[Fenris has never been a fan of indulging in virtual reality. In Exsilium, he used it exclusively for training, never falling to the temptation to program it for anything else. Why bother? It will only give a facsimile of what you desire. Not the true thing. Just another way to torture yourself for a home you have been wrenched away from.
He has come seeking Dorian to be certain he was safe and unharmed after the attacks. He did not expect to walk right slap bang into a Tevinter street. He freezes, like a deer in headlights, whole body tense as his eyes flicker around the horribly familiar surroundings. The last time he was in Quarinus he was quite literally in chains.
He remembers the weight of the collar Danarius made him wear, the chain attached to it held loosely by his former master as Fenris followed along placidly behind. There was no fight, no life in him, then. Like every single other slave, the thought of breaking free hadn't so much as entered his mind. He and all the others were just lifeless beings, waiting for their master's orders.
He glances at a lantern, remembers a dry comment Danarius made about how in Minrathos they were brighter. He can hear his voice as if it were only yesterday, not over a decade ago. He feels his stomach churn.
He always thought he could go with Dorian, in some fantasy idea that should they get out of this mess together, to fix Tevinter. To go pull out the bad and nurture the good. As he looks around him now, he's not so sure if he can. He wants to run, to put as much distance between himself and his vision of his own version of Hell as he can. There's nothing to be salvaged in this place. Nothing good in it.
...Well. Not quite nothing.
His shoulders droop and he lets out a haggard sigh. Then he crosses the cobblestones, trying to shut out how they feel under his bare feet, trying to block out most of what's around him. He eventually gets to Dorian and cautiously puts a hand on his shoulder. He feels he can truly understand but at the same time be completely distanced from what the other man is feeling right now.
He doesn't especially welcome it, but he offers comfort all the same. ]
no subject
He has come seeking Dorian to be certain he was safe and unharmed after the attacks. He did not expect to walk right slap bang into a Tevinter street. He freezes, like a deer in headlights, whole body tense as his eyes flicker around the horribly familiar surroundings. The last time he was in Quarinus he was quite literally in chains.
He remembers the weight of the collar Danarius made him wear, the chain attached to it held loosely by his former master as Fenris followed along placidly behind. There was no fight, no life in him, then. Like every single other slave, the thought of breaking free hadn't so much as entered his mind. He and all the others were just lifeless beings, waiting for their master's orders.
He glances at a lantern, remembers a dry comment Danarius made about how in Minrathos they were brighter. He can hear his voice as if it were only yesterday, not over a decade ago. He feels his stomach churn.
He always thought he could go with Dorian, in some fantasy idea that should they get out of this mess together, to fix Tevinter. To go pull out the bad and nurture the good. As he looks around him now, he's not so sure if he can. He wants to run, to put as much distance between himself and his vision of his own version of Hell as he can. There's nothing to be salvaged in this place. Nothing good in it.
...Well. Not quite nothing.
His shoulders droop and he lets out a haggard sigh. Then he crosses the cobblestones, trying to shut out how they feel under his bare feet, trying to block out most of what's around him. He eventually gets to Dorian and cautiously puts a hand on his shoulder. He feels he can truly understand but at the same time be completely distanced from what the other man is feeling right now.
He doesn't especially welcome it, but he offers comfort all the same. ]