faderift | Definitely not a Dalish...

WHO: Fenris and whomever
WHAT: An elf that is so far from Dalish as it's possible to be arrives in Skyhold
WHEN: Late Harvestmere
WHERE: Around Skyhold, heading to the Herald's Rest
NOTES: Open to all - he's just arrived, feel free to grab him - he'll be heading for the booze as fast as possible

He'd taken a circuitous route to get here, chasing down a particularly nasty slaver troupe that he'd run across previously, but had been too heavily guarded before. This time, only two armed guards had made it easy.

A lot of people were heading back to their homes once more. He didn't care about that, not really. All he cared was that Tevinter wasn't getting it's latest shipment of slaves. But it was something one of the slavers said as he tried to beg for his life that had caught Fenris' attention - that Tevinter Magisters were seen at the Inquistion. It was what had sent him scurrying there as fast as he could. Magisters trying to infiltrate something that had set itself up for good could only go one way, and frankly, it would be easy pickings.

Of course, he knew he would be recognizable to them. Danarius had paraded him about too often for him not to be known, Still, it was a calculated risk. Besides, he'd heard Isabela and Varric were there. People he could trust.

It was vast, he realized as he joined the crowds of refugees pouring into Skyhold. A vast fortress up in the mountains. What better place to launch an invasion of either Orlais or Ferelden from. At least he could see why the Magisters were drawn here.

[ooc I'm heading to bed with a migraine, but I'll get these in the morning.]

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He'd learned to deal with it, mostly with partners who were sympathetic to it - Isabela, mostly. For all her faults, she had been good for Fenris.

He still didn't understand this whole other world scenario. The rifts had completely gone mad was about what he got. Still. This other person was drinking - he at least had good tastes. "Tevinter, originally." An elf from Tevinter could only be one thing, and he was curious about the response.

When Fenris mentioned Tevinter, Dante was, more or less, confused. There didn't seem to be a spark of recognition there, not for the things that typically happen in the country his drinking companion mentioned or for the country itself if he was being honest. He shook his head a bit and flapped a hand, "wait, wait, wait...okay so I've met one elf who said he was from Antiva, and several others that said they were Dalish...I think I got that right...and you're from this Tevinter place. So what exactly is the difference?"

What? He can't help being ignorant.

Well, the Antivan elf was obviously Zevran. The Dalish... he'd try his best to avoid. He wasn't exactly keen on the Dalish as a group. "Have you never heard of different nations?" he asked, a little bit contemptuously. "Does your world not have them? Though the Dalish are nomads, not from any one nation."

"Hey, smart ass," the little bit of contempt was punctuated with a little bit of an elbow nudge against Fenris's arm, "I took geography. You weren't allowed out of Elementary School prison until you got the basics...though I guess that depends on how you mean it...but that would be going into grammar and I'm even worse at grammar. I come from the United States of America...I guess you could call it a nation...at least it is often referred to as," and here is where it gets a little theatrical, with an almost riotous lilt to his voice as if in mocking, hand over his heart, "one nation under God...blah, blah, blah...with liberty and justice for all. Give me your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. So, I've never heard of Antiva or Tev-whatever."

"I have never heard of your united states of America," he pointed out. "And there are a lot more people here from Antiva, Tevinter, Ferelden, Orlais than there are from your united... whatever."

Really? This person wanted to talk about grammar, and whatever elementary school was? He was an odd one. If there hadn't been alcohol, Fenris just would have left, but he really wanted that drink.

"Well that makes us even, doesn't it?" As he'd never heard of Tevinter or any of these other places for that matter, "heh...count yourself lucky 400 million people didn't come falling out of that green hole in the sky. You'd have more than just a population problem...especially you."

Hey, elementary school was traumatic for him, there were demons and he was on the assassination list. Some issues just had to be discussed, not left to sit and fester, come on Fenris, do a man a solid!

"Well, given you are in my world, no, I think we can never be even." In Fenris' favor, of course. "Me? As long as they live and let live, I would have no trouble." It's the ones who wanted to take advantage of others that Fenris had the problems with.

"Now I can't tell if you're being contrary for the sake of being contrary, or if that in some way makes you better than me," not that Dante seemed bothered either way, but still, "I doubt it, there are too many fangirls to count, you'd have a huge following of worshippers in spite of yourself."

"Good." He liked not being able to be read. It was far much more fun this way.

"Why would I want worshippers? Only bad things can come of that." He was half convinced that the Magisters wanted people to worship them, which was why they acted like they did. No good things could come of worshipping anyone.

"You're a funny man," and for that Fenris has earned himself an additional drink, because above all things Dante enjoyed funny.

"Oh no, no. Not that kind of worshiper...no...the kind I mean are the ones that steal your clothing when you're not looking , follow you around covertly, and erect these creepy little shrines dedicated to you made up of things of yours that they've accumulated, pictures, and voodoo...just a little creepy. We call these worshipers...fangirls...and fanboys," and Dante considers himself lucky in that he is now in a world without this particular type of worship.

Well. That's the first time he's been called 'funny'. He must be talking about someone else. Though the drink, he'll take.

"And the difference is?" Because let us face it, sometimes those worshippers are not far removed from those who worship, well, anything. Be it the Maker, or a Magister. "Though... voodoo?"

There's a first time for everything and Dante has an unusual sense of humor.

"It's hard to attach a word to it, but you'd recognize it as being different from other kinds of worship immediately," it's recognizable, but indescribable, that was perhaps the main way in which the two were different. Normal worshiping was easy to recognize and label, even the slavish kind of worship. This was a beast on its own island, "a kind of magic, culture, religion...thing...I think their love spells involve sacrificial chickens, but I'm not sure."

That got an incredulous look from Fenris. "Why would anyone want to sacrifice chickens?" Eating them was one thing, but... sacrificial chickens?

He was naturally inclined against it as soon as magic was mentioned though.

Definitely not a Dalish...

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