I can't let it end like this. Not— Maker! Not again!
( it's only by some mercy of the gods that he's able to rattle of things in his field of vision between cries of pain — a Hot Dog Prince across the street, a Motel 666 on his left. he's made it about a block away from the seedy, sexy district but he's still downtown and he's still out of his mind with drunkenness and agony. )
If I die here, know that... that you deserve to be cherished by someone.
[ It's a good thing that Fenris is good at memorizing directions, especially given that he has a side job doing deliveries and has made it a point to learn this city the best he can, because otherwise he would constantly be lost between street names and long addresses. Not to mention he tries to learn the words and names that are a constant in his day to day.
He's already standing and grabbing his sword (listen, he never knows what's going to happen with this fool) as he heads out of his room, unsure of how to respond to Anders' drunken babble. He must really be drunk to say such a thing. That or he thinks he's talking to someone else. Idiot. ]
Don't move.
[ He doesn't put the device back in his pocket this time, just in case the mage manages to do something even stupider while Fenris tries to get there. He can't believe he's about to say this, but he has to know if Anders passes out or drops dead- ]
( though it sounds strained and distant, there's a broken chuckle from anders' end. )
You must really think I'm not long for this world to make a request like... like that. And you'd be right. At least, it feels as much.
( dying in the same way twice, blind-sighted from behind. is this purgatory? is that all this place was ever meant to be for them? )
There's a lot of blood, Fenris. My healing— my magic. It's gone. ( there's a silence where he simply wheezes, then he remembers to continue. ) I have to wonder if I ever had it in the first place. If I could ever do any of those things I thought I could, if they were another memory.
Less out of urgency to help and more out of an urgency to put all of this behind him as soon as possible, he's already rushing down the stairs — he has no idea how to work the lifts in this building. He always ends up on the wrong floor and now is hardly the time to mess with buttons.
He wants to tell Anders that his magic certainly existed. But...does he know that to be a sure thing anymore? Not until they figure out exactly what's happening with their memories. ]
I'm afraid to ask.
[ About...any of this. Later. For now, he'll keep talking. Keep getting him to talk, he'll...ignore that last bit at the moment. He keeps his voice even, calm, unaffected. Though try as he might there's a tension that underlines his words. ]
What's happening to you is the nature of this place. It happened to me too. You're not dying.
[ He would have warned him and all, but they haven't been able to hold a conversation longer than three minutes without wanting to kill each other. ]
( he doesn't want to talk. he doesn't want to move. he wants to go back to a time where things made sense. for a moment he sees it, fleeting, when Hawke first made Himself known to him, and there was a world for possibilities spread at their feet. )
...Does that disappoint you? Wouldn't you be more delighted if I were? Dying, that is.
( of all the people to rely upon, he had to be stuck in this world with no one who knows him but fenris. fenris... )
Your name, it suits you better.
...I hardly even remember mine. I know it's not Anders, but I can't recall the person I was before that. Perhaps they'll remind me in the Fade.
But yours is good. Both of yours. Fenris and Leto.
[ The unaffected facade, as it turns out, is not as powerful as he thought. He could have easily responded to such a heavy question at first, if he would have been delighted by Anders' death — no matter what answer he would have given. But then the damn mage keeps going, and Fenris feels something twist in his stomach.
He sputters something, jumbled words as if he were the drunk one. This is a lot to respond to, to listen to, all at once while he's practically running out of the hotel, breath getting heavy. ]
You — [ Maker's balls what does he say to any of this? ] I don't...wish you dead.
[ It's a good thing he's fast and the area he thinks Anders is in isn't very far. His mind goes a mile a minute but his ability to speak leaves him completely...at least for now, but he'll keep encouraging Anders to speak if he stops, focusing on getting there.
