Participants:

Fenris_icon.gif Taril_icon.gif

Scene Title Taking the Wolf Down the Rabbit Hole
Synopsis Taril initiates an odd conversation.
Location The Hanged Man
Date Justinian 3, 9:31 Dragon
Watch For A Pissed off Fenris
Logger Taril

Taril is supposed to be staying out of trouble and laying low, so OF COURSE he's in the Hanged Man. He's counting on the Qunari being at least somewhat hygienic, apparently. He's also working a large mug of something that looks drinkable and seemingly quite relaxed. Not a worry in the world.

There had to be a better bar in Lowtown somewhere. Fenris hadn't found it yet though. Thus, the pale haired elf is, once again, coming into the blighted place. Sure, he could just sit and drink in the Land of Horrid Quilts, but… Well, he didn't want to. There were thoughts there. Feelings there. Things he couldn't think about too long or he'd scare himself out of his skins, waiting there to be considered. A flower crown pressed into a book left behind by the room's last renter. Drink in hand quickly, Fenris scans the room, sylvan green gaze eventually falling on Taril. He walks over, invites himself to the seat across from the other elf, and fixes Taril with a look.

"You do know what you have done is immensely stupid, I trust?" He says, though there is the slightest pull at the corners of his mouth as he says it, with his voice ever dry as bone dust.

Taril looks up mildly confused for JUUUUST a few seconds before he actually sees who's talking to him. "You mean the part where I got us past all the talking that was giving a mutual friend time to be relieved of that pesky pulse of his? Trust me. Our words weren't what they were there for. Why don't you sit? You can glare at me in a position that isn't going to kill my neck."

That actually gets a barked laugh from Fenris. He sits, and shakes his head. "You do not need to tell me as much about the Qunari." Fenris says, "It is not the getting us past the talking that is stupid. It is that you singled yourself out. You stayed. I am not chiding you." Hard to tell when you deadpan so well, Fenris. Really gotta work on your people skills, buddy.

Taril laughs. "Staying? That's the part you have issue with? You realize how much the people he treats need him? And don't think I missed the part where you carried him like a swooning princess- the flower crown was a nice touch- rescued from a dragon." He shrugs. "I weighed the need for him here against the need for me here. He won, I got their attention." He takes a drink from his mug and seems to consider it before apparently deeming it consumable. "I haven't had any trouble."

"Maker…" Fenris says, sighing and shaking his head, "Yes. I do. Someone needed to do what you did. But you could have disappeared after doing it. But it's your life, you may wager with it if you wish." A blush rises to Fenris's ears, but he is not touching that comment about swooning princesses with a ten foot pole. You couldn't pay him enough. "Yet."

Taril shakes his head. "I'm waiting for my clan. I could try to track them down…" That pause? That's him coming up with a great reason for staying. "But I may not be able to find them if they've had to divert. …you know, he blushed too. Did you have to consult a manual or something?" It's the only reason he can come up with for all the blushing! Plus? Smartass.

Fenris is likely about to reply to the mention of his Clan, but he stops short. He clears his throat, shakes his head, the blush gets worse. "I am not blushing." He says. Obviously untrue, but he's not going to admit to any such thing.

Taril rolls his eyes. "Fine, you have an incredibly temporary sunburn. By all means, let's talk around all the things that make life enjoyable and go into detail about the things that do the opposite. I'll pretend I didn't see the marks you left in your wake, if it helps." You hear that? That's the sound of an elf who is extremely done with the indirect way of doing EVERYTHING. "There are days when I wish I'd stayed in chains. Those guys were VERY direct when they spoke."

Blinking, Fenris has a look as thought he may have just been slapped. The damned Healer didn't heal his own bruises. Fenris shakes his head, sighs, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Venhedis, Anders…" He mutters, the blush only growing worse. The continuation of Taril's speaking, however, makes Fenris look at him again. "They do tend to be." He says, this time with an unmistakable growl to his voice.

