driftfleet | ROADS TO RICHES MINGLE POST

[Despite being an elf, there aren't a whole lot of barefooted ones around. Possessing a rather thick book of epic alien poetry, he's somewhat distracted until he spots Fenris around a hedge, and then he's interested. The tattoos aren't anything he's seen before. They're more like scars. Runic tattoos are the flavor of the blood elves, but this man...

He doesn't look quite like the other elves he's seen, but he carries himself like a warrior, and Belth is as intimidated as he is curious.

He tucks his book beneath his arm and peeks around the hedge. He could be stealthy except... for the really long ears poking out, god damn it.]

[Fenris knows when he's being watched. It just one of those senses you get, when you have lived the life he has. He freezes, not making any quick movements, his eyes scanning the area, trying to find the threat.

And then he sees the pair of ear and exhales. ]

If you are attempting to hide from me, you are not doing a good job of it.

[The ears pin back immediately and Belthazar ducks, but it's too late. He's been spotted. He wrestles for a moment with the thought of coming out and actually talking to the man, or just popping Invisibility and making a run for it...

In the end, though, his curiosity wins. He slinks out from behind the hedge. He's... pretty small, all things considered, and his posture doesn't help.]

You look almost like someone from my homeworld, but not quite. I was trying to decide if you were an elf or half.

[How the heck do his ears move?? Fenris blinks, confused, before folding his arms, waiting, watching as Bel crawls through into view. ]

I'm an elf. Half elves do not have the ears. [Or even...anything elven. At all. Gentics!!! ]

I doubt we are from the same world, however. [He can't move his ears like a freaking cat. Seriously, how do you do that?!! ]

I've never met a half-elf from my world in person, only the one called Syeira. And, anyway, your eyes would be glowing if we were from the same world. [It's said as a matter of fact, like he isn't a sixteen year old boy with creepy glowing green eyes.]

It is not uncommon for blood elves to have tattoos, but you are the first non-blood elf I've met to have--

-- where are your shoes?

...No. My eyes do not glow. That is a mark of possession in Thedas. [Every other part of him is a different matter. ]

No one, elf or otherwise, has tattoos like mine.

[He looks down at his feet. ] I do not wear them.

[Excellent answer. ]

[His eyebrows jump up nearly to his hairline.]

Possession? That is not a thing that generally happens outside of... ghost stories.

[He doesn't like ghost stories much. His arms tighten around the book he's carrying, a subtle indication of such.]

Ah, I thought perhaps you were too poor to afford shoes. [He's been there.] That seems dangerous in battle, however.

[Man he is curious about the tats, though.]

Do they help you channel magic, as blood elf tattoos do?

It happens very often, especially amongst mages in my world.

[Fenris rolls his eyes, but doesn't respond. He IS too poor for just about anything, it's only since being in the Fleet, where he's actually got a decent amount of coin to his name. ]

Not...exactly. They are made of lyrium, it is a magical substance in my world. But I am not a mage.

How peculiar. Mages are susceptible to arcane addiction on my world, but not possession. What a strange world yours must be.

[He's seriously just... imagining a bunch of ghosts mind controlling people into doing stupid things. This child tho.

He glances at Fenris' tattoos again, then looks back to his face.]

That's-- oh, that is not-- [His face scrunches up some. Tattooing a magical material directly into one's skin is usually very painful.] That must have hurt a great deal.

Strange and dangerous. It is why mages are- were kept under close guard, to be sure they did not succumb and cause mass destruction.

[That's all gone now, thanks to Fucking Anders. He honestly fears the world that's facing him, when he is inevitably sent home.

His face turns into a grimace, at the memory such a conversation brings, at the exceptional understatement.]

It was absolute agony.

[... By the Light.]

I can almost understand that... There is a council of mages in my city and they are nearly all corrupt nobility. Our people were tainted by the magic they tampered with-- something I didn't find out until after it happened, of course, because the magisters love their secrets.

Still, magic can do so many great things. It can save lives and turn the tide of a battle. I think the key is to keep those governing magic separate from matters of state. It is harder to overlook things that way.

[From the mouths of babes.

He frowns deeply, though, and very nearly reaches out. Then he stops himself. That's... not something he does. He doesn't reach out to people. He doesn't have healing hands, he has no idea what to do, and if someone hurt then, they probably hurt now.

He wishes he could heal.]

I am sorry you were treated so cruelly. The pain is something only a mage should endure, and only after being told quite plainly of the risks. Usually people with tattoos like that are...