As soon as he gets to the street Anders had described he starts calling for him as he looks around. ]
( were he not in excruciating pain, he may have said something biting in return. fenris may not want him dead, but anders is looking forward to the day he can visit fenris' tombstone so he might knock it over. he doesn't have the strength or the motivation to say that much, and what would it say about him that he his last words in this realm could be so full of hatred and vitriol? is that all he ever was? hatred disguised as integrity?
he doesn't want to think about that.
in fact, he doesn't want to think at all. or breathe, or move, or exist. up until now, he'd been speaking in hardly above a whisper when he wasn't crying out at the pain of it all, but now he's silent. he can hear fenris in the near distance, but to shout back for him feels impossible. )
...Thank you for doing me the kindness of lying.
( because lying to someone about how much you don't want them dead when you totally, absolutely do is a really nice thing, when you think about it.
he sighs out a breath that feels like it might be his last, and with it, some fighting spirit within him sends out an beacon of light. it's faint, what he sends up into the air, but it glows so strangely that it's impossible not to notice. at its source lies a crumpled heap of clothing and feathers that may or may not be anders. his fresh wings are tacky with blood, like newborn's, and the shoulder blades where they stem from are rocky with splintered bone. all over, painful golden patterns crack his skin, not unlike when he's occupied by justice.
despite how horrific it is, this isn't something anders wouldn't be able to heal... except for now. without his magic, he can't do anything. he doesn't know who he is without that connection to the vast beyond, a connection that seems to be failing him.
[ Anders is so strange, but he recognizes the irony of thinking so, while momentarily ignoring the ironies of a few other things. For now, his focus is on finding the bloody mage. Not that it's easy...he stops talking, sighs as if someone let the air out of him, the life out of him, and Fenris begins to wonder if he'll even find him alive.
Then the strange glow grabs his attention. It doesn't take a scholar to figure out that probably has something to do with the mage. Him and glowing go together like—
—like Fenris and glowing, he supposes.
That thought creeps down his spine like a spirit passing through him as he rushes for the source of the glow, struggling to see Anders until he realizes he's under the mess of feathers and clothes.
No...he is the mess of feathers and clothes.
All the urgency from before seems to leave him, creeping closer instead of rushing to his side, taking in the sight of bloody wings — wings that busted out of Anders' back...that explains the screaming. He figured it was...this.
He sighs. Not dead then. ]
Wake up, mage. [ He's still cautious, because it's Anders, nudging one of his legs with his foot. ] Make a sound if you can hear me.
( the last thing anders wants to do is wake up, so he doesn't. he stays there, lump still, breathing shallowly, clean up until fenris bumps him. that sends a bright pain through his body, even if fenris' touch was nowhere near his new wings, because the golden crackle that ripples across his skin feels like fire. in time, it will settle, but right now it's all so overwhelming, he can hardly stand it. )
...kept your word...
( it can hardly be heard, but at least he gives something to let fenris know he isn't completely dead, just what feels like close to it.
[ 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! ]
( it's as if a light switch has turned on behind anders' eyes. with it, he can do things he could never do before. he can feel things he was never meant to feel, see things that aren't his to see.
everything in his body cries out when he's wrenched to his feet, his voice along with them. all at once, fenris has him, and they're moving, and anders feels him as if he's feeling around a cloud, able to sense the world around him in a nebulous way without ever getting a proper grasp.
in this way, fenris has so much more form than he'd ever had before. it's like he's been taken from 2-D to 3-D. anders can't make sense of it. he can't even make sense of the analogy he used to try to make sense of it. )
...you're in pain...
( like anders is. the brands that line fenris' skin are singing out to him, along with other things. fenris is broadcasting so much. were he from this century, he'd compare himself to a newly installed satellite dish picking up signals where previously none existed. all as if it were his own, he feels fenris' annoyance with each step, and his determination to get this over with, and his discomfort— discomfort? what's the cause of that? is it anders' doing? if he could just dig deeper, feel more...
his brain feels like it's going to split in two, but he's placing himself into fenris' body, feeling what he's feeling. he gets something, then. )
...Wait, wait.
