Fenris turned down Orana's offer to plate him, snagging a piece of dried meat and an apple before heading for the door. The children were already seated at the table for breakfast, talking in low voices to each other and shooting him looks that they probably thought were discreet.
The amber-eyed one, mage his mind whispered, brushed her magic against his markings, the little tingle making her eyes widen in surprise.
He slipped outside, into the warm summer morning. The skies were dark with clouds, air humid in a heavy breath that promised a downpour.
He'd not forgotten what Hawke had told them the night before - of Blood Mages and a plan of attack to confront them. He also knew that their group was particularly prone to being ambushed, and a bit of foreknowledge of their numbers and location would likely help avoid the worst consequences from that.
As the first sprinkle of warm rain broke, Fenris realized that for all Kirkwall was awful at being a safe and crime-free city, it excelled in water management. The curved cobbles and divots at the sides of streets easily funnelled water downhill, across steep channels to dump whatever waste and grime had been swept up into the sea.
The trickles around his feet never stood freely, never given the chance to become fetid or spread disease.
He stopped at his house, replenishing what few potions he kept on-hand, pausing to oil his sword and the leather joints of his armor, not wanting the moisture to swell and lock them together. If anything happened, he'd need all the flexibility he could get.
When he ducked out, the steady rain had become a deluge, roaring against rooftops and spattering in dramatic waterfalls off the eaves. The gleaming black eyes of rats watched him from a corner, their bodies dark with water as they huddled together in a small dry spot.
He passed the Alienage, a few of the children still out in the heavy rain, laughing and kicking water at each other, their parents steadily watching him walk from their sheltered doorsteps. One of the children paused, opening their mouth to catch some of the rain on their tongue. As one, the others followed, rain on the leaves of their Vhenadahl drowning out even the sound of Fenris' own footsteps.
A half-dozen tiny figures facing the sky in perfect stillness while the world flowed in liquid movement and the soft smell of rain blanketed them all, thunder rumbling in a low growl as the monstrous clouds passed over them.
It lasted only for a few beats of his heart before the spell broke and one of them ducked down to toss a handful of black mud at another. Chaos broke loose in screams and laughter, and Fenris moved on, leaving harried parents to duck out into the rain and scold their children about ruining clothes with dark stains.
The journey down to Darktown was less pleasant, the warm water loosening and dampening things that had dried over, prompting them to release their scent anew. Fenris wrinkled his nose against it, but still strode resolutely past the rag-adorned and skittish humans eyeing the gleam of his armor and the length of his sword. He could hear the calculations running in his head, weighing the possibility of profit against that of death. They clearly decided to live.
Water drained down through pipes and furrows in the stone, dripping wet from low ceilings and pooling where rubbish formed small dams. A few stubborn refugees were prowling up and down the entrance to Darktown, poking rubbish until it flowed with the rest of the thickening rivers, down toward the sewers proper. Living in the worst part of the city as they may be, some still strove to keep what little they could clean, still took slivers a pride in what few possessions and space they could lay claim to.
He stepped around the dark, rushing water, skirting down the path past Abomination's clinic simply because it was the one he was most familiar with. Fenris glanced inside, finding it empty but for the red-gold head of hair lowered over a book, quill looping across the bottom of a page. He brushed past the doorway, ignoring the startled "Fenris?" behind him as the Abomination realized he was there.
The deeper he went, the thicker the smell became, and He stubbornly bore through it, knowing his nose would adjust the longer he stayed. It became a bit more difficult, jumping from dry patch to dry patch, toes splaying for grip, hands out to catch on stone walls and abandoned, half-rotted wooden structures before a stone stairway finally curved up away from the growing sea of rainwater and filth.
He rubbed his feet off on the edge of a stone banister, scraping his heel on a stair with a grimace of disgust to get a clingy bit of... hopefully mud, off before continuing. The Maleficar were supposedly down in Darktown - through the sewers. He'd have to be careful from thereon out.
A few hallways of dry stone curved through the sewers, past a few lone stragglers sitting atop spindly legged hutches themselves perched over the flowing water, protecting the few belongings they had through isolation.
He noticed when the spindly structures grew more frequent, until a sort of penninsula branched off of one of the sewer's bridges, hanging out over a veritable lake. Colorful tents were perched upon the platform, figures moving between them in the distance. He edged back to lean into the shadow of a corner, silently evaluating whether or not these people were the ones he was looking for. He tilted his head, listening closely over the splash of flowing water and low murmur of voices from the dozen or so little abodes.
