driftfleet | [Open Moons Mingle Log]

Maker, please resist the urge. The drink and company is enough.

[He is glad when his wine arrives, sipping it right from the bottle (because he's a classy elf) welcoming the bitter taste that could promise oblivion, eventually. Something away from all of this.

He tilts his head at the sound of Dorian's scoff. ]

Do I even want to know what is so amusing?

[He might normally restrain himself, but instead he glanced over, curiously eyeing the tattoos, the stark white hair, and he smirks a bit. It's without venom, just the way that he favors sarcasm more than honesty.

He looks away, and takes another drink, and when he speaks he nearly murmurs into his glass.]

It's good to finally meet you. It's different, to see someone in the flesh. I thought that you were handsome over the network, and seeing you now, I wasn't incorrect.

[He takes another drink, closing his eyes contentedly. This was how it was for him. Look, enjoy, don't dare hope for anything but perhaps mere physical contact. He didn't even hope for that now.

After today, he could hope that other worlds were different- that perhaps there was a place where people like him weren't seen as shameful.

He thought, again, of how far his father had gone, and he swore quietly, taking another drink.]

I suppose if I drink enough, I will forget what I need to, if only for a few hours.

[That...was surprising. Fenris rarely receives such complements. Back home, there was just Isabela (before her...well, he did not think about before her) and in Exslilum there had been Vanadi, that was all. Most just skirted away, mostly terrified, which was exactly how Danarius had wanted it to be. He looks confused, for a moment, before awkwardly clearing his throat, turning his gaze to the table. ]

Ah.

[And that's all he says on the matter, collecting himself again, reminding himself that Dorian is still, technically, probably, The Enemy and even if he isn't he is not someone to let his guard down around.]

I thought that was the point. Of drinking. It is a shame there is no Aggrecio Pravatti here.

Edited 2015-02-04 03:09 (UTC)

[Dorian assumes it's disinterest, it's not uncommon. Flirting with another man, even in Tevinter, among the men and schoolmates he had kissed, and perhaps gone further with, was always a gamble.

For a moment, he thought of the last man he has kissed- Rilienus. How he had wanted to beg him to leave with him, to find a new life for themselves. But in the end, he never had. Dorian was afraid, perhaps, of something that he had never known.

Sex was all well and good, but anything beyond that, he had told himself he would never have, closed himself to the idea. Was this place so different that is was possible? He falls silent, mulling it over, thinking over things, and he doesn't speak for a few moments, taking another drink.

He couldn't merely content himself with knowing that things were better in another world.]

When I return to Tevinter, I will change things. Even if I have to kill every last Venatori myself.

[He says it with barely-contained hatred in his voice.]

[Ah. So much for drinking to forget, if they're going to speak about their homeland, he needs to be far drunker than he already is. He takes a sip of wine, before eyeing Dorian carefully.]

...I must have missed those. Are them some new sect of the Magesterium?

[He's guessing they have to be bad, to incite such anger. One more point towards the 'Dorian Probably Isn't A Psychoapth' box, though.]

A cult. A dangerous one, trying to return Tevinter to how it was. They have supporters in the Magisterium, they come to the South and cause havoc.

[He makes a small sound of disgust, and takes another drink. He's feeling unusually unrestrained lately, which means his smiles to himself. He smiles, and he finishes his whiskey, pouring some more for himself.

It was all so clear.]

The Magisterium. There are a few of them that can stay but the rest...

[He takes a drink, and his voice in grim and determined despite the whiskey.]

Cut the head off of the viper. The Black Divine, the Magitserium, all of them. Rebuild it with the few that remain, that know that Tevinter needs to be reformed. None of this...clinging to the past nonsense. Times have changed, Tevinter needs to, as well.

[He smiles to himself. He's not the best of men. He faults himself for it. No good man revels in death like he does. But he had a clear vision of what needed to happen, now.

He was not good, but he didn't lack virtue.]

[This is...interesting to watch, and listen to. He hasn't heard Dorian speak of his plans for Tevinter so animatedly before. If he's acting, he's damn good at it. He's not even sure if a person can lie about murdering the Black Divine. That's the sort of thing they'd fear would set them on fire or something, right?

Of course, Fenris thinks this is a fantastic idea. He'd like nothing more than to see all of those bastards cut down, torn to nothing. He wasn't convinced Tevinter could ever really be saved, but if there was a chance, any at all, it would have to start that way.]

Cut out the disease so it can no longer spread. A bold plan, I like it. You could not manage such a thing alone, though. They would crush you like an ant.

There are those that agree with me. For the rest...

