I stay away from red lyrium, and in that way, my own stays uncorrupted.
[He thinks. He hopes. He has no real idea, frankly, and trust that such thoughts have been the source of so many nightmares. Fenris pushes that thought away; instead, he focuses himself more on the elf in front of him. There's such a desperate hunger in his face right now, lean and starved and needy. He listens to Fenris' tale without flinching nor growing uncomfortable with misplaced pity, watching him so earnestly that you might almost mistake it for a discomfiting interest . . .
If you did not know, perhaps, what it is to yearn for validation. To seek understanding through another's pain . . . and Fenris will not assume. But he wonders quietly, and that is enough.]
I . . . will not claim to know what it would do to the marking on your hand. Lyrium and the Fade go hand in hand, so to speak— it's why, I suspect, it stung so badly when I touched your marking. But I do not think you have quite so much to fear as I do. And either way: it is an easy substance to avoid, for it is obvious enough.
[And then, quietly, his eyes focused on that desperately hungry expression:]
If you stay with me beyond tonight, and choose to join me on the journey to Kirkwall . . . I will point out some as we pass, so you might know it and avoid it.
no subject
[He thinks. He hopes. He has no real idea, frankly, and trust that such thoughts have been the source of so many nightmares. Fenris pushes that thought away; instead, he focuses himself more on the elf in front of him. There's such a desperate hunger in his face right now, lean and starved and needy. He listens to Fenris' tale without flinching nor growing uncomfortable with misplaced pity, watching him so earnestly that you might almost mistake it for a discomfiting interest . . .
If you did not know, perhaps, what it is to yearn for validation. To seek understanding through another's pain . . . and Fenris will not assume. But he wonders quietly, and that is enough.]
I . . . will not claim to know what it would do to the marking on your hand. Lyrium and the Fade go hand in hand, so to speak— it's why, I suspect, it stung so badly when I touched your marking. But I do not think you have quite so much to fear as I do. And either way: it is an easy substance to avoid, for it is obvious enough.
[And then, quietly, his eyes focused on that desperately hungry expression:]
If you stay with me beyond tonight, and choose to join me on the journey to Kirkwall . . . I will point out some as we pass, so you might know it and avoid it.