( it takes some time for him to stop, and lean against fenris while he peels off what's left of his coat. it's gross, and spotted with blood, and it has a few feathers sticking to it, but he hands it to fenris. )
For your feet. To cover... cover them. From the streets.
[ Fenris ignores Anders' observation, assuming it's obvious in the way he grunts with every little movement, breathing heavy. He's far more focused on getting back to the hotel, thinking of possible shortcuts for the way back that he learned trying to memorize this city. He moves fast enough they won't be out here forever but not so fast they'll both just collapse from pain and exhaustion.
When Anders tries to stop Fenris nearly continues to drag his ass down the block, his grunt is more frustrated in this moment than it is a response to the pain. ]
What are you—
[ His brows knit together in bafflement as Anders pulls off the last bit of his ruined coat and hands it over to him, bloody and torn. He doesn't understand where this is coming from, why he suddenly cares about his barefootedness, but he chalks it up to delirium. ]
How thoughtful, [ he drawls without taking the cloth, and he will begin to move whether the mage is ready or not. ] Worry not about my feet and more about your...everything.
[ He just wants to get back. It's late, they're both vulnerable, and this city is impossible to predict. ]
I'd worry more... if your feet weren't... weren't signing out to me. I—I hear them. They don't like these streets. They want them... gone...
( so, delirium sounds about right.
by now, his glow is so dull it's barely visible. if he'd had his healing, he'd be fine. he be able to fix himself, and whatever discomfort fenris is feeling. he could patch them up with a wave of his hand — literally — but that's not an option anymore. that thought makes him want to lie down and ask fenris to put him out of his misery, but he wouldn't give the elf so much satisfaction.
so he walks, and he saves his strength for putting one foot before the other. it's hard, but it's better to place his energy into walking than trying to focus on the flashes of vision he's perceiving. past and future, events that never happened and events that he'll never forget. it's maddening, and justice isn't even here to help quell the thoughts and keep them at bay. )
[ Fenris' response is merely a grunt, deciding he wasn't going to engage in this insane conversation any longer, even though he's not really wrong.
At least with Anders moving his feet even just a little, Fenris can get them back to the hotel faster. There are several moments along the way where he considers dropping him on someone's doorstep, but no one deserves that fate.
As Fenris gets them inside some of the staff give them concerned stares, but Fenris simply points out that he's drunk and stupid, so they leave them be. That was perhaps a little too easy, but less trouble for him is ideal. This time around he does fiddle with the lift until it gets them to where they need to go. It's another small battle to find Anders' room, search him for his key, and get inside, but he does it, and uses the remainder of his energy to drag this fool's stupid magical ass to his bed. The relieved sigh when Fenris finally sets him down, easing up the pressure against his markings, is palpable. Maker, what a pain in the ass. ]
( if only it could be so easy for fenris, because the moment anders is shucked into his bed, a hand clasps fenris around the wrist before he can get too far away. )
Don't go.
( maker, how pathetic he's become, and so quickly at that. since his death, anders has been on a fast-track to becoming someone he doesn't even recognize, someone who asks about the market board for a 'good time' like a common whore, and begs one of his greatest rivals for help [twice, now]. through it all, though, he believes he wants to survive. he isn't sure how deep that drive runs, but right now, he wants to fight through the pain and see the morning, for some reason or another. why? he doesn't know. but he knows if he spends his night here alone with no one to stop him from acting on his misery and self-pity, he may not live long enough to find out.
unfortunately, none of that comes out even half as coherent. )
[ As Fenris turns to leave, Anders grabs his wrist, causing him to hiss in pain, though it was more from surprise than anything. ]
You're not that easy to be rid of.
