open post;

[propheretic]

propheretic dasharathi lavellan ( DA: I )	eleutheron fenris ( DA II )
( coding by whambam )

- leave a comment; blank, with pictures, with prompt, etc
- select character or i will; AU or OU or whatever
- will play dasharathi as companion
- presume dasha & fenris are unromanced, but OTA for whatever

Comments

smile

[eleutheron]

[ This is hell. It has to be. The world has literally gone to hell, and Fenris is struggling through it with the absolute last person he ever expected. Or wanted, he tells himself, but he's still here, isn't he?

He justifies it like this: Hawke is still missing, and he has to find her. Walking around outside has just become a thousand times deadlier than usual, and he risks losing himself to some fresh horror at every hour on the hour. Though he does not fear death, he refuses to simply run into its embrace, especially without knowing what happened to the most important person in his life. Anders is a powerful mage, regardless of what he is and what he's done. Besides, having him near allows Fenris to keep an eye on him.

Another thing he tells himself.

He scowls at the blood, scowls harder at the ice umbrella, and his wrists itch at the sound of the chains. He mutters. ]

I wish I could say the same.

[ He'd heard the catch in Anders's voice, and he just shakes his head. It's odd to articulate it, but Kirkwall was the only semblance of home he's ever known. For a time he'd actually considered putting down roots, trying to make a real life of it--and then things happened.

Then Anders happened.

But however comfortable he became, he still looked at the chains strung over the docks and thought of his former life. He thinks of it now, too, rubbing his wrists in agitation. ]

Come. We're not far, now.

[dissent]

[ Anders catches that compulsive movement out of the corner of his eyes, and thinks good spitefully — but really it's just an echo of spite. He takes no pleasure in the idea of another's bondage anymore, too joined with Justice to be capable of it. And he and Fenris's feud is so old that even simply wishing him misery and discomfort seems more like habit than any true vindictiveness. So he doesn't say anything else about chains, and it isn't long before the sound of them fades. ]

Not too fast.

[ Waspish. He's old enough to walk with staff in hand now, probing the way, though he's actually keeping up all right; for all the abuses he's put his body through it still holds together with darkspawn blood and raw spirit power. But his knees do ache with the rain — and apparently with the onset of what he has heard other people coin Fadestorms.

Fenris doesn't have to tell him that they're close. The Nightmare had sung Corypheus' calling, and the strains of it are still audible to him the closer they get. This is what Hawke had told him to stay away from — and if he hadn't obeyed her perhaps they wouldn't now need this terrible mission.

Something howls from the rocks to their left, a gut-wrenching noise, and Anders sighs like its bothersome even while his stomach turns over. He mutters to himself fatalistically. ]

Well, you've lived a good long life. Better this than the Deep Roads.

[eleutheron]

Oh, no.

[ Fenris draws the greatsword from his back, scowling, his lyrium brands flashing pale and bright against the dark sky. ]

You're not dying out here, mage. I'm not explaining your corpse to Hawke.

[ They will make it through this, and they will find her. Fenris has survived this long. He's endured hell before and come out swinging, and he has little intention of stopping now. Even if, like Anders, he's not as young as he once was. Even if he's not quite as fast, even if he worries that the lyrium bound to his veins is slowly driving him mad or killing him or both.

He brandishes the sword at whatever's scrabbling up over the rocks, and he hisses. ]

What is it, then? Demon, or darkspawn?

[ He's just going to lunge at it recklessly regardless, but he figures if anyone can give him a second's forewarning, it's Anders. Being both mage and Grey Warden, as he is. ]