thehometree | (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.

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[Fenris backed off a bit, jaw tensing as he watched the unknown man. That voice... he sounded Orlesian. He could deal with Orlesians.

His hands formed fists, body shifting to a more defensive stance. Gritting his teeth, he watched Arno as if he expected him to lunge at him.]

It's only a rock.

Edited 2015-04-20 20:09 (UTC)

[He noticed the stance and remained calm, he wasn't actively looking for a fight after all. The Not!Orlesian held up a hand, signalling peace. Of course, if Fenris attacked anyway, he had the weapons. Let's not go there. Arno just fought in a huge battle. No need for another with a new tree resident. Scary that he was here for a month already and he could be considered one of the veterans by this point.

This place was filling up fast. That was a different concern for a different day. Time to deal with this guy.]

And this is only a tree, yet here we are with all of this. Nothing is as it seems around this place.

['Anna' had taken the worse edge off, but he was still ready to fight at any moment. The more people he met, the more they seemed to be using those wings, and he couldn't let his guard down because of it.

Those gems might not just give wings, but suggestion as well, and despite how tense he was, he didn't exactly want to fight a tree full of brainwashed people.

A tree. It's still hard to believe it.]

I'm not surprised. Magic has a tendency to do things like that.

[Trust him, it took a while for Arno to get a feel for the wings. Let alone, accept they were there.]

So you know of magic too, then? Color me surprised whenever I hear any who does.

[Small talk, alright? Small talk.]

I feel mad thinking of it merely existing in such a way.

[Alrighty then, here it went.]

My name is Arno Victor Dorian, a resident taken from my homeland as well.

Edited 2015-04-21 01:10 (UTC)

You... didn't know about magic?

[Where the hell did you come from, Orlaisian dude, and how can he get there? It was a ridiculous thought to Fenris, but the way the other man spoke sounded surprisingly honest.]

Fenris.

[He then adds, almost as an afterthought. No long and fancy name, here.]

Not of this kind, absolutely not.

[Piece of Edens were a little different. But he guessed it was some form of "magic".]

People who could heal the wounded like nothing and people who could use the very water itself as a weapon are far too beyond what I could've imagined. My homeland wouldn't know how to handle themselves with power like that.

[He had no reason to lie to this stranger.]

Well...Monsieur Fenris, a pleasure.

...few people do. Not always even the mages themselves.

[Only some. Even then, it was a lifetime of struggle.

Still, he's polite behind the tension, a bit of respect underneath the hidden fear. There's a simple nod of acknowledgement in the use of his name.]

Messere.

[Whoa, what was that pretty sensible thing he just heard?]

I can't argue with that. Not one bit, I'm afraid.

[After all, even if Arno took that Piece of Eden to be stored, the thought of it used (when even he used it to make an escape) was horrifying. One of the main reasons why he went to retrieve it. To hide it away and make sure people like Napoleon couldn't get their paws on it to take control of France. What would Napoleon have done if he did get the Piece, or learn how to use water in many ways, or turn into that giant he saw during the spider war?]

You sound rather used to the notion, you have known those who can use magic then?

[He said it in a way that insisted that Fenris didn't have to spill a life story, but sharing things with a non-magic person might be helpful. It also seemed to make Fenris calm down. Look at them having a debated conversation.]

I have... I do.

[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.

[Arno did it, he nodded. This man would've made a fine Assassin perhaps. Or hell, maybe a Templar? You could perhaps twist the words however way you wanted to and you can sound like either.

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.