[He thinks for a moment, imagining everything as if it were a game of chess. Pieces needed to be moved into place. He couldn't involve the Inquisition in this, unless they wanted to, willingly. But if he could assemble even a small force of Templars, they would be invaluable.

He thinks for a moment, and takes another drink, and then he turns to Fenris.]

...I am resourceful. But when I return, I will do it.

[He turns back to his dink, murmuring something to himself, thinking, and then speaks loudly enough that Fenris could hear him.]

Come with me, Fenris. You have skills. We can topple them from the top.

[And then he blinks, and nods as the idea comes to him.]

Of course, the slaves! We pull the foundation out from under them. They will be unbalanced, and that is when we set the plan into motion. Free them all, and in the chaos...

[He took another drink, the plan coalescing clearly in his mind, despite the alcohol.]

Only one time spent drinking together and you're already asking me to invade our homeland with you.

[Oh no, he's trying to be funny. Mostly, it's so he can breathe for a second, think this through. His friends in Kirkwall have largely left him to his vendetta against Tevinter alone, any ally in his feelings towards the country is...unexpected. ]

You have seen Nel, most of them would respond to sudden freedom in that way. Perhaps those who knew freedom before would have the drive to do something, most would cower, terrified at the prospect of losing their masters.

[Oh, but what a picture it paints. A Magistrate without its slaves, a Tevinter where freedom was a right everyone could hold. It is a dream he has never dared to have. That no slave, former or otherwise, ever dared to have. Fenris is not one for hope, it only leads to disappointment, when those hopes are inevitably crushed. But for the first time in his memory, a little seeps in through the cracks.]

If it could work, it would cripple them. But many lives would be lost in the process. Innocent ones.

Edited 2015-02-04 18:48 (UTC)

Yes, I need to think this out a bit more. But it's a start.

[He would sort it all out. Contracts would have to be redone, slavery traded for service. A sort of arrangement where it was mutually beneficial.

He took another drink, and nodded.]

Thank you, Fenris. You're a good man, despite all of the murder. Or perhaps, in part, because of it.

[He leaned against him just for a moment, in a way he hoped was companionable.]

I am not, but I-

[And then Dorian leans on him, and Fenris tenses, turning quickly out of the way as if Dorian were on fire. The lyrium sparks to life, for a moment, twisting lines glowing brightly. The sharp points of his gauntlets, almost like talons, dig into the wood of the bar, leaving deep lines on the surface.

He takes a breath, closes his eyes, steadies himself. He's got better, he knows. At least he didn't try to rip Dorian's face off. That's improvement. The lyrium dims as Fenris finds his centre of calm again. Quite often, he would leave, at this point, but Dorian has at least earned an explanation. ]

Don't touch me. [His tone isn't angry, in fact it's worryingly flat.] The pain of the brands linger.

[It's more than that, but he won't talk about it. This is the only explanation Dorian will get, for the time being. It speaks volumes that he has impressed Fenris enough to be given an explanation at all.]

[Dorian, expecting weight against himself, if only for a moment, is thrown off balance and tumbles gracelessly to the sticky bar floor. He's half caught by shock, trying to drunkenly process what happened, and when he finally gets his bearings, he looks up to him.

He's not angry, perhaps a bit ashamed, and mostly guilty. In his drunken impulsiveness he overstepped, and he bows his head when he stands.

The explanation is a thin comfort, but at least he knows that it's not entirely disgust at Dorian for who he is.]

Forgive me, I didn't know. I will be mindful of that, in the future.

[And in some part of him he was saying to himself "please, don't hate me".]

Edited 2015-02-04 21:04 (UTC)

Thank you.

[Fenris watches him quietly for a moment, before letting out a tired sigh.]

I know I must seem very hostile towards you, and it is largely undeserved. Since you arrived you have done nothing but prove yourself to be a good man, truly wishing to make Thedas a better place. I have never come across anyone like you, before, I never thought it even possible. Yet, here you are.

[He turns his gaze to the table, to the marks he's left there. Like an animal. Like a wolf. He decides to keep talking, lest he falls silent and never speaks of this again.]

I cannot promise I will not lash out at you again. It is...difficult for me to adjust to this. To you. The scars the other Tevinter mages left on me run deep. It will take time, but I will try.

[That's...kind of an apology.]

No, it is not you who should apologize. I suppose I stepped too far, I should have known better, perhaps.

[He had no way OF knowing, but all the same. In drunken gracelessness, he pushed too far, wished for companionship, kinship, where men like him had only left scars.

He was angry, again, at the Magisters who saw it in their right to do such things. Fenris, here, was living proof of how warped and twisted these men had become.]