[ Here Fenris is, in a completely different land that makes little sense, and Anders still turned up. He doubts the mage will die this easily. Yet, despite his dry response, he doesn't try to leave. He does try to pull his hand away though. That hurts you asshole. ]
( the filter in his mind is gone, apparently, burned away by sour beers and bone-shattering pain. why would he bring up hawke now? why, why, why, why—
fenris' brands hurt, and anders can tell he hurts, somehow, so he lets go. his eyes are closed and his breathing his fitful, but he's still very much alive. )
[ More dramatics, at least that's what he thinks at first as he pulls his wrist back, then Anders drops that explosive poultice on him. He skips over the nonsense about owing him anything — he wants nothing, brows furrowing in confusion. He had come close to asking what Hawke did, he could tell it was something, but... ]
...He what?
[ Anders hadn't even wanted to believe that Hawke would hand Fenris over to his master, despite his claims that the man killed him. Naturally, he assumes Anders did something, but even if that were the case...what could he have possibly done for Hawke to kill him? They were disgustingly inseparable. ]
Why? How?
[ None of this makes sense, but he supposes that's been the theme since their arrival. ]
( who is fenris to ask a thing like that? to witness anders' crimes, stand by hawke's side, and then pretend to be blindsided at the mention of anders' betrayal. if he had the strength to sit up, he might reach out and strangle the damned elf, but he barely has the energy to open his eyes, let alone commit murder. )
You were there...
( ugh.
still, that last bit of emphasis seems to have zapped what little strength he has left, because he stops responding then, and his breath grows slower still. )
[ It's instinctive the way he bites back at Anders — the man makes it difficult not to snap. His arms cross as he scoffs. ]
I would be sure not to forget such an event, trust me.
[ He almost doesn't notice Anders' slowed breathing, because fuck him, but as he awaits a response or further explanation...he can tell something isn't right. A brow quirking, he leans over Anders, hesitating before reaching out to nudge him. ]
Mage?
[ If he dies AFTER he dragged his ass here he'll be furious. ]
( he was so close, but then he's being nudged, and he inhales sharply. he looks up to fenris like he's stolen his favorite cat and tossed her into the ocean. )
What? No, but.... but, hey, perhaps death would be a mercy compared to your mother henning, you doting... dote-y...Dote-Head.
( brand-new sentence that don't make a lick of sense for $500, alex.
anders tries his best to turn away, but the pain from his wings is too bad to making any sort of movement pleasant. he stays where he is instead. )
Either lie on the bed or lie on the floor; it matters little to me. Just don't leave.
( he says it like a demand rather than a pitiful request like that will restore some of his dignity. )
[ he mutters irritably, rolling his eyes and moving away so that he can get this sword off his back, placing it against the wall as he always does. He picks a spot nearby on the floor, sitting with his back against the wall and crossing his arms.
He doesn't intend on getting too comfortable. When Anders drifts off to sleep and seems in deep enough not to wake till morning, he'll slip out. Anders is lucky he even gets that courtesy. ]
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winterfish
no subject
Date: 2023-01-24 12:16 am (UTC)( it's only by some mercy of the gods that he's able to rattle of things in his field of vision between cries of pain — a Hot Dog Prince across the street, a Motel 666 on his left. he's made it about a block away from the seedy, sexy district but he's still downtown and he's still out of his mind with drunkenness and agony. )
If I die here, know that... that you deserve to be cherished by someone.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-24 12:40 am (UTC)He's already standing and grabbing his sword (listen, he never knows what's going to happen with this fool) as he heads out of his room, unsure of how to respond to Anders' drunken babble. He must really be drunk to say such a thing. That or he thinks he's talking to someone else. Idiot. ]
Don't move.
[ He doesn't put the device back in his pocket this time, just in case the mage manages to do something even stupider while Fenris tries to get there. He can't believe he's about to say this, but he has to know if Anders passes out or drops dead- ]
-Keep talking if you can.
[ Or make noise. Whatever. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-01-24 01:02 am (UTC)You must really think I'm not long for this world to make a request like... like that. And you'd be right. At least, it feels as much.
