon Anders, and at the end of the journey there will be Hawke—who, all this time, had seemingly forgotten them both. ]
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branchandroot
BURSTS LUSTILY IN.
Date: 2015-02-24 05:38 am (UTC)Then, as quickly as it had come, a rustling silence falls over the wing. There are murmurs, rummaging, the clatter of keys and daggers sheathing, and the tang of blood hits Fenris full in the face as the bars on the door shunk free and it opens with a heavy shriek. Later he will think back and marvel at how quickly it all happened: the corridor is thick with wiry scouts and assassins, human, elven, all manner of hooded agents serving an authority he does not recognize. At the Inquisitor's personal request, says a woman called Trapper, and for a second Fenris can only stand by numbly as the Qunari-styled lead on his collar is pressed into his hands by someone else. Hunter has for them a letter which Fenris cannot completely read, but it takes only the recognition of the word "Hawke" scrawled on vellum for him to thrust it at Anders. Varric's hand, he thinks, seeing the particular slants and loops more as familiar abstractions than letters. He doesn't know. It's been so long.
When the collar clatters to the ground, the burst and roar of unrepressed magic through his blood is too dizzying to bear; he sways, arm colliding with Anders's chest in a stubborn, persistent attempt to shield him from the unknown.
Two things become clear above all others: time is short and they will be hunted again. Hawke is waiting in a place called Skyhold. A brutal trek lies ahead: from Antiva City they must go south to Wycome, from Wycome to Amaranthine by sea, from Amaranthine to the Frostbacks on interminable foot. From the time they're released onward, stealthing into deliberately darkened city streets, Fenris does not stop thinking about killing everyone and running. But he's unarmed still, delirious with hunger and exhaustion, and it does not even occur to him to abandon Anders, and at the end of the journey there will be Hawke—who, all this time, had seemingly forgotten them both. ]