[He says it almost absently, his focus on the mark. At his side, his fingers curl as he fights the urge to touch. There's no doubt about it: it looks like a mark of the Fade. And though Fenris has never met the Inquisitor, he doesn't need to have seen their markings himself to know the similarity.
(He notices those nails, too. Thicker and sharper than an elf's ever usually grows; in truth, they remind him more of qunari nails than anything. And those fangs peeking out, those crimson eyes that glitter in the darkness . . . but the elf doesn't look half-Qunari, not beyond those features. A mystery that does not yet need to solved, but he notes those traits all the same).
His eyes flick up, and he adds:]
Where did you—
[But behind him, the Veil has decided it's waited long enough. Power surges through the air, eerie crackling leaving his teeth and his lyrium both buzzing; with a grunt, Fenris rises to his feet.]
There will be time for questions later. Come, if you wish— or run if you don't. But it will not be long before another wave comes, and I cannot fight them forever. And given I have no means to close these things . . .
[He glances at Astarion's hand again— but if the elf is half as bewildered as Fenris feels, he doesn't either.]
no subject
[He says it almost absently, his focus on the mark. At his side, his fingers curl as he fights the urge to touch. There's no doubt about it: it looks like a mark of the Fade. And though Fenris has never met the Inquisitor, he doesn't need to have seen their markings himself to know the similarity.
(He notices those nails, too. Thicker and sharper than an elf's ever usually grows; in truth, they remind him more of qunari nails than anything. And those fangs peeking out, those crimson eyes that glitter in the darkness . . . but the elf doesn't look half-Qunari, not beyond those features. A mystery that does not yet need to solved, but he notes those traits all the same).
His eyes flick up, and he adds:]
Where did you—
[But behind him, the Veil has decided it's waited long enough. Power surges through the air, eerie crackling leaving his teeth and his lyrium both buzzing; with a grunt, Fenris rises to his feet.]
There will be time for questions later. Come, if you wish— or run if you don't. But it will not be long before another wave comes, and I cannot fight them forever. And given I have no means to close these things . . .
[He glances at Astarion's hand again— but if the elf is half as bewildered as Fenris feels, he doesn't either.]
Make your choice swiftly.