Fenris (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
formerslave) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thehometree2015-04-20 01:49 am
formerslave) wrote in thehometree2015-04-20 01:49 am
(no subject)
| characters | Fenris & Open
| date/time | Evening, April 19th
| location | Entrance
| rating | Some warnings of scars and abuse.
| summary | Fenris does not approve of this place.
The wooden floor of the tree was hard, the wall uneven and rough. Yet he still leaned to it, his lkarge green eyes following the bright light in the middle of the room as if it could give him any answers. He was tensed, uncomfortable all the way down to his core, and there had been no lies to avoid, no battle to fight.
Just a ray of light... and that gem.
Wings. A dream to some, an enhancement worthy of a magister, to conquer the skies the sky itself. Not to him. To Fenris, it was nothing but a joke, a cruel reminder from someone with lousy humor. He had been so disgusted, seething in silence at the mockery of those markings. There might be no lyrium in them, but the pattern was a perfect match.
You're still flawed, scarred, branded.
Anger was easy. Rage was comfortable to turn to, and he had sent the gem flying towards the wall of the room, hoping it would shatter; maybe release the illusion from his mind. It proved quite impossible, however, and it didn't matter how many times he threw the gem away. It somehow returned to him again, and it was more than a little disconcerting.
It made his skin crawl.
Whoever put him here weren't showing themselves, which had the elf even more on edge. He didn't like being alone. Not any more. Hawke had already been gone for a long time, and he didn't want to be trapped in this illusion when the mage came back.
He wanted to be free.
| date/time | Evening, April 19th
| location | Entrance
| rating | Some warnings of scars and abuse.
| summary | Fenris does not approve of this place.
The wooden floor of the tree was hard, the wall uneven and rough. Yet he still leaned to it, his lkarge green eyes following the bright light in the middle of the room as if it could give him any answers. He was tensed, uncomfortable all the way down to his core, and there had been no lies to avoid, no battle to fight.
Just a ray of light... and that gem.
Wings. A dream to some, an enhancement worthy of a magister, to conquer the skies the sky itself. Not to him. To Fenris, it was nothing but a joke, a cruel reminder from someone with lousy humor. He had been so disgusted, seething in silence at the mockery of those markings. There might be no lyrium in them, but the pattern was a perfect match.
You're still flawed, scarred, branded.
Anger was easy. Rage was comfortable to turn to, and he had sent the gem flying towards the wall of the room, hoping it would shatter; maybe release the illusion from his mind. It proved quite impossible, however, and it didn't matter how many times he threw the gem away. It somehow returned to him again, and it was more than a little disconcerting.
It made his skin crawl.
Whoever put him here weren't showing themselves, which had the elf even more on edge. He didn't like being alone. Not any more. Hawke had already been gone for a long time, and he didn't want to be trapped in this illusion when the mage came back.
He wanted to be free.
no subject
[Some things were different. Just some.
It still grates at him, like splintered wood against bare skin. When Fenris speaks, it is like worrying a healing scab, and he knows it's not the same any more, yet he had been nothing but frustrated (frightened) so far.]
Magic is like a disease. Sooner or later it grows into a need for more power, and those that seek it will step over graves to get to it. It corrupts, and it twists.
I only know one mage that had the strength to stay true to himself even through the most hopeless times. All other sooner or later grew into monsters or lost their control.
no subject
That was how Arno viewed it. He just so happened to fall into a line of Assassins.]
People with that kind of power then soon would probably use that power over others. Treat them like sheep to match their own herd of ideals, because that's the world they want to shape it to be.
[He actually said that in some continuation. Again, funny how it came to this.]
I can't speak for all magic, I can only judge a person. Judge a person, judge their power.