He picked out a man talking, loud and irritated, only the words 'my wife' and 'promised' being evident, before his voice cut off abruptly. Fenris frowned, peaking around the corner to check if he could sneak any closer.
A touch of magic brushed against his markings, and the scuff of stone behind him.
He stiffened, turning sharply, but a blade pressed against the side of his throat, cold metal stinging the lyrium where it magic brushed again, almost familiar, and a voice murmured,
"Well, you're not someone I expected to see."
Fenris held still, ready to flash into a ghost if he needed to, eyes turned as far as he could to try to catch a glimpse of the woman behind him.
"Who were you expecting?" He growled, and she huffed something like a laugh.
"Another customer, for one. Something about the rain makes people think it's a perfect time to sneak around, asking for their naughty wishes to be fulfilled." The blade came away from his neck, and he slowly turned.
"So what is it for you?" She asked lightly, "Are you here to get a wish granted?" Her skin was dusky - Antivan, maybe, The clothes she wore were black and gold, heavily adorned with the metal in twisting rings. He caught a gleam of pink, and looked up into black sclera, gleaming silver irises, and streaks of vibrant pink stretching out from the corners of her eyes.
Desire Demon.
He jumped back from her, reaching up for his blade, and felt the twist of the Fade around him. A dark figure stepped out from the pathway across from him, and several more abandoned the tents to approach. His markings flared, but already his mind was calculating how to make an escape. Past the demon? Into the lake below? He didn't know how deep it was, and swimming in such filth did not appeal to him.
He was strong, yes, but he knew when he was outnumbered and cornered. His Lyrium would help, but it did not make him invulnerable.
"No? Pity, I had hoped. You are quite interesting, after all." That prod again, sliding up the back of his neck like a cold caress. His eyes snapped back to the demon, or… was she a demon? She had to be. No one else had those eyes, but she lacked the horns and tail. But... he knew the influence of magic. He could feel the skitter of it in the air, like venomous insects laying in wait.
"Would you rather we fight?" She glanced to his sword handle, and he carefully lowered his hand.
"If it's the same to you," His tone was perfectly polite and very cold. "I'd prefer to just leave."
She pouted at him, and the twitchy static of magic shifted a little.
"But I wanted to play ," She whined, "And you have so many wishes just bubbling in there."
The robed figures encircled them, and the demonic woman sauntered toward him, the dagger gestured like it was a simple stick.
"So heartick. Always ready to fight because that's the only response to fear you know. The only way to survive." Fenris watched her warily, feeling her magic poke and prod, skitter like centipedes along his lyrium. "One could have guessed." He did she mean play?
She sighed, bringing the knife to her lips and kissing it absently, flesh against cold silver in a touch that would have been more at home on the head of a loyal pet than any weapon.
"So, darling… what's your wish? What's your desire ?"
Fenris bristled slightly, turning to keep her in view as she circled.
"I have none that you can fulfil." He bit out.
"No?" Her innocent voice only raised his hackles further. "But your heart disagrees, you know. It's yearning for someone, despite all the darkness." She moved, quicker than a snake, away from him faster than he could lash out with his armor claws. Her flowing clothes settled back into place as she raised the dagger to her lips, and he anxiously realized she'd managed to nick his arm. That she had his blood.
"Oh, you're in love . That's so sweet ." She tossed a careless grin toward one of the people in the circle. "No, really, it is sweet. The one he desires is tangled up in all that darkness. A hero - our city's Champion." Several of the people shifted uneasily, and Fenris felt his heart leap as the magic shifted, rising from around the circle. His markings flared to life, and he reached for his sword again. The black-eyed woman didn't seem to care.
"And while a whole city admires his strength, you? You champion his restraint. A mage who you couldn't tell was a mage. Can't tell, until he's using that magic of his. Oh, or touching you. And you like it when he touches you, don't you? When you should be disgusted, you crave him instead."
He felt himself bare his teeth without really meaning to, carefully placing his feet to keep her within eyeshot as she circled. "And why do you think you know this?" He asked, voice barely above a growl. Fenris felt an angry flush crawl up his neck, both from her hungry descriptions of what was supposed to be an intimate moment and the acknowledgement itself. The contrary feelings were quite plain to his own heart.
"It's just a little parlor trick, darling, Don't worry." She shrugged, ever casual. "A girl's got to eat after all."
"What would a Demon want with food?"
Black eyes widened, blinking at him.