( dying in the same way twice, blind-sighted from behind. is this purgatory? is that all this place was ever meant to be for them? )
There's a lot of blood, Fenris. My healing— my magic. It's gone. ( there's a silence where he simply wheezes, then he remembers to continue. ) I have to wonder if I ever had it in the first place. If I could ever do any of those things I thought I could, if they were another memory.
...
I shouldn't have used your name.
I should have been better to you.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-24 01:35 am (UTC)Less out of urgency to help and more out of an urgency to put all of this behind him as soon as possible, he's already rushing down the stairs — he has no idea how to work the lifts in this building. He always ends up on the wrong floor and now is hardly the time to mess with buttons.
He wants to tell Anders that his magic certainly existed. But...does he know that to be a sure thing anymore? Not until they figure out exactly what's happening with their memories. ]
I'm afraid to ask.
[ About...any of this. Later. For now, he'll keep talking. Keep getting him to talk, he'll...ignore that last bit at the moment. He keeps his voice even, calm, unaffected. Though try as he might there's a tension that underlines his words. ]
What's happening to you is the nature of this place. It happened to me too. You're not dying.
[ He would have warned him and all, but they haven't been able to hold a conversation longer than three minutes without wanting to kill each other. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-01-24 01:53 am (UTC)...Does that disappoint you? Wouldn't you be more delighted if I were? Dying, that is.
( of all the people to rely upon, he had to be stuck in this world with no one who knows him but fenris. fenris... )
Your name, it suits you better.
...I hardly even remember mine. I know it's not Anders, but I can't recall the person I was before that. Perhaps they'll remind me in the Fade.
But yours is good. Both of yours. Fenris and Leto.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-24 02:46 am (UTC)He sputters something, jumbled words as if he were the drunk one. This is a lot to respond to, to listen to, all at once while he's practically running out of the hotel, breath getting heavy. ]
You — [ Maker's balls what does he say to any of this? ] I don't...wish you dead.
[ It's a good thing he's fast and the area he thinks Anders is in isn't very far. His mind goes a mile a minute but his ability to speak leaves him completely...at least for now, but he'll keep encouraging Anders to speak if he stops, focusing on getting there.
As soon as he gets to the street Anders had described he starts calling for him as he looks around. ]
Anders? Anders!
no subject
Date: 2023-01-26 03:35 am (UTC)( were he not in excruciating pain, he may have said something biting in return. fenris may not want him dead, but anders is looking forward to the day he can visit fenris' tombstone so he might knock it over. he doesn't have the strength or the motivation to say that much, and what would it say about him that he his last words in this realm could be so full of hatred and vitriol? is that all he ever was? hatred disguised as integrity?
he doesn't want to think about that.
in fact, he doesn't want to think at all. or breathe, or move, or exist. up until now, he'd been speaking in hardly above a whisper when he wasn't crying out at the pain of it all, but now he's silent. he can hear fenris in the near distance, but to shout back for him feels impossible. )
...Thank you for doing me the kindness of lying.
( because lying to someone about how much you don't want them dead when you totally, absolutely do is a really nice thing, when you think about it.
he sighs out a breath that feels like it might be his last, and with it, some fighting spirit within him sends out an beacon of light. it's faint, what he sends up into the air, but it glows so strangely that it's impossible not to notice. at its source lies a crumpled heap of clothing and feathers that may or may not be anders. his fresh wings are tacky with blood, like newborn's, and the shoulder blades where they stem from are rocky with splintered bone. all over, painful golden patterns crack his skin, not unlike when he's occupied by justice.
despite how horrific it is, this isn't something anders wouldn't be able to heal... except for now. without his magic, he can't do anything. he doesn't know who he is without that connection to the vast beyond, a connection that seems to be failing him.
he'd always said he'd prefer death to that. )
no subject
Date: 2023-01-26 04:06 am (UTC)Then the strange glow grabs his attention. It doesn't take a scholar to figure out that probably has something to do with the mage. Him and glowing go together like—
—like Fenris and glowing, he supposes.
