Mmhm. Used to. Now I can eat solid, well-cooked food just like the rest of you dear creatures—
[And it isn’t bad. Really. Every last meal since he'd dared to branch out on arrival is a reminder that he's far, far from Cazador's grasp now.]
Although I...[he laughs, almost. It’s a little bitter, a little more thready and out of place] you know I find myself missing it all the same.
Blood, I mean.
I don’t even know if I could tolerate it anymore, let alone hunt anything down the way I used to.
[And he realizes in a flicker of a thought that he didn’t really mean to confess this much. But then again, Fenris already knows he’s different, and with all that kin and kindred spirit talk he’s fairly certain no pitchforks or torches are going to come rushing into view.
No, this is probably safe. No vampires in Thedas, after all.]
You could always spare a drop or two of yours, for old time’s sake.
[A mild pause, no doubt one where he’s found his own smirk again.]
Joking, of course.
No, I imagine the only thing I can do is keep on playing the diligent little soldier and hope that eventually I’ll learn that darkness means closing my eyes instead of opening them.
[But they’re sharing secrets in the moonlight now, aren’t they? If so, then perhaps...]
Why did you decide sleep earlier on? I didn’t think elves in this world were nocturnal.
I can say from experience I prefer my blood within my veins.
[No offense taken.]
We are not. Though seeing in the dark is an easy thing. I simply... have lived on the run these past years. I sleep when I am tired, not when politeness dictates.
[His own flight was quick. He was barely a full day into his freedom when he went to sleep unbound and woke up here instead— so in truth he really can’t picture a handful of years spent like that, not just yet.
No, not at all, now.]
And that’s why you joined