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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Sometimes Fenris was grateful he couldn't actually read, so he didn't have to be inflicted by Isabela's 'friend-fiction'. "No, perhaps we shouldn't encourage her there." Truth was, she didn't need much encouragement.

"Sounds just like home," he deadpanned. Yes, a joke from Fenris. Though given the state of Danarius' mansion, it wasn't too far from the truth. "No, I have not secured accommodation yet." He was prepared to sleep wherever was necessary. "Thank you." It was quiet, but it was there.

He knew under the broody exterior there was a shred of humor- one had to have some to hold Isabella's interest or be able to stand Varric. Or Hawke. Or endure that which had been done to him- honestly if he didn't have one? Zevran would think him some manner of golem. He snorted a faint laugh and patted- ever so lightly, the armored gauntlet nearest to him.

Skin to skin was a touchy subject with anyone, let alone someone that had been a slave. Doubly so for someone with lyrium burned into them. "Think nothing of it. Consider it belated repayment for helping me with the Crows, yes?"

Without a sense of humor, Fenris would have left Hawke and the others for dust long ago. But he felt a comradeship with them, and to a lesser extent, he felt it with Zevran. At least the beginnings of it.

He tried not to flinch at the contact, and mostly succeeded. He would always be sensitive to touch. "Somewhat belated, but yes," he said, amused at the thought. "I'd forgotten we'd helped with that at all."

Slow gestures in the future, Zevran noted. Slower and lighter. He had his own issues, heavily buried- Fenris never felt the need to do anything but wear them on his skin. Some small part of him would always envy him that honesty.

"Considering everything else you had your hands in?" Ha, fisting joke, they will never get old. "I am not terribly surprised.

He never saw the need to hide what he was. He wasn't currying for favour. If people didn't like him, or understand him, that was their problem, not his.

He gave Zevran a small look - he was used to the innuendo, after all - then shook his head a little. "Kirkwall was lively."

A familiar and comfortable look, even if Fenris wasn't someone that was around often enough for him to be the bearer of said look, but Zevran was certain they'd be around one another enough for it to become terribly familiar.

"A little more than most if Varric's book was anything to go by."

He wouldn't know - he hadn't read Varric's book, given his lack of reading ability. Not that he was going to tell Zevran that.

"Knowing Varric, he over-exaggerated everything three-fold."

"Knowing Varric I wouldn't be surprised if it was tenfold. He does have a flair for the dramatic and, I imagine, he will be pleased to see you." Wherever he is wandering about.

"He is here then? I had heard that, but for him to be voluntarily with the Inquisition...?" He'd heard about the capture by the Seeker. He was surprised Varric would follow her.

"I am not certain how 'voluntary' it is, but his voice is one of the few of reason we have in Skyhold." And for that? He had Zevran's honest appreciation. Tensions were ready to boil over already.

Given the mages, the Templar and others here, it was like a virtual powderkeg, waiting to explode. A voice of reason was welcome, and he wasn't actually surprised that it was Varric. He seemed to be in part the glue that kept their mad-cap band together in Kirkwall as much as Hawke. "Well, it's good he's here in that case. Few can spin a tale like him."

Thank goodness.

"He has done quite a bit of that in the interest of keeping the peace. I have never seen quite his equal in that. Normally walking into an argument and saying-" He slipped into a passable imitation of Varric's voice, here "'You've got to be shitting me, what do you mean this IS the good ale' would not cause those arguing to stop."

A low chuckle from Fenris. It truly was an accurate impression of Varric. "Though I think his taste in ale is suspect anyway. He seemed to like what was on offer in Kirkwall." Though the Ferelden ale here was truly terrible.

"What do you expect? He is a dwarf. A fine and civilized one, but a dwarf still has the taste of lichen ale in their blood." Or at least that was what Oghren said they made their ale of, but he wasn't the most reliable source in the slightest.

That got a snort of laughter from Fenris. "That's what it is, is it? I was not aware you were so intimately acquainted with our dwarven brethren." Though he didn't know all that much about Zevran, not really, other than what Isabela told him.

"I spent the better part of a year traveling with a dwarven berzerker from Orzammar. IT was...educational." That was the kindest way to put it.

Fenris grunted once with a short laugh at that. "I can imagine. I've only really known surface dwarves, but an actual berzerker... I don't envy you."

"He was a great drunk and a fair hand in combat. Told horrible jokes. Smelled awful. I miss him, sometimes, whenever we pass a particularly gaseous corpse." Ah, the sights and smells of oghren.

"I think I will stick to the company of Varric. At least he smells better by the sounds of it." And he knew a decent drink when he saw it, and knew how to fire that crossbow of his. "He seems more acceptable."

Definitely not a Dalish...

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