[ The gravity of the difficult task ahead hits Fenris straight away. If Anders being dead made this harder than being alive he's sure the mage would have kicked it. The continuing trend of Anders making his life harder is a consistent one.
His exhale is sharp. He carries around a great sword taller than himself, so in theory carrying him back to the hotel shouldn't be impossible. But Anders is obviously in pain, he might thrash, and Fenris can't have the wind touching him without it burning through his veins. Not to mention, he's already carrying something taller than himself.
Fenris won't waste anymore time, and he won't worry much about being gentle, or they'll be wandering these cursed streets forever, which is awful enough. As much as he hates shoes, as much pain as they cause him, elves feel through their feet, and this entire city feels wrong.
He kneels down carefully enough so his sword doesn't get in the way, grabbing one of Anders' arms to put around his shoulder — fucking wings, fucking sword, fucking markings. He grunts, ignoring his own pain, as he begins to lift him up, his other arm going around the mage's waist to keep him up as much as possible. All Fenris had done was tap him...this is going to be uncomfortable for both of them it seems. ]
—Move your legs at least a little.
[ Even if he has to drag them, give him something! ]
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His exhale is sharp. He carries around a great sword taller than himself, so in theory carrying him back to the hotel shouldn't be impossible. But Anders is obviously in pain, he might thrash, and Fenris can't have the wind touching him without it burning through his veins. Not to mention, he's already carrying something taller than himself.
Fenris won't waste anymore time, and he won't worry much about being gentle, or they'll be wandering these cursed streets forever, which is awful enough. As much as he hates shoes, as much pain as they cause him, elves feel through their feet, and this entire city feels wrong.
He kneels down carefully enough so his sword doesn't get in the way, grabbing one of Anders' arms to put around his shoulder — fucking wings, fucking sword, fucking markings. He grunts, ignoring his own pain, as he begins to lift him up, his other arm going around the mage's waist to keep him up as much as possible. All Fenris had done was tap him...this is going to be uncomfortable for both of them it seems. ]
—Move your legs at least a little.
[ Even if he has to drag them, give him something! ]