That thought creeps down his spine like a spirit passing through him as he rushes for the source of the glow, struggling to see Anders until he realizes he's under the mess of feathers and clothes.
No...he is the mess of feathers and clothes.
All the urgency from before seems to leave him, creeping closer instead of rushing to his side, taking in the sight of bloody wings — wings that busted out of Anders' back...that explains the screaming. He figured it was...this.
He sighs. Not dead then. ]
Wake up, mage. [ He's still cautious, because it's Anders, nudging one of his legs with his foot. ] Make a sound if you can hear me.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-27 12:44 am (UTC)...kept your word...
( it can hardly be heard, but at least he gives something to let fenris know he isn't completely dead, just what feels like close to it.
sorry, elf. you're going to have to carry him. )
no subject
Date: 2023-01-27 01:21 am (UTC)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! ]
no subject
Date: 2023-01-27 01:51 am (UTC)everything in his body cries out when he's wrenched to his feet, his voice along with them. all at once, fenris has him, and they're moving, and anders feels him as if he's feeling around a cloud, able to sense the world around him in a nebulous way without ever getting a proper grasp.
in this way, fenris has so much more form than he'd ever had before. it's like he's been taken from 2-D to 3-D. anders can't make sense of it. he can't even make sense of the analogy he used to try to make sense of it. )
...you're in pain...
( like anders is. the brands that line fenris' skin are singing out to him, along with other things. fenris is broadcasting so much. were he from this century, he'd compare himself to a newly installed satellite dish picking up signals where previously none existed. all as if it were his own, he feels fenris' annoyance with each step, and his determination to get this over with, and his discomfort— discomfort? what's the cause of that? is it anders' doing? if he could just dig deeper, feel more...
his brain feels like it's going to split in two, but he's placing himself into fenris' body, feeling what he's feeling. he gets something, then. )
...Wait, wait.
( it takes some time for him to stop, and lean against fenris while he peels off what's left of his coat. it's gross, and spotted with blood, and it has a few feathers sticking to it, but he hands it to fenris. )
For your feet. To cover... cover them. From the streets.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-27 02:33 am (UTC)When Anders tries to stop Fenris nearly continues to drag his ass down the block, his grunt is more frustrated in this moment than it is a response to the pain. ]
What are you—
[ His brows knit together in bafflement as Anders pulls off the last bit of his ruined coat and hands it over to him, bloody and torn. He doesn't understand where this is coming from, why he suddenly cares about his barefootedness, but he chalks it up to delirium. ]
How thoughtful, [ he drawls without taking the cloth, and he will begin to move whether the mage is ready or not. ] Worry not about my feet and more about your...everything.
[ He just wants to get back. It's late, they're both vulnerable, and this city is impossible to predict. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-01-29 08:45 pm (UTC)( so, delirium sounds about right.
by now, his glow is so dull it's barely visible. if he'd had his healing, he'd be fine. he be able to fix himself, and whatever discomfort fenris is feeling. he could patch them up with a wave of his hand — literally — but that's not an option anymore. that thought makes him want to lie down and ask fenris to put him out of his misery, but he wouldn't give the elf so much satisfaction.
so he walks, and he saves his strength for putting one foot before the other. it's hard, but it's better to place his energy into walking than trying to focus on the flashes of vision he's perceiving. past and future, events that never happened and events that he'll never forget. it's maddening, and justice isn't even here to help quell the thoughts and keep them at bay. )
no subject
Date: 2023-01-29 09:25 pm (UTC)At least with Anders moving his feet even just a little, Fenris can get them back to the hotel faster. There are several moments along the way where he considers dropping him on someone's doorstep, but no one deserves that fate.