I suppose that is the way of it, isn't it? Tevinter leaves scars on everyone- some worse than others, some more easily seen. I cannot pretend to know what happened to you. But...thank you.

[It was not Dorian's fault, but the fault of the society he was bred for. Disgusting, all of it, but he took some solace in knowing that Fenris gave him more of an explanation than he deserved.]

It is not an enjoyable tale, you are better off not knowing it.

[It only incites pity, and Fenris can't stand that. Their pity is better served elsewhere, in ways that can make a difference, for the people who have not been torn to nothing as he has.]

But I do not need to tell you what Tevinter is capable of. I cannot imagine they would treat someone who shunned their ideals well.

[They both have scars, little mementos of a homeland that has lost itself to darkness and corruption.]

[Dorian takes his seat again, taking the glass in hand. For a few moments, he is silent, contemplating how much to share of himself.]

I am the pariah of Minrathos. But I am not from Minrathos. I am from Qarinus. I left there...fled, really. I left to escape my father.

[His voice falters at the last word, and he looks down at his glass, trying to be honest to another person was far more difficult than he thought.

But he had to try, at least.]

[Fenris frowns, thinking, sifting through memories he wishes he could repress, but knows they remain within him to make him stronger.]

I saw little of Magister Pavus. Danarius rarely invited him to his soirees, except when propriety demanded it.

[Fenris didn't much care at the time. He didn't care about anything, back then. He lived to serve, and that was all. He didn't exist to have opinions.]

I assume he did not approve of your ideas any more than the Magiterium as a whole would.

There was more to it than that. He wished me to play a part, lie about who I was, and for what? So that he could avoid scandal. So that his legacy would live on, a legacy more important to him than his own son.

[He took another drink. The memories were still fresh in his mind, like a wound ripped open and left to bleed again.]

I am certain you know the words, what they call a man that would prefer another man to his wife. Scandalous. He wanted me to marry. Called me selfish when I refused. Selfish, and all I wanted was to not live feeling like my soul was screaming.

He was going to change me, use blood magic. I found out and fled to Minrathos.

[Ah. That...explained a lot. The elf leaves his wine alone, for now, instead, his brow furrowing. ]

I am not surprised they would treat you as such. Every party you had them parading their young men and women about as if they were cattle going to stud. All for the perfect line. Because Maker knows a person has to stick with tradition above all else. It's ridiculous.

[He scoffs, annoyed, but not at Dorian.]

I am not surprised that became a resort. The desire for perfection is so strong in all of them. You are lucky you got away when you did.

[Would they have toyed with Dorian's mind the way his was toyed with? Erase the unwanted parts to paint over with what they desired? The thought makes him feel sick. Certainly, he still assumed his own memory loss was due to the branding, but that did not mean Danarius didn't take advantage of the fact he had a clean slate to work with.]

[Dorian nods, and takes a drink.]

I loved him. I would have done anything to make him proud of me. But in the end, I was just a pawn to him.

[He finished his drink, downing the whiskey but barely tasting it. That was the horrible truth of it. It wasn't that his father had betrayed his own words- it was that Dorian was nothing more than a tool to him, to further the Pavus line.

Everything he had done to make him proud had meant nothing when his father was faced with the idea that his son might be different than what he wanted. Dorian knew there was nothing wrong about him. It was Tevinter, the Magistry, they were the ones at fault.

Dorian refused to play the role they wanted. That was why they hated him.

He considers drinking more, but having already fallen out of his seat once, he considers that enough of a show of himself for the night, so he stands. He nearly reaches out to pat Fenris on the shoulder, but he stops himself, steps back, and takes the quarter-full bottle of whiskey in hand.]

Goodnight, Fenris. I will see you again, soon, ideally.

[Fenris notes the hesitation to touch and is glad for it. To him, it speaks volumes. He makes a small noise of assent, going back to his wine. He has much to think about.]

I have a room on this moon. You will often find me in the bars here, should you wish to speak to me.

I will keep that in mind. Let me know, should you ever want for company. I am, after all, a charming conversationalist when I think to make myself one.

[There's a bow, an exaggerated gesture, and he chuckles drunkenly to himself and saunters toward the door, to find a place to sleep.]

[There's the faintest tug of his lips, a ghost of a smile.] I shall keep that in mind.

[He leaves Dorian go, returning to his wine. There are many things he never thought he could possibly do, but actually being anywhere near comfortable with a mage from Tevinter was not one of them. Strange times.]

Edited 2015-02-05 01:39 (UTC)

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FENRIS GREATLY APPROVES

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