WELCOME

[Fenris]

(This thread is set after "Bait and Switch" but before "Pirates and Mages." It's open to Hawke.)

Borrowed or not, all Fenris had was time right now -- and he was spending it in Danarius' run-down mansion. Hour upon hour of pacing the master suite left him with restless energy and an open wine bottle, carrying it around by the neck and occasionally pausing to take a long pull of it.

Vile. The taste of it was tainted by the memory of the man who once owned the swill, but that only encouraged him to keep drinking it. By the time Fenris was done with his old master, the mage would have nothing left. Not even his precious wine stores.

This was petty, vindictive, instinct more than reason, and it would get no better. There was a path of uncertainty taking shape before him, too many questions left unanswered for him to know what it truly meant. Why would Danarius wait? Had he traveled to Kirkwall at all? Was he truly defeated, cowed into hiding and no longer a threat?

Nothing about it made sense, and Fenris was realizing that there were worse fates than simply being hunted: not knowing when the chase might resume.

He had little patience for it.

Stalking away from the hearth, he walked to the small table and touched the clawed tips of his gauntlet to the dusty surface, watching the imprints left behind with a sneer. The cobwebs were only the beginning of the filth in this place, corpses still cooling out in the foyer, and Fenris cared to do nothing about it.

This was no true home; it was a last stand.

The pacing resumed. When the sound of another set of footsteps reached him, he made no move to intercept the visitor. At his hour, it could be only a small number of people. Fenris accepted that he couldn't avoid them forever.

[Garrett Hawke]

After making sure that Fenris had a place to stay – and the elf had decided upon the mansion, despite protests that it wasn't safe – Hawke had left for home. He was exhausted from the night's exertions, and had to rest, to replenish his mana. And spend some alone time with his family. He'd learned the day before that his cousin, Solona Amell, lived and was free, and he'd met her. To the annoyance of Gamlen, the Hawkes had offered to let her stay with them. After all, it was hard to find a place here, especially for an apostate, except in Darktown where it was just awful, and he wasn't about to let her stay there. Gamlen would just have to deal.

Hawke was very happy to see her free of the Circle. Kirkwall, with all its templars, was a dangerous place for an apostate, though it was good to have his cousin around. He wondered, truly, what his mother thought. They had just lost Bethany. Nothing would fill that void, and it was different having a woman who was a mage with the family again. She would not replace Bethany, but she was still family. Hawke was sure he would warm up to her, as she seemed the decent type that he could get along with.

But for now, there was another person that he needed to check up on. Fenris was alone in the mansion, which was in Hightown. Danarius could have been biding his time, waiting until they'd raided the mansion and left Fenris alone. It was something that had made him have trouble sleeping last night. He had tossed and turned, wondering if he'd come to that mansion to see that Fenris had been taken away or killed. Needless to say, when dawn broke, he dressed and left home for Hightown, buying an apple from the vendor on the way.

He didn't want to draw attention to the inhabitant of the mansion, so he didn't use the huge knocker; rather, he unlocked the door with the spare key they'd found in storage. He pushed the door open just enough that he could slip in, and close it behind himself. It was dark inside, and there was the smell of death. Hawke lit his hand up, letting the glow of magic light his way to the back room. The first things he noticed were the corpses that the inhabitants of the mansion had used to summon the demons. He truly couldn't understand why Fenris would stay in this place. It had a creepy feeling, even if there were no corpses or demons. They'd “killed” all the demons, sent them back into the Fade where they came from, but Hawke wondered if there were more in hiding.

But Fenris didn't seem to care. In fact, Hawke wondered if he was happy staying here. He hadn't known Fenris for long enough to get to know him. But he knew that Fenris' offer to stick with him was as genuine as his gratefulness that they had aided.

He found Fenris in the masters' suite, pacing with a bottle in his hand. Instantly, he began to feel sorry for the elf; he couldn't understand truly what he'd been going through. “Fenris?” he said gently, hoping he wasn't interrupting the elf's thoughts. From watching him fight, he knew the elf was vigilant, and was certain he'd anticipated Hawke's approach.

[Fenris]

A fire still roared in the hearth, but it made the place no less uncomfortable. The belognings of someone else were all around this place, forgotten clothes and writing utensils, papers and paintings, statues and finery -- even a lute. At some point, someone lived here and did so lavishly, and it was the vicious thought that perhaps it truly was Danarius that allowed him to revel in stalking these halls defiantly, awaiting his return.

It was the waiting that left him ill at ease, at a loss for what to do.

A long moment passed before Fenris acknowledged Hawke, his restless, stalking steps confined near the fireplace now, becoming more deliberate and thoughtful. Bottle to his lips, his head tipped back as he drank.

"Hawke. You're just in time for a drink," was his sarcastic greeting. There was a faint gesture from his other hand, beckoning him inside, the only encouragement he would give for the man to do as he pleased. Fenris wasn't one for formalities.

