An irritable mood, for Fenris, was a habit, a near perpetual norm. So when Andres woke to an elf sitting crosss-legged on the bed with a relaxed smile and holding out a cup of tea, Anders frowned skeptically and rolled over thinking he was still dreaming in the Fade.
Puzzled, Fenris looked down into the cup of tea and sniffed it uncertainly. No, it smelled right. "Mage? Do you not like tea when you wake up?"
Staring out at the room and hearing the familiar, if confused, rumble of Fenris' voice, Anders waited till he was sure he was fully awake before sitting up and facing the strangeness of a comfortable Fenris. He yawned hugely as Fenris wrinkled his nose, then he accepted the cup of tea. "I take it that you are feeling better? Did you eat?"
"Yes, and yes. I saved some for you." Fenris watched with a critical eye the mage's every slow pained movement. "You are not so well."
"Captain obvious has boarded the ship," the blond quipped then sighed. He shook his head, "No. I am having a hard time regaining my mana. I know I am not injured… but… I feel lacerated and broken inside, like my mana pool is punctured full of holes. I can heal it, but I don't have enough mana to do that and we are out of lyrium." The tea warmed him and food actually helped his recovery. He still felt mana lo but less stabbed. He watched Fenris rise from the bed like a stretching cat. That is when he noticed that over the casual leggings, Fenris wore the winter pants and a long-sleeved shirt. "Can you move and fight and access the lyrium power without pain?
Fenris flashed him a half grin that could have been a sign of joy or could just as easily said 'I am about to kill you.' Anders found it delightfully sexy, but kept the thought to himself. Fenris stepped to the middle of the room to show how easily he could move as he executed some of the fight exercises holding an imaginary blade. His feet, still bare, slid wide to lower his center of gravity. His arms arced as he moved through the sword dance, very slow and precise.
Anders missed watching this from the railing of the mansion. Anders, or maybe Justice. Felt the lyrium song hum through him even before the brands fully lit. "Oh," he breathed with pleasant surprise as it eased some of his own pain and filled his mana pool, which he immediately applied to self-healing and then just enjoyed absorbing more like fine liquor. Justice felt extremely content, perhaps even wanted more. Anders licked his lips, glad for the blankets covering his crotch.
"Oh?" asked Fenris with a raised curious eyebrow.
"Uh… your brands really do shine right through all clothing. I thought you were joking. You know, because they don't shine completely through your spirit armor." Amber eyes followed the lyrium lines from chin to toes and back up appreciatively.
Fenris willed himself not to move as he released his hold on the power, but red flushed through his face and ears. He decided he would never wear casual clothing in public without his spirit armor under or over. "Turn around, mage," he commanded.
Anders pouted, "Aw… but I liked the view." He turned anyways to allow Fenris some privacy.
Fenris stripped off the winter pants and replaced his casual leggings with his spirit armor leggings. He pulled the warm pants back on over the leggings and stuffed the casual clothes into his backpack. "We should be moving on," he threw Andres one of his typical scowls.
This time Fenris bundled against the cold outside. He even put on socks and boots. Anders helped him with scarf and cloak and then bundled himself, offering over warm gloves. Fenris felt uselessly encumbered and tried not to waddle awkwardly. There was no grace mummified like this. Anders commented, "It is too cold to dress any lighter. We'll hunker down for a bit once we get to the city." He gave Fenris a sympathetic look.
They took to the road and continued trudging toward the city. At least the wind had died down and the sky cleared for a while. The sun shone colorless in the sky above. Sadly, it did not last. Two days later, the sky truned a molten steel grey heavy with the threat of more snow to come.
By that afternoon, they passed a way station with the Chantry Sun inlaid in bright brass upon the door. In an unexpected, or perhaps somewhat expected fit, Justice rose to the surface and took over Anders. They burned the way station to the ground in a fury of vengeful mage fire. Hours later, for it took that long, Justice calmed enough for Anders to come back to himself. Some mild confusion accompanied the struggle between mage and spirit.
Fenris suggested a smaller road through the woods that should get them closer to their goal more swiftly. He watched the mage carefully, feeling every nuance and change and shift of magic in his brands. He did not relax his vigilance until Anders felt as much like the usual Anders as Fenris thought was likely to be, but he recognized that this was an ever changing state. Every week, there was a little more Justice than Anders, much like back in Kirkwall the year before the Fall. Well, that gave him a time reference… of only about a year to save Anders from Justice.
They passed by an old house that looked long neglected and forgotten. It must have been some woodcutter's home with a rotting roof, broken window and snow partially burying it on the lee-side, hindering access to the front door. Here they argued. Both cold. Both hungry. Both tired. Both out of sorts for a variety of reasons and night falling fast. Snarling at each other, they opted to walk on and set up a tent in the woods.
They huddled inside their small tent. Fenris resigned himself to pressing close to the mage. Anders had stretched himself out comfortably; hands tucked behind his head as he drowsily watched the roof of the tent darken with the heavy snowfall.
"Fenris, we'll go back to that little run down cabin we saw in the morning." The mage looked over at the shivering elf with some concern.
"I want to go now." Fenris sat up in a rush and pulled on a second layer of clothing. He even pulled on the soft cotton socks and sheepskin boots Anders had gotten him in the last village.
Taking down the tent in a snowstorm was very tricky. It got rolled haphazardly and stuffed into an enchanted backpack. It took much longer to tromp through the thick snowfall on the ground back to the ruined cabin than it did to go from cabin to camp when they first rejected the cabin.
"I told you we should have just stayed there!" Anders gestured widely as he spoke, much as he usually does when he is annoyed. Anders ignored the irritable growl he received from Fenris.
Fenris hated being cold. He hated being bundled enough to be encumbered. He hated things on his feet like boots. He hated how everything got wet from the snow to chill you anyways. He hated the wind that seemed to cut through everything.
The cabin seemed already half buried, more so than when they first passed it. Anders had to use magic to blast away the snow from the door. One of the windows was broken, but the shutters at least kept the worst of the winter out. Fenris grabbed some of the logs from the side of the cabin, skeptical if they would even light with their rot and dampness, and dropped them again at Anders sudden yell from within. His brands lit and Fenris streaked to the doorway.
A corpse lay almost a skeleton on the sofa inside, a dusty wine bottle tipped over on the floor by the hand. "Oh… is that all," Fenris drawled and headed back out for the wood he dropped.
Anders used a fraying blanket to wrap up the dry remains. "Well, at least it is so old it doesn't smell! I wonder if he died of old age or was poisoned by the wine."
"Who cares! Block the holes from the wind so we can sleep in some modicum of warmth in this vanhedis… Festan… COLD!"
Anders smothered a smirk. He didn't quite know why, but it was bloody amusing listening to impotent anger from the warrior elf. He went about stuffing fabric into the warn holes in the wooden sides or roof or into the windows. He found a broom and swept the floor of glass and dust. Fenris piled the wood by the fireplace, tracking snow back and forth from door to fireplace. Anders spread his arms exasperated, "I just cleaned!" He didn't see the corner of Fenris' mouth curve in amused vengeance.
Once all was cleaned… again, both agreed that the body could remain where it was and they would just not use the sofa. Respecting the resting place of the cabin's owner in their way. Anders blasted fire through the fireplace and up through the chimney to clear it and then got the fire going.
Fenris conceded the benefit of magic for being able to dry wood and create a warm fire. They stripped down to sleeping clothes in order to allow their winter clothing to dry by the fire. After dumping his pack and seeking a few items, Fenris stood at the intact glass window which had no shutters, just staring out at the heavily falling snow.
Anders unpacked all their gear and repacked it better, leaving out bedrolls and blankets by the fireplace. He rummaged around the little kitchen area and found a pot he could boil water in or cook in and hooked it into place over the fire. Anders looked over at the elf, who was out of his cumbersome clothing, and the much disliked boots, but wore the thick cotton socks Anders insisted he put on. Fenris was wiggling his toes in the soft socks trying to stir feeling back into them. The mage thought that was almost as adorable as purring kittens. Anders hung their wet cloaks on pegs on either side of the mantle to dry and lined their boots close to the fire. "Did you put on dry socks?" Anders asked.
The elf nodded from where he stood, still staring at the falling snow. He wrapped his arms around himself trying not to visibly shiver as he was still cold. Here in Fereldon, it was very different from where he came from. Minrathous was north, far north with deserts and tropical forests. Fenris just could not get used to this inclement cold weather.
Anders came to stand behind him, being a bit taller and definitely built with a larger frame, he easily looked over the tall elf's shoulder. He noted the slight shiver from the warrior and frowned with a hint of pity. He tugged off his thick fleece sweater. "Here," Anders pulled it over Fenris' head. There was a brief snarl of surprise, a bit of wrestling and grumbling till the elf gave in and shoved his arms through the sleeves. Fenris turned his back on Anders again, refusing to look at the mage. Anders smiled to himself for the victory. He stepped back and asked, after giving Fenris a few minutes to calm down from the indignity of being manhandled into a sweater, "Better?"
Fenris grunted. Then he nodded. The sleeves were way too long, the shoulders too broad on him. It was like putting a child into an adult sweater. But it was blessedly much warmer, especially for having been prewarmed by Anders' body heat. He sighed almost content and brought his hands under his chin, only the ends of his fingers stuck out the sleeves. That was alright, it kept his hands warm. He caught the front of the sweater's collar in those fingers and brought it up, just under his nose. When he could hear Anders preparing tea and thought he was not looking, Fenris inhaled Anders' scent from the sweater.
Anders saw.
Anders smiled softly but said nothing to disturb what he witnessed. He quietly finished preparing tea. "Tea is ready," he said some time after. "And your bedroll is even warm." He stood and stirred the fire, not telling Fenris that he had been sitting upon the elf's bedroll to warm it.
Fenris turned away from the window, his mood significantly milder now that he was no longer freezing cold. He accepted the mug of tea and sat upon his warmed bedroll.
Anders watched him briefly, "Sleep with the sweater on tonight. I don't need it." Fenris nodded and murmured a quiet thank you. "I think we will be snowed in for a bit, so tomorrow, we'll see what the cabin has to offer. I'll warm the sweater throughout the day and you can wear it again tomorrow evening."
They sat quietly together, sipping tea and watching the fire.
