championofthedas:

Venhedis!: championofthedas: Venhedis!: championofthedas: Venhedis!:…

fistoflyrium:

For all his life, Fenris had never considered the concept of being with someone. Although he’d fantasized about running away from Danarius, he’d always assumed he’d spend his life in servitude. Relationships had always been the furthest thing from his mind. Developing friendships had been strange enough, he finding himself struggling whenever he needed to ‘play nice’ with others. Many had commented on his blunt, humorless nature though they often weren’t aware that he had very little to be humorous about.

“… I don’t want you to get hurt,” he confessed, looking to the side. Though he knew Carver to be a capable fighter, the idea of him getting hurt because of Fenris caused him to stiffen. “Being with me could be dangerous.” Fenris was under no illusion that he would be a suitable person to start a relationship with. Anyone that got involved with him would inevitably have to deal with his past, and he certainly didn’t want Carver to get caught up in it. 

ooc;; SHORT SHORT SHORT

When people doubted that Carver was capable of taking care of himself, it made him frustrated. He didn’t understand it, really. The Templar was a grown man, and had been for some time now. Before he would have whined about, and probably had a bit of a fit, but this time was different. It was probably due to the fact that he was dealing with Fenris, and not someone in his family. Either way, he kept his calm. 

As the other looked away, Carver was compelled to place his fingers on Fenris’ chin, and bring his attention back to Carver. “Being with you would be worth the risks.” A small smile tugged at the ends of his mouth as his fingers traced the elf’s jawline. If Fenris did decide to pursue this, the two of them would be able to handle what came their way easily. They were both skilled fighters, and if they were both serious about the potential relationship here then there would not be anything that got in their way. “We can work through our obstacles together.. if that is something you want.” 

Fenris flicked his tongue out to wet his lips, nervously, though he was unable to tear his eyes away from Carver’s. Work their problems out… it was certainly a novel idea, though he didn’t know if they would be able to do it. Even if Carver could take care of himself, Fenris would feal nothing but guilt if anything happened to the Templar. Besides, the idea of a relationship almost frightened him, in a way. The thought had been heavy on his mind, wondering whether or not he’d be able to be with someone.

“I’d- I’d like that.” His voice was soft, almost as though he were afraid to confess the words. No doubt there would be plenty of obstacles in his path. He had already ruined one relationship, and he certainly didn’t wish to ruin another one. It seemed daunting, the idea of being with someone- though Fenris was certain that they would be able to work through any problems. He smiled, and flicked his eyes down to Carver’s lips, before pressing them against his in a passionate kiss, almost as though sealing his desires.

ooc;; I’m sorrrryyyyy

For not being more active. This week is midterms week, so I’m super buckling down. I’ll be done by Thursday night, but my brain might be too fried to reply. When I get more motivation I’ll totally respond, though, I promise. c:

Fighting for Truth

cutmylifeintojustice:

Stirring a little, Anders opened his eyes slightly. He could feel Fenris’ hands, or rather, the cloth that was separating their skin from touching. Not wanting to lift his head up and startle him, Anders continued to lay there with his eyes closed. He wasn’t fully conscious yet, but he had almost a giddy sensation. He felt like he was being babied, but he wasn’t complaining. Fenris put down the rag and suggested that he relocate himself. But he didn’t budge. Fenris, annoyed, walked back over to Anders and stared at his face, hovering over his ‘sleeping’ body. Anders couldn’t hold back a smile and grinned like crazy, trying hard not to chuckle. Ths elf muttered something in a tongue Anders did not recognize and kicked the leg of his chair. Hard. Losing his balance, the mage leaned over too much and fell over. His eyes now opened, he looked at Fenris, who was towering over him, looking down. Was that…a smile? Anders thought to himself as he got to his feet. He shoved a finger into the elf’s armor accusingly, “That was dangerous. I could have been hurt!” But the warrior just rolled his eyes, and batted Anders’ hand away.

Mimicking him, Anders rolled his eyes as well. “You know you like it when I touch you.” 

Anders, having the height advantage, was staring down at Fenris, who’s body was in a close proximity to his. Fenris was of course, attempting to avoid eye-contact, but after about a minute of just standing there, making the warrior feel uncomfortable, Fenris looked up at him, his green eyes meeting Anders darker ones. 

