Fenris stared at the ceiling, body tinged with spikes of pleasure and exhaustion. The blanket lay half on his body, and his room was quiet once Isabela had left. He breathed heavily, trying to stay in that fixture of his afterglow, but there was the dark recesses of his mind that began to spill forth. Crawling their way to the surface, wrapping around his heart, and suffocating his lungs.
Fenris stuttered a breath, and he closed his eyes at the pain that washed over him. The intensity of it made him groan as his body curled on its side, the cold of the empty estate couldn't even rid him of the thoughts in his mind, they intruded upon his escape, and made him flinch at the memories that clouded his senses.
Sucking in a sliver of air when the memories dampened and he reached for a bottle on the nightstand beside the bed. It was half full, but enough for him as he managed to sit upright, the blanket covering his waist, and he tipped his head back, and drank the contents. He ignored the burn down his throat, the rush of warmth that tasted wrong, and he drank and drank before placing the empty bottle back down.
There was more in the estate, more that he needed to rid him of his memories, the terrible, terrible, memories that ripped him open on the inside. It made him shudder, but he wrapped the blanket around himself, and rose.
He left the bedroom to look for more wine bottles, and each room was colder than the last, but he soon found more in the pantry. He was running low and will need to restock, but for now he had enough to drown his sorrows and rage that swirled along with the suffocating pain that made him want to drown.
He took the bottles back to the room and he sat on his bed, and for the rest of the night, he drank until his mind spun, and his body was warm and numb. He didn't need to feel anything, didn't need to remember. He laughed to himself, reveling in the alcohol that swam in his system.
Lying back down on his bed once he finished the bottles he brought to the room, it was almost morning, the sun rising in the horizon. Fenris curled back on the bed and he did not close his eyes right away. He stared out the window, watching the sky and its golden undertones weaving through the blue of the night.
He blinked a few times, his eyes growing heavy, and finally he closed them and fell asleep. When he woke, it was not alone, and he heard the first sounds before he could even open his eyes, before his mind could come back to him from the day of dreaming, and his headache is what made him stay down then grabbing his blade to defend himself.
"Fenris?" Hawke's voice, heavy and smooth like honey entered the room. "Oh, maker...Fenris...your blanket."
He groaned, opening his eyes to the bright sun and its brighter sky. He reached for the blanket that was on the floor and pulled it over his body. He was stiff, aching from the odd angle, and he managed to sit upright to look at his visitor.
His vision was slightly blurry, and his headache didn't make him feel any better. He placed a hand on the side of his head, and tried to will the rising anger to go down.
"What do you want?" he asked, voice raspy and underused.
"I just wanted to see what you're up too," Hawke said, standing in the threshold of the room, his eyes glancing around and noting the wine bottles sprawled on the floor and the bedside table. "I see you've been having fun."
Fenris thought of Isabela last night, her groans and appreciative moans in his ears as they moved against the wall, and managed to fall on the bed. Her warmth had drove away the pain in his chest, and the images in his mind. Only for awhile, and when she had left, he was empty all over again. Pitiful.
"Another night," Fenris commented, dropping his hand. "I'm sorry, Hawke, I'm not entertaining you right now."
Hawke nodded. "I understand, you just woke up from drinking your entire pantry, I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go eat."
Eat? Food was far from his mind, and there was a lot in his pantry, but he did not touch any of it. He had tried a few times, and it wasn't rotten or moldy, he just preferred not to eat at certain times. And mostly it was all the time.
Fenris tilted his head up at Hawke and gave him a smirk. "We can do something else besides eat food….something more enjoyable in which we don't have to move far."
Hawke arched a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. For a moment, Fenris regretted what he said and what he implied, his mind was still foggy and his emptiness was getting to him. He was about to take back his words when Hawke said, "Let's eat first, it's better we have full stomachs before doing anything exerting."
Fenris frowned. "Let me change."
Hawke nodded and left the room, and Fenris waited until the man was far away to stand, he dropped the blanket and walked over to his abandoned clothes on the floor. The same that Isabela enjoyed taking off slowly, her fingers touching him, prodding at the places that made him sigh and impatient. She enjoyed teasing him to an extent, and enjoyed what she got from it.
Fenris pulled his clothes and armour on, looked for his blade before leaving the room and joining Hawke near the front door.
"Lead away," he said.