His gaze, instead, was fixed to the bottle in his grasp, the corners of his mouth easing into a frown. "Agreggio Pavali. Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. It intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed."

Another long, drawing pull from the bottle, and then it was airborne, thrown with as much force as the elf could muster and raining a spectacular mess of glass and wine when it met with the far wall. "But I don't wish to talk about that. What brings you here?"

[Garrett Hawke]

Hawke wondered whether Fenris was drunk. How many of those bottles had he downed? But he didn't move as though he was. Given his situation, Hawke didn't blame him for downing a few. In fact, there were some times when he wished he had that luxury. But Hawke rarely got himself to a buzz. There was too much to do to waste it drinking.

Hawke quirked an eyebrow when Fenris threw the bottle against the wall. It shattered, and Aggregio Pavali now decorated the wall. “Decided the wall was thirstier than me?” Hawke joked as he approached the white-haired elf. To say he was interesting was an understatement.

“I was just checking up,” he replied when Fenris queried him about why he was here. “You sure you're alright, alone like this? What if Danarius decides to come back when you're alone?” Fenris wasn't yet a friend, but Hawke had helped the former slave and he wouldn't just leave him like this. And he had a feeling that beneath that harsh exterior, there was a potential friend, not just an ally.

[Fenris]

Everyone had a motive, a price that would buy their loyalty; Fenris knew that sort of lifestyle well, an entire society built upon it in Tevinter. None of it could have prepared him for Hawke's questions.

This man, this mage, showed up at odd hours and asked after him with concern? In what manner of world did that make any sense? Moments passed in which Fenris could only stop and watch, unsure of how to react, but with a hint of uncertainty, he eventually sat down on one of the benches arranged near the hearth.

Was that humor as well? A laugh betrayed Fenris before he caught himself, clearing his throat and trying to find a place to begin -- never easy for him.

"I have no doubt Danarius will return," he eventually acknowledged, dark eyebrows knitting together. "I've tried to leave my past behind me, but it has a way of following. Perhaps he is able to follow me through the markings; I don't know for certain."

The mere thought of it made him restless and irritable, holding himself rigid where he sat; his gauntlets were digging into the aging wood, but he didn't seem to notice. "If that day comes, I won't ask for your help." There was a pause as the elf wrestled with his pride. What Fenris lacked in worldly possessions he more than made up for in dignity. "But were you to offer it, I wouldn't turn it away, either."

His head shook, perhaps dismissing the idea from his mind. "You didn't come here to listen to my whining. You are from Ferelden, are you not? Do you ever think of returning? The Blight is now over."

[Garrett Hawke]

It was good to see a smile cross that stoic face, and the chuckle that followed, though it was gone as soon as it came. He sat across from Fenris, listening as he spoke of Danarius. “Maybe it is,” he replied. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do about those markings, which were etched into Fenris' skin.

“I will help you,” he assured the slave. “You can count on that.” Slavery was evil. Hawke had no reasons not to help Fenris, though it had no monetary gain. It was the right thing to do, and this elf needed his help more than anything, whether he knew it or not.

Hawke pondered Ferelden, for the first time in a while. “Not for a long time. When we were in Ferelden, we wandered a lot. I'm used to it...though, I think Kirkwall's grown on me.”

[Fenris]

The offer of help came so freely, so selflessly, that Fenris was at a loss yet again. He had no point of reference for kindness, no precedent to give him any sort of definitive answer. Was Hawke even sure of what he offered, of what it meant to face a Tevinter magister?

Dark magic. The conflict would be brutal and bloody right until the bitter end.

Perhaps Hawke would change his mind once he better understood. Until then, not for the first time since their meeting, Fenris was silently thankful for the aid.

That did little to stop Fenris finding fault with some of Hawke's decisions, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as they spoke of lost homes. It was a tale all too familiar, and here was a man who probably could return to his roots, should he truly want to do it. Something like envy and resentment coiled in Fenris' chest, a brash response on his lips before he even considered it.

"But you could return. You have that option," he insisted, unable to keep the bitter edge from his voice. "What does Kirkwall offer that is so different?"

[Garrett Hawke]

He had thought about it. But even though, like his father, he was a nomad at heart, there were still things to be done here in Kirkwall, and he couldn't help but admit, he'd grown fond of it. The main reason was less selfish, however.

“My mother's family was born here,” he explained. “They were nobility. The Amells. Mother had a life here, as a noble, but she ran off with my father, Malcolm, to Ferelden.” He didn't mention yet that his father had been an apostate. That was beyond the point, anyway. The truth was that Leandra had loved the man for who he was, not what he was, else she wouldn't have run off with him. “Gamlen lost our inheritance. I don't know how. But mother wants to reclaim our home. Do you know who owns our family home now? Slavers. But they keep their operations well-hidden, so nothing can officially be done by them. Carver and I want to go into the cellar, sometime. Our grandparents' will is still there.”

He didn't know why he was telling Fenris all of this, but it was a feeling. A feeling of trust. The elf would not spill his secrets, and in fact, he had pledged to help him. “All our life, we've never stayed in the same place for very long, wandering Ferelden. We thought Lothering would be permanent. We'd had friends there. But then the Blight came, and we had to leave. Our home was destroyed, and I'm sure many of our friends are dead now.” He frowned. “I don't want to go back to that. Mother wants to make a life here, and so do Carver and I. I've made friends here, and even met my long-lost cousin Solona. I hope we stay in Kirkwall for a long time.”

[Fenris]

Although the circumstances weren't the same, there was a common thread Fenris could appreciate -- forced into running for the sake of survival. Considering it in silence, he leaned forward and rested his arms over the tops of his legs, eyes on the fire. It seemed he would say nothing at all, content with the opportunity to listen, but something in his expression inevitably sharpened. An intrigued eyebrow raised, his stare suddenly on Hawke, searching.

"Slavers in your family's home?" If possible, the lingering scowl threatened to deepen that little bit further. "When you choose to deal with them, I will gladly assist you."

There was no need to ask for his reasons. Fenris would never be the sort of creature for blind kindness and compassion, but there were things that hit close to home, things he could understand. This was one of them.

"I didn't mean to question your motives," he said after a pause, sitting upright once more. "It's simply a familiar tale."

No home. Nowhere to go. Perhaps this city was as good a place as anywhere else.

[Garrett Hawke]

There was no doubt in Hawke's mind that Fenris would help him, and he nodded. “You'll be the first to know once we plan to go after the will.” They'd need all the help they could get; Garrett would bring Carver and Solona for sure, and Aveline would no doubt want to help. The others had their own thing, though Varric would probably join if asked. He seemed to like tagging along with the group, and Hawke seemed to recall mentioning his travels would make a good story.

“I know,” he replied. “And I was letting you know why I'd rather stay here, for now at least.” Hawke wasn't easily offended, especially about a small thing like that. And with someone like Fenris, he would have to have a bit of understanding. He was a mage, and Fenris had made it clear he had a distaste for them. He had his reasons, after seeing what he had in Tevinter, being a slave to a magister. Hawke couldn't even imagine the things he'd witnessed. “And that it is,” he said, realising what Fenris meant.

((Time to share a bottle~? X3. Hawke wouldn't take a bottle without permission first, so you'd have to do it. ))

[Fenris]

How easily Hawke let him slide for his ill temper and bitter remarks -- again, something he wasn't used to seeing. Were the situations reversed, Fenris knew himself well enough to know he wouldn't have the patience to be nearly half as understanding; if he ever were that kind of person, his memories of it were stripped, replaced with this obsession of staying one step ahead of Danarius, spiting him at every turn.

Was this the cost of freedom?

It didn't matter. The magister had reason to pause now, to think twice about Fenris and the company he kept. It wasn't quite enough to sate the need for revenge, but given the alternative, it was better than he dared hope. Perhaps he would have to speak to Anso as well, to thank him for his part in this.

A faint smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth at the thought -- gratitude, something he didn't quite know how to express. In the absence of words, Fenris rose to his feet and walked to the small table, reaching beneath it to find another bottle of wine, not even sure what he intended to do with it at first.

Turning the cool glass over in his hands, he offered it to the other man. "For you, Hawke. Take it. I'm sure Danarius won't be needing it any time soon."

[Garrett Hawke]

“Thank you,” he replied, accepting the bottle graciously. It was too early in the morning, and he couldn't carry it around with him. “Mind if I keep this here? We can share a bottle tonight.” And now, for another reason that he had come here. “I was hoping that you could come with me to the Hanged Man. Varric's given me some new information about the Deep Roads expedition.” He had told Fenris about the expedition last night, after they had searched Danarius' mansion. “I was hoping to brief everyone on it.” Everyone meaning Sebastian, Varric, Carver, and Aveline. The people that went with him, for their own reasons. He also intended to discuss the promise he had made to Sebastian; seeking vengeance for his family's murder. He hoped that in doing this, he could find out who killed the Starkhaven rulers. This wasn't just a selfless act. If Sebastian ended up ruling Starkhaven, then Garrett would have a powerful ally, who would no doubt reward him, and maybe even help them get the attention of the Viscount so that they could reclaim the estate. Chances of success were slim, but Garrett had to try, for Sebastian and mostly for his family. Plus, he wasn't one to go back on promises, as could be ascertained from the fact that he was so bent on delivering the amulet to the Dalish at Sundermount – another subject of their discussion, when they'd all gathered at the Hanged Man.

[Fenris]

"We drink tonight then," Fenris agreed.

A moment passed in which the elf simply watched Hawke, arms crossed, considering him. This wasn't the first he heard of the expedition, but that it seemed to be taking shape surprised him. How many fools chasing gold ever truly sought the opportunity? Apparently, Fenris was staring down one of the few who did.

"If you require my presence, I will be there." He vowed his help, whatever the matter. That extended to something as simple as this, he supposed.