“I have a question for you, elf.” Anders said mockingly. A pause, and then he added, “Well, two questions. One, why are you being so, nice and gentle lately? Is there something you want to tell me?” The mage touched the other man’s hand, in an attempt to lock fingers with him. Fenris caught on quickly and shoved his hand away. Taking a step back, Anders grabbed his wrist, pulling him back in to face him. “You didn’t answer my first question. But, here is my second question. Why are you still here?”

Fenris had never assumed that he was being nice or gentle. There was a certain tenderness to his ministrations, though it was fleeting, and Fenris was sure that he hadn’t even noticed. It seemed the mage had been able to catch onto the way he seemed softer around him, and the thought caused Fenris to fluster. It had taken a while, but the elf had slowly come to warm up to him, so he saw no reason for him to remain aloof as he had.

“Your questions are asinine. Release me.” There was no way he would be willing to admit that he didn’t hate Anders as much as he had previously. He grunted as Anders caught his wrist once more and he attempted to pull it away, though he was unable to. The elf remained there, standing, staring up at Anders defiantly. His second question caught him off guard- there was a look of shock that played across his face, though he was quick enough to remove it.

“Why am I here?” The words were spoken carefully, slowlly, each syllable rolling off his tongue. “Why am I here?” More emphasis on the words, as though he were fully trying to understand them. It was a question he had asked himself many times as he remained within the clinic, attempting to understand just why he hadn’t left. There were excuses, to be sure, things he told himself when he fell asleep at night to allow the nagging guilt to go away. But then there was the true reason, the real excuse for him remaining there.

Fenris was silent, though he stared up at Anders, body tense- when one of his hands grabbed Anders by the back of the throat and pushed his face down until their lips were pressing together, Fenris finally snapping his hand from Anders’ grip, using the now-released appendage to trail his fingers down the mage’s chest, grabbing a swath of his robes and holding him close.

Venhedis!: Restless Soul

andrastianarcher:

fistoflyrium:

[ooc;; CHANTRY BROS 4EVA]

Fenris certainly didn’t know whether or not he was playing ‘right’. It seemed as though there was no correct way to pray, so long as you were intent on your desire to speak with the Maker. His pose was inconspicuous enough, mimicing those around him, though his bone-white hair certainly drew attention. In the light of the day the glowing of his lyrium lines was less noticeable and allowed him for some sort of secrecy within the Chantry, but he was certain the ladies who attended the Chantry would be gossiping none the less. They had seen him around, out with Hawke, though little else about him was made aware to the matrons of Hightown, lest they see it fit to use him as the subject of their latest gossip.

He remained there with his head bowed, speaking a soft prayer until he lulled himself into a sense of repose, thinking only of the prayers in his mind. They were erratic, string of thought ideas that he expressed, asking not for an outright answer but for guidance- from what he understood the Maker did not have a hand in the affairs of men, choosing instead to watch from above and occasionally council. There was certainly a litany of sins for Fenris to choose them, though he found no salve for the bitterness in his soul.

Vaguely, he was aware of someone settling down on the seat next to him, though he gave it no attention other than the passing curiosity of who would be brave enough to side next to him. Docile as he was when it came to those who did not deserve death, he knew his appearance intimidated people, so the soft creaking of the bench drew his curiosity. After a while it settled down and he returned once more to his meditation, focused entirely on his thoughts.

It was when he heard Sebastian’s voice that his body gave a jolt, he very nearly jumping up at the sudden intrusion to his thoughts. The brogue alerted him to who his companion was before he even opened his eyes, though he did feel a stark sinking in his stomach as he realized that he’d been caught praying, of all things. Fenris had no qualms against others taking part in the action, though he preferred that no one else knew that he was intent on trying it. 

“There’s no need for that,” Fenris insisted, his voice low under his breath. It was unsettling, finding himself caught by Sebastian. With nowhere to run, he remained sitting on the  bench, though he pulled his hands and let them rest on his legs. “I wasn’t- doing anything. I was just thinking.” As always, he found himself struggling to come up with an excuse.