[He probably should shut up.]

... It isn't good.

[Fenris listens, quietly. He remains angry, tense, but it's not directed at Belth. It's directed to those ghosts of his past, who will never truly be vanquished. ]

I was a slave, I had little choice in the matter.

[Not entirely true, but close enough. ]

If I was told of the risks, I do not remember them. Regardless, I have used what was forced upon me to destroy those who did it to me, and those like them.

[Fenris is intense. There are a few blood elves like that, and they intimidate Belth, but he admires them too. Someday he wants to be in charge of his life like they are.

Still, elf slaves are not really a thing in Azeroth. In some parts, they might be kidnapped, but it's not some kind of lucrative trade.]

A-- a slave!? Who would dare-- and you are an elf! When the humans were still a bunch of warring tribes, the elves were building palaces across the continent!

[OOOOOOOOH that makes him mad.]

I am glad you delivered retribution. But-- what a terrible world. And I thought that ruined Earth was terrible.

[That...sounds hauntingly familiar.]

It is said elves lived like that, once. Humans quickly took over and tore us down. Slaverly is common for elves, in Tevinter, and in the rest of Thedas, they either live in slums or wander the wilds in Dalish clans. Being an elf in Thedas means you often have less than nothing, and are expected to be content with that.

[He can understand, why Solas wants so badly to change things. He still doesn't believe it's possible, though. Elves have their lot, and that is that.

Belth's next comment makes him look up sharply. Because that sounds familiar, too.]

...Do you mean Exsilium?

I will never be content with the lot I was given. I've come to accept that humans are not all terrible, but they abandoned my people and left us to die at the hands of their undead prince. I will never forgive them for that.

[He scowls, though it soon fades into a look of mild surprise.]

... Yes, actually. I thought Kaneis was the only one who remembered. I was there for a few months.

Hmm, some of the people I treasure most are humans, but by and large they are an exceptionally destructive race.

No, I remember being there. Nine months, right up until the war ended and they offered us a way out.

They are. Young and stupid as a whole, I feel.

[As if he's not a sixteen year old elf who does stupid things on a regular basis.]

I left in the summer... I think. I don't remember anything about the war ending. I do remember a plague that killed a lot of civilians. And then I woke up here.

[A sigh, and he shakes his head.]

I am glad the war is over, but being kidnapped again is the opposite of what I wanted.

[Of course not.]

The United Earth's AI was destroyed, and that meant their bases could be struck down. When the war was done, the Initiative offered us all a chance to go home, remain and rebuild, or travel elsewhere.

[Very dryly:]

That list is strangely devoid of spaceships.

Precisely. I do not know how I ended up here.

None of us do. And I am left wondering what happened to me in those months I was gone, if time went on for everyone else.

[He shivers. He doesn't like not knowing things.]

... My name is Belthazar Spellscry.

[Well if that's not an indication of being a mage I don't know what is.]

Hm. I imagine it would be like being dropped in a sort of limbo.

[He doesn't know if the Initiative or Atroma are to blame, but he knows it's one of them.]

Fenris.

...That is an unusual name. [The 'SPELL' part tipped him off. ]

I suppose so. I keep thinking of all the time that was wasted. I could have been studying.

[He huffs a bit to himself, then looks at Fenris.]

It's a pleasure to meet you. [Even if you are too poor for shoes, strange man.]

Ah... that's only the Common translation, but it's easier to pronounce for most people. One of my ancestors supposedly rose to fame by spying tirelessly on the enemy and delivering the information to the ranger-general. There may be some truth to it since magic runs in my family.

Do you not have deed names where you are from?

[Fenris gives a soft 'hn' at that. Maybe it's nice to meet him, too, maybe it's not. It could go either way.

It's probably that second one, though.

His eyes narrow at the magic talk. Of COURSE he's another mage, why wouldn't he be? ]

Atroma does enjoy mages, it seems. Do you have control over your magic?

[Just...getting right to the point, there, not even going to answer that question. ]

[Fenris mentioned the possession thing earlier, but that doesn't explain why he's suddenly bitter about EVERY MAGE HE COMES ACROSS. Belth leans back slightly, his ears flattening against his dark hair.]

Of course I do! [He's somewhat offended at the accusation.] I was conjuring fireballs while my peers were still learning to read, and I hold a position that normally belongs to those twice my age-- something I could not have attained without a degree of skill.

So, yes, I can control my magic.

C

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