In truth, he nearly makes it on the fourth evening. Drunk on sour wine, he sways as he makes his way down, down, down, all the way to Lowtown, muscle memory guiding him far more than any coherence. The streets are emptier than they used to be, but that only gives him more time to remember who isn't filling them.
There: Hawke's mansion, her sigil faded and worn, ivy growing over the doorway. Does Gamlen live there? Fenris doesn't know and doesn't care to find out, for he will hate it either way. There: a blue lantern glowing outside a Lowtown doorway as a dark-haired elf ushers in her pregnant companion, whispering in relief that a healer is still open this late. There: the outline of a man carved in wood hanging upside down and swaying in the breeze . . .
And he never quite makes it past the Hanged Man.
But the next day, the entirety of Riftwatch is a flurry of activity, Rifters and natives alike gathering for a mission out west. No one notices nor cares that Fenris slips inside and lingers there past sunset; they certainly don't pay him any mind as he strides purposely towards where they house the Rifters, acting as if he has every right to be there past curfew.
It doesn't take long to find Astarion.
(They always find each other in the end).]
Astarion?
[Soft, his knuckles gentle as he raps at his door. Just because he hasn't been bothered so far doesn't mean he wants to draw attention to himself.]
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In truth, he nearly makes it on the fourth evening. Drunk on sour wine, he sways as he makes his way down, down, down, all the way to Lowtown, muscle memory guiding him far more than any coherence. The streets are emptier than they used to be, but that only gives him more time to remember who isn't filling them.
There: Hawke's mansion, her sigil faded and worn, ivy growing over the doorway. Does Gamlen live there? Fenris doesn't know and doesn't care to find out, for he will hate it either way. There: a blue lantern glowing outside a Lowtown doorway as a dark-haired elf ushers in her pregnant companion, whispering in relief that a healer is still open this late. There: the outline of a man carved in wood hanging upside down and swaying in the breeze . . .
And he never quite makes it past the Hanged Man.
But the next day, the entirety of Riftwatch is a flurry of activity, Rifters and natives alike gathering for a mission out west. No one notices nor cares that Fenris slips inside and lingers there past sunset; they certainly don't pay him any mind as he strides purposely towards where they house the Rifters, acting as if he has every right to be there past curfew.
It doesn't take long to find Astarion.
(They always find each other in the end).]
Astarion?
[Soft, his knuckles gentle as he raps at his door. Just because he hasn't been bothered so far doesn't mean he wants to draw attention to himself.]