No laughter escaped Sebastian, nor did the slightest, condescending sliver of a sneer form on his lips when Fenris suddenly became defensive. The elf was tactful at concealing emotion through spite, but the fact that he was lying through his teeth didn’t get past Sebastian for a second. But he wasn’t about to let it be known to Fenris, though. His eyes finally fluttered open, and he settled into a more relaxed posture, forearms sinking forward to settle onto the back of the pew in front of them. All the while, his eyes settled upon the towering statue of Andraste at the opposite end of the room. “Thinking, hmm? Well, this is definitely a better place to allow one’s thoughts to ruminate. Despite the roominess and the occasional big groups of people, it can still be rather tranquil.”

And speaking of “groups of people”… Sebastian’s eyes faltered from their point, and noticed the small collections of two or three people in almost every corner, dotted about, staring daggers in their direction, whispering in low tones, heads inclined as their mouths moved rapidly, seemingly without stopping for even a breath. The friendly, peaceful smile that had been lingering on his lips suddenly tightened into a thin, somber line. “Do not heed their words, or their stares. While I pray to my Maker that my fellows become more accepting of those not always apt to follow the words of the Creator, they fail to understand that not all are born with such knowledge—nor, do they always desire it, which is perfectly their right, and He understands this.”

At this point, Sebastian chanced to shoot a sidelong glance at his companion, before resolutely deciding to turn to him fully, shifting his weight slightly so that one arm was leaning fully against the length of the pew before him. He caught the surprised looks of a few fellows nearby as he leaned into Fenris. “Should your thoughts become too burdensome for you to carry them alone, know that I shall be here to hear confession—or simply a friend, to hear your thoughts. Whatever you desire. If not…I am thankful, that you took to my suggestions, at least.” 

The lack of haughtiness in Sebastian’s voice allowed Fenris to settle somewhat, finding that he was no longer so concerned about being seated next to his friend. Of all the people who could have caught him within the Chantry, he was pleased that it had been Sebastian. The others, he knew, would have taken the opportunity to mock him, perhaps slipping in a joke or two when they traveled together. Sebastian was a truthful man; Fenris’ secret would remain in the dark.

It was when Sebastian’s eyes trailed over towards the groups of people huddled in the corners that Fenris found his eyes wavering as well. For a moment, he had been calm, and found the eyes that bore into his back did little to bother him. Now that he was suddenly aware once more of the many striking gazes that followed after him, he became self concious, shifting uncomfortably on the bench. Having Sebastian settle in next to him only seemed to encourage their wagging tongues, drove them to make even wilder accusations.

It was the Chantry Brother’s words that managed to calm Fenris down somewhat. To the elf, they would have rang hollow if spoken by anyone else- but there was a certain sincerity to Sebastian that allowed him to believe that he was being truthful. His offer caused Fenris to turn his head back towards him, a faint look of shock playing across his face. A confession; he hadn’t considered giving one. The thought had crossed his mind once, when Sebastian had offered it, though the idea was fleeting and soon left his mind.

“I have nothing to confess. I simply needed a place to sort my thoughts.” Although his mansion would allow him to do that. If not, he could probably find some secluded corner of Kirkwall to sit in and think about the past few weeks. Instead, his feet had taken him to the Chantry, and before he knew it he had been seated in one of the pews. It was… strange, being surrounded by the idols of a prophet he knew nothing of. Not uncomfortable, mind you, Fenris had no problem with any god that demanded the locking up of mages.

Fenris remained in silence, shifting in his seat once more, focusing his gaze downwards towards his toes. “You-” he cut himself off and cleared his throat. Talking was… indeed strange. He was never an eloquent man, and he found there hadn’t been that many people willing to listen to his past. “You mentioned something while we were out with Hawke, once. Something about- not being responsible for carrying orders that were forced upon you.”

Fighting for Truth

cutmylifeintojustice:

Several Weeks Later…

It wasn’t unlike Anders to fall asleep on the job. Most days were quiet, with the occasional patient would would stop by with a rash or large cut. But today was an unusual day. One of the Undercity gangs decided it would be a good idea to raid a group of apartments, and injure innocent men, woman, and children. He had more than a dozen people in his clinic that night, and he frantically tried as fast as he could to get to everyone. 

This episode was a bit different than he’d ever had before. Mostly, it was because he had help. 

No, it wasn’t Hawke. She was busy with Aveline and Merrill, who were attempting to track down the gang members who committed this atrocity. 

It wasn’t Varric, who occationally dropped on by to say hi and tell a story or two.