Hawke grasped the knob and they left the estate. The sun bore down on them and Fenris felt it in his clothes, his headache still throbbed on the sides of his head as he lowered his eyes to the cement. He followed Hawke through the winding streets before they stopped at a tavern that was not The Hanged Man.
"Why are we here?" he asked, expecting more dirt and grime, instead it was clean and smelled of soap as if the floors were just recently washed.
"To eat," Hawke said, sitting down near a window in the back. Fenris sat with him, feeling incredibly uncomfortable by the place they were in.
A woman came and Hawke told her what they wanted, and Fenris didn't object, he didn't want to look at her. Once she was gone, Fenris raised his eyes at Hawke who didn't look confused, more that he understood the place they were in.
"You enjoy seeing my discomfort?" Fenris asked.
Hawke smiled, "You think too much, it's not like that in the least. We haven't seen each other in some time, and Varric figured you were holed up in your estate again. I did hear from Isabela that she's seen you a few times, but I wanted to come in person."
Fenris thought this was strange, but Hawke was right. He hadn't left his mansion in awhile, and it wasn't like he didn't like going outside. It was just the thoughts hit him so frequently that he couldn't outright enjoy himself without them ruining his time. They simmered on the surface, but soon they will rise to torment him.
Even now, his skin itched, and his mind strained under the weight of being outside, of being near people. He never really had this problem, and he was quite social with his friends, but maybe he did stay in his mansion for too long.
The food came quick and Fenris stared down at the meat and vegetables on the side. A glass of wine sat in front of his food, and he reached for that first, the taste was cool against his tongue and he enjoyed it immensely.
"Besides the obvious," Hawke began as he cut into his meat, "how are you?"
Fenris placed the cup down. "I'm fine."
"Are you?" Hawke asked, glancing at him. "You don't seem fine in the least."
"When did you become observant?" Fenris inquired, a smile tugging at his lips.
"I've always been observant and you're avoiding the question."
"I answered fairly truthfully."
Hawke chewed on his food, his eyes stayed on Fenris who was staring down at his own, he reached for the fork and the knife, and he cut into the meat, a small piece that smelled divine. His mouth was dry, and he wished for the glass, but Hawke's scrutinizing gaze left him immobile.
He placed the food in his mouth and for a moment it was too much. The taste was overwhelming, and he sighed into it, but the thoughts returned full force upon his mind. The memories of the heat, the pain in his knees, and his arms, the screaming that left his throat badly raw for weeks. The things that he seen, the terrible bloodletting, the children who were sacrificed, and he, a loyal dog next to his master, not moving an inch to save any of them.
Why didn't he save them?
There were the excuses that he was only out for himself, that his life was his own and they were unfortunate subjects under the rule of magisters, and he would find a way to escape unlike the ones who couldn't even run, but scream their pain before going out like a light.
"Fenris," Hawke said, a little louder than he ought, and it startled Fenris who looked up.
His hands were shaking, the rest of his body was stiff, and the food was still in his mouth. He managed to swallow, breathing shallowly. "I'm sorry...there's too much on my mind."
Hawke wore an expression that didn't look like he believed him. But it was enough for Fenris who reached for his cup and drank slowly, trying to keep the rush of his memories from consuming him for too long.
Once he placed his cup down, he glanced at his food and wondered if he could stomach any of it. Maybe he couldn't, maybe the food would come up and he would fail himself again, like the people who didn't eat for days, that starved because a woman decided to be cruel, dragging her rage through their skin and yanking them by the hair.
"Fenris." A hand touched his own, and he blinked a few times, breathing hard, the hand was warm and it had brought him back from the intrusive thoughts, from the memories that tortured him. His own heart was racing in his chest, like a bird trying to escape a cage.
"I'm sorry," Fenris whispered, looking at Hawke's hand that was on his own, a tether that he didn't understand but yearned for, "I'm sorry...I think we should go."
Hawke nodded, slipping his hand from Fenris' who had to clench his teeth at the loss. "We will, and we'll head back to my place, the bed is a lot more comfortable."
Fenris smiled, a sensation rose inside of him that was unlike the pain, but it was the warmth that touched him, and excited him.
"We should go," he repeated.
Hawke nodded. "And we will, once we're finished eating."
Fenris frowned, he looked down at his food and didn't know if he could eat any of it, but he could try, and maybe he could rid himself of the terrible thoughts and memories that made him shake and feel nothing but emptiness.