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
[Which, you know. She finds pleasantly ironic. The pecan is turned over in her hand, and then she pulls a small knife - nothing lethal looking, just small and built for utility - out of her pocket and she starts out by cutting a piece from it, inevitably spilling pecan crumbs everywhere as she does.]
It got handled, though. I don't know how thoroughly, I sort of-- stayed out of it.
no subject
Absently, he rubs the red cloth tied around his arm.]
Any other threats I should be aware of?