"Oh? You couldn't tell?" She pointed at herself with one finger, eyes wide enough to almost look innocent.
"This body's mortal. It still needs food. The darling who offered herself to me was just the epitome of desire. She wanted to be wanted, and I love to make peoplewant . A lovely little trade, don't you think?" The demon- no, the Abomination spun on her toes, spreading her arms like she was presenting herself.
"And some people need a little help, untangling their thoughts, their pasts. Satisfying their desires is even better than the coin they provide, so really, a good trade on all accounts." She bounced, clapping her hands. "I can tell you how to keep yourself in his heart, you know, how to break him. All I ask from you... Well, I would love to ask you to keep him away. But the handle of the leash you have on your arm, you couldn't pull it tight enough to stop him if you wanted. You own him. I think he'd wait forever. But he is still a free man in the eyes of the law." Her tiny grin showed a flash of a sharp canine, and he realized her hood was covering the points of elven ears. "Rather convenient for you, isn't it?"
Fenris carefully noted the explanation, regarding her with renewed wariness at the offer. (And a sliver of mad, desperate hope, that she really was telling the truth - that Hawke felt at least some portion of the heedless devotion that he did.)
"I am not interested in any deal tonight." A heart won through deceit and manipulation... or worse, magic. No, that was not for him. He shifted, still painfully mindful magic humming around him, and Hawke's use of plurals at the bar. Blood mages.
"Aw, that's so sweet. You're so caught up on him. Well, just for giving a bitter little heart a sight of something greater than herself, I'll give you one... hint. Nothing that someone else with eyes couldn't tell you themselves?" She stopped in front of him, folding her arms, frowning and staring at him as if she were staring through him, unsettling icy eyes peircing him deeper than he thought possible. "That man loves his family. If you don't want to make his life difficult, impossible even, get used to the idea of those little girls. Especially the mage. His goal is a noble one, after all. To make another mage like him. From you're heart, that'll be no easy feat." She sighed softly. "I'm shocked even now, darling. I could give you answers about before, the man you were, the people from your dreams, and your heart still cared more for his opinion of you."
"How would you know any of that?" he said stiffly, wanting to snarl that she was just spying, that the Hawke affairs were public enough that she was simply smoke and mirrors about reading into the heart of things, but- He hadn't told anyone else, about the memory loss. About the bitter reaching toward memories he couldn't even remember having, let alone what they may contain. A part of him had been carved out, re-shaped into a slave and then again into a warrior. He had nothing- he WAS nothing, but the torture inflicted upon him, and the shell of a person clawing their way to safety. To vengeance.
But no. She was right. He'd forget again if it meant keeping Hawke safe.
And that scared him.
He glanced toward the exit, contemplating whether or not she would release him unscathed, or if he'd have to fight out. "If you know what is coming- who, is coming, then why are you still here? Do you think his heart will be any easier to sway than mine?"
"And who's to say that I won't pack up and run as soon as you walk away?" She said with a shrug, "I only know because you know. I only found out when you arrived." There was a press, a feeling to stay. Longer, longer. There was still more to find out here. What was in those tents?
"I could always give you those times back. It'd take a little time, but I certainly have the means. Hm... but what to ask for in return? What could you lose for a wish like that?" Her hand reached up, a hair's breadth away from brushing his chin, trying to make him look at her without actually touching. "Surely, you aren't frightened of me, without your mage dog here to protect you~?"
The way she said it- the crawl of magic itching and biting at his markings: Fenris stepped away. He felt his heart sighing, singing, craving to know more about the little tents and what lay within. Just a little more time, he had plenty of it! No.
No.
That was the magic and its venom, and that wasn't what Hawke would want him to do. To stay here alone, against an unknown number of mages- no, against blood mages and an Abomination.
He'd probably fought against worse odds before, but the sickly sweet things she pulled from his heart were too close for comfort. Fenris stepped back and drew his sword in a fluid motion, watching her carefully for any sign of aggression.
She sighed. "Struck a nerve, have I? The rest of you will have to stay hidden. I'll see you tonight. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll be able to play with you yet." She blew him a kiss and headed back to the tents, the mages parting their ranks to let her through.
He and the circle stood at an impasse for a long moment, his markings shimmering in the wet darkness before they finally stepped aside to allow him to walk carefully toward the exit.
Fenris did not put away his sword until he had traveled safely back into Lowtown.
The words she had pulled from his heart were... unsettling. What had she found that she hadn't said aloud?
He was tempted to return to demand answers.
He also knew some desires were best left unsated.