[Oh, and for a moment, everything in Fenris rears up in protest. No, that's not what I meant, that's too much, his objections based far more in rationalized instinct than any real thought. Antiva is a world away, and they'd only just gotten to Kirkwall, and anyway, he has—
But what does he have here?
A city full of ghosts. An organization that couldn't care less if he died (for what organization anywhere truly cares about its members?). An aching heart and a run-down mansion more suited for stray cats and well-bred rats than a real person. What does Kirkwall have that Antiva or Orlais doesn't?
And the thought of going together— traveling as they had a few nights ago, letting their feet take them where they will and knowing that they are beholden to no one but themselves— feels like a breath of fresh air among the suffocating weight of Kirkwall and her horrors.]
Antiva.
[He answers a little distantly, some part of his mind still struggling to catch up— but the more he speaks, the easier it gets.]
No place in this world is particularly kind to elves, but Antiva is more so. They're a nation of merchants, with an emphasis on piracy. I had a friend from near there once . . . and I trusted her, thief that she was, more than anyone else.
[He wonders where Isabela is right now, and then dismisses the thought swiftly. Glancing over just once at Astarion, Fenris allows the slightest of smiles to creep over his lips, something like excitement beginning to flutter in the pit of his stomach.]
We can travel through the Free Marches. It will not be too hard to avoid the armies, I suspect; the war hasn't reached that part of the continent just yet. And Rivian is nearby, too . . . that might be an option before Orlais if you tire of Antiva swiftly.
[A beat, and then:]
You truly wish to go?
[With me being the quietest addition, silent and yet not unsubtle.]
no subject
But what does he have here?
A city full of ghosts. An organization that couldn't care less if he died (for what organization anywhere truly cares about its members?). An aching heart and a run-down mansion more suited for stray cats and well-bred rats than a real person. What does Kirkwall have that Antiva or Orlais doesn't?
And the thought of going together— traveling as they had a few nights ago, letting their feet take them where they will and knowing that they are beholden to no one but themselves— feels like a breath of fresh air among the suffocating weight of Kirkwall and her horrors.]
Antiva.
[He answers a little distantly, some part of his mind still struggling to catch up— but the more he speaks, the easier it gets.]
No place in this world is particularly kind to elves, but Antiva is more so. They're a nation of merchants, with an emphasis on piracy. I had a friend from near there once . . . and I trusted her, thief that she was, more than anyone else.
[He wonders where Isabela is right now, and then dismisses the thought swiftly. Glancing over just once at Astarion, Fenris allows the slightest of smiles to creep over his lips, something like excitement beginning to flutter in the pit of his stomach.]
We can travel through the Free Marches. It will not be too hard to avoid the armies, I suspect; the war hasn't reached that part of the continent just yet. And Rivian is nearby, too . . . that might be an option before Orlais if you tire of Antiva swiftly.
[A beat, and then:]
You truly wish to go?
[With me being the quietest addition, silent and yet not unsubtle.]