As Fenris gets them inside some of the staff give them concerned stares, but Fenris simply points out that he's drunk and stupid, so they leave them be. That was perhaps a little too easy, but less trouble for him is ideal. This time around he does fiddle with the lift until it gets them to where they need to go. It's another small battle to find Anders' room, search him for his key, and get inside, but he does it, and uses the remainder of his energy to drag this fool's stupid magical ass to his bed. The relieved sigh when Fenris finally sets him down, easing up the pressure against his markings, is palpable. Maker, what a pain in the ass. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-01-29 10:06 pm (UTC)Don't go.
( maker, how pathetic he's become, and so quickly at that. since his death, anders has been on a fast-track to becoming someone he doesn't even recognize, someone who asks about the market board for a 'good time' like a common whore, and begs one of his greatest rivals for help [twice, now]. through it all, though, he believes he wants to survive. he isn't sure how deep that drive runs, but right now, he wants to fight through the pain and see the morning, for some reason or another. why? he doesn't know. but he knows if he spends his night here alone with no one to stop him from acting on his misery and self-pity, he may not live long enough to find out.
unfortunately, none of that comes out even half as coherent. )
Please.
I'm nothing.
I'll... I'll die.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-29 10:25 pm (UTC)You're not that easy to be rid of.
[ Here Fenris is, in a completely different land that makes little sense, and Anders still turned up. He doubts the mage will die this easily. Yet, despite his dry response, he doesn't try to leave. He does try to pull his hand away though. That hurts you asshole. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-01-29 10:36 pm (UTC)( the filter in his mind is gone, apparently, burned away by sour beers and bone-shattering pain. why would he bring up hawke now? why, why, why, why—
fenris' brands hurt, and anders can tell he hurts, somehow, so he lets go. his eyes are closed and his breathing his fitful, but he's still very much alive. )
Don't.
I'll owe you.
Hawke killed me.
Can't be alone.
no subject
Date: 2023-01-29 11:03 pm (UTC)...He what?
[ Anders hadn't even wanted to believe that Hawke would hand Fenris over to his master, despite his claims that the man killed him. Naturally, he assumes Anders did something, but even if that were the case...what could he have possibly done for Hawke to kill him? They were disgustingly inseparable. ]
Why? How?
[ None of this makes sense, but he supposes that's been the theme since their arrival. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-01-29 11:20 pm (UTC)You were there...
( ugh.
still, that last bit of emphasis seems to have zapped what little strength he has left, because he stops responding then, and his breath grows slower still. )
no subject
Date: 2023-01-29 11:55 pm (UTC)[ It's instinctive the way he bites back at Anders — the man makes it difficult not to snap. His arms cross as he scoffs. ]
I would be sure not to forget such an event, trust me.
[ He almost doesn't notice Anders' slowed breathing, because fuck him, but as he awaits a response or further explanation...he can tell something isn't right. A brow quirking, he leans over Anders, hesitating before reaching out to nudge him. ]
Mage?
[ If he dies AFTER he dragged his ass here he'll be furious. ]
Is this sleep or death taking you?
no subject
Date: 2023-01-30 12:06 am (UTC)What? No, but.... but, hey, perhaps death would be a mercy compared to your mother henning, you doting... dote-y...Dote-Head.
( brand-new sentence that don't make a lick of sense for $500, alex.
anders tries his best to turn away, but the pain from his wings is too bad to making any sort of movement pleasant. he stays where he is instead. )
Either lie on the bed or lie on the floor; it matters little to me. Just don't leave.
( he says it like a demand rather than a pitiful request like that will restore some of his dignity. )
no subject
Date: 2023-01-30 12:28 am (UTC)[ he mutters irritably, rolling his eyes and moving away so that he can get this sword off his back, placing it against the wall as he always does. He picks a spot nearby on the floor, sitting with his back against the wall and crossing his arms.
He doesn't intend on getting too comfortable. When Anders drifts off to sleep and seems in deep enough not to wake till morning, he'll slip out. Anders is lucky he even gets that courtesy. ]