Taril has to really fight to keep himself from laughing at the blush. "Look, I'm not trying to pry. All I'm saying is that I weighed what was important. I'm useful to my clan, but not necessary. I've … cut my ties with anyone save for my family. Anders matters, so I got their attention. I'll do it again if needed. At least while I'm here. Or until they manage to kill me. So far they've only managed to get me in the ass."

"Do not underestimate the Qunari." Fenris says simply, shaking his head. He had too much experience with them to ever do that again. None the less, he goes quiet then for a long moment. He takes the opportunity to drink. Eventually, though, he speaks again. "Thank you."

Taril shakes his head. "I'm not underestimating them, not really. If I get myself killed I don't have to face my Keeper and explain just why I let myself get captured. So don't thank me. All of my reasons are selfish." If he's dead, he can't get that _look_ from anyone! "… you know, those words you say. I heard some of those men say them. I thought the only elves that came from Tevinter were slaves, which makes you an escaped one, right?"

Fenris shrugs. Selfish reasons or not, he'd done him a service, in a way. He wasn't retracting the gratitude. Sighing, Fenris leans back. "There are elves in Tevinter that are not slaves." He says simply, though a moment later, just long enough to feel as though it may not be coming, "But that is correct."

"And that glow I saw…" Taril shakes his head. "You're worth a lot. I bet whoever it was is pissed." Which means he approves. "They do? The stories we hear don't tell us that, but I suppose they wouldn't. The men that I killed were heading for a market in…" He searches his head for the word. "Min…man.. something. I bet the bastard was from there." The last is said in a mutter. "Sorry, for someone who's traveled so much, I haven't been to many places. From the stories I've heard you'd think they have demons walking down the street and serving their meals."

Shaking his head, Fenris smirks a little. "I am not, just the lyrium in my flesh." He says, "And I am fairly certain he is of a mind to simply strip it from my bone if he gets his hands back on me." Fenris continues to listen. "Minrathous." He provides, knowing the city well, "It is… Not quite like that. Not the better for it, though."

"Then you should probably not let him do that." Oh listen Taril the Obvious. "It's yours now, anyway." He nods. "That's the place. They used a flat-ear to get close to us and spend time with us to lure us in with fewer losses. There's apparently a market for us 'wild elves'." Clearly he can't fathom why. "And so here we are. Two escapees, except I don't think you ever had any love for your master. I fell in love with the one who was sent to lure us in. I hope you get to look him in the face when he dies."

Now it's Fenris's turn to roll his eyes. He stares down at his arm for a moment. His now, hm? He didn't want the damn things. If he could separate the lyrium from his skin without killing himself, he would have a long time ago. They were the furthest thing from pleasant. There is a wince at Taril's assertion. "I will." He says simply, clearing his throat, not having much more to say on this matter. Drinking… Drinking would make this better. Somehow.

"Good. You want the person who thought they were your master to know that they never had a right to you in the first place." Taril finishes the contents of his mug and grins. "Then you could even become one of us," he teases. "Think of it, an entire clan full of people like me." Pause. "Not exactly. I thought my name was a heavy sigh followed by 'no' for a while." And now he's going to stand. "You should probably find a way to appreciate that. It gives you a way to protect your loved ones. …and now I have to go keep my promise to Maura to visit the docks." Wait for it. "You know, now that you're not a slave, you should try thinking like a man who isn't wearing a collar." And he's off!

"No, I don't think-" Fenris starts. Dalish. No, he had no want of being Dalish. No want of living in the woods and hunting for each meal. He could do it, but he did not relish it. Out in the woods like savages. Slave he may have been, but he had more dignity than that. But that thought is not what stops his speaking. What stops his speaking is Taril's assertion that he should find a way to appreciate these markings… The snarl he gives the other elf says everything he doesn't have words for. Appreciate this? He could, and did, make practical use of these blighted things, but he would never appreciate them. And what in the world did this man know, anyway? It's a damned good thing Taril is already leaving, because it distinctly looks as though, if he weren't, that we was about to get punched in the nose.


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