And it was definitely not Sebastian, who avoided Anders like the plague.

No, it was someone Anders in the many years that he’s lived in Kirkwall, would have never even guessed would help him in any situation.

It was Fenris. 

He couldn’t help magically of course, but he seemed to patched up the minor injuries very well. He even held a crying baby while Anders healed her mother. The image was extraordinarily amusing to Anders, but in this situation, he didn’t dare smile.

But it was odd to Anders. Ever since he had healed his new…friend?…a few weeks ago, he’s been hanging around the clinic, claiming that he hadn’t been fully recovered yet (but of course he blamed Anders shoddy healing). 

On the outside, he knows that Fenris is probably not fully healed yet, especially since he can only manage to limp around, and his arm was still in a sling. But in the back of his mind, he thinks it might be for another reason. Was he spying for someone? Was he doing this to get an upper hand on something?

But after pushing those thoughts aside, he knew that in all, he was actually enjoying his company. They’ve gotten to know each other a bit more. He had learned a few things about him and his past, and Anders shared a few things himself. But he still kept his distance, feeling a strange line parting their would-be friendship in half.

This is what Anders was thinking about when he dozed off while mixing ingredients on his small desk. There were only a hand full of people still left with minor injuries. The others either went home carried by family members, or in body bags. There had been the death of a small child. The only thing that Fenris and Anders could do at the point where they brought in their bleeding child was comfort them as their child died in their arms.

So Anders had an excuse to drift off, even if it meant spilling the contents of the two vials everywhere. 

At this point, he almost wished the liquids pouring on his hands would somehow put him out of this miserable hell hole. 

He awoke when he felt a cool hand upon his bare arm. 

Three weeks. It’d been three weeks, and Fenris still hadn’t left the clinic. At this point he would have no trouble getting himself back to his mansion in Hightown. It wasn’t terribly far, and although he couldn’t weild his blade with only one hand, he was confident that so long as he moved during the day then there wouldn’t be much for him to worry about. Besides of which there had been plenty of visits by their own companions, and he was sure that he could make up some excuse to wander back to Hightown with them. Still, he remained within the clinic, helping out where he could.

By no means did Fenris actually care about Anders. It simply seemed… like the right thing to do. While he could obsess over mages and slavers in the peace of his quiet mansion, down here he was always surrounded by the sick and the dying, left with no choice but to remain there and wait for the cool embrace of death to take them. Fenris was stern, he was abrasive, but by no means was he cruel.

The silence between them had been suffocating at first. They had avoided each other, refrained from using names, attempting their hardest to try to ignore that they were with someone they hated. Short glances, shared across the room was the only way they let the other know they needed assistance, though their working together was always fleeting and quick. The only area where Fenris relented was when Anders he insisted they share a room, the mage not allowing himself to remove his eyes from the ex-slave.

Eventually, they found themselves forced to talk, and Fenris found himself painfully aware of the plight that Anders was fighting. Mages, to be sure, were dangerous- but there were those that would be unfairly locked up, who were better off helping out where they could be with other people. Though Fenris could not agree to Anders’ decision to allow Justice to remain inside him, Fenris was otherwise supportive of the mage’s actions.

Taking pleasure in a mage’s company was certainly not what Fenris had expected. There was Neve, to be sure, though their relationship was… odd, to put it lightly, and Fenris would rather not label it in a way that would tie him down later. So, he pushed away the thoughts, and instead focused on helping out Anders instead.

The peace that lingered within the clinic was welcome. It wasn’t often that Fenris was allowed a moment to himself; though he did not take it. Instead, he walked into the small, sectioned off area where the two of them slept, only to find Anders sleeping rather peacefully. Sleep was rare for the mage, and Fenris was tempted to let him rest, though when he spotted the spilled contents of the vials Fenris knew he couldn’t just let him remain there. 

Wandering over towards the apostate, he placed his hand on his arm in order to wake him. “Whatever is in those vials can not be good for your hands.” His own hands went towards the vials and set them upright, he grabbing a rag from the table. One of his hands took Anders’ in his own and he worked carefully, dilligently removing the liquid from his fingers. Once satisfied with his own, he moved to Anders’ other hand, brushing off the rest of the potions.

“If you wish to sleep, I’d reccomend the bed.” A smile crossed his lips; it was faint, but it was there.