Maker help him.
Hawke was on a cleaning spree of the estate.
That meant she was either stone blind drunk or in a foul mood. Both ideas did not sit well with him.
Fenris edged around the door way cautiously, damned if he was afraid, but even he knew better than to interrupt her in a soapy rampage.
"Oh, ser, thank goodness you're here." Hawke's mother sighed spotting the elf form her place in the lounging room's doorway and what a distressed look she had…
He swallowed thickly,
"What's caused such a disturbance in her mood?" He grumbled as a shoe was thrown over the balcony with a furious shout of curses following it, those looked like the ones she'd worn to that gala too…not that Fenris could really confirm that, he didn't really see her shoes that night. The elder woman gestured him forward to the fire lit room and he followed quickly enough to dodge the chair that was chucked from the top floor.
"My daughter seems to have appeared in a…wrathful mood after she returned from the Stonehart's, Maker knows why, but she did scream some thing about their youngest son being a…well, you could imagine." Leandra Amell explained to him with a grand sigh which seemed to take all energy left out of her and she took a seat.
Well surprise, surprise. Nobles had yet again pissed the down to earth mage, how unpredictable. Fenris cast his olive eyes to the mountain forming trash being thrown out on to the main floor and even caught the hint of burning from upstairs. His smile was tight
"I'm suspecting you wish me to calm her?" He muttered dryly while Leandra looked out from under her hand that covered her eyes
"Oh no! I couldn't ask you to do such a thing! She'd surely cause some sort of harm, even if my best furniture is being tossed from the second floor, oh, and there goes my late husband's favourite stool." She groaned sinking down even more in to the armchair and Fenris suddenly knew where Hawke got her acting from, he twitched and turned on his heel and marched to the doorway and paused seeing some more books come flying near him, second thought, he may need that fire poker…
How dare he! That impotent, little, spoiled, high assed brat! She should have popped him like a fucking balloon! That would have taught the slime licking, fat faced little shit! She gave a cry of anger before tossing a book behind her and looked towards the bed and seeing a small stain on them (wonder where the hell that came from? Ahem.) and tore them off and felt fire prickle at her finger tips as her nails ripped in to the thin material with such ferocious force it even gave some pain to the skin on her palms. Fire crackled to life igniting the sheets.
Did Fenris say sword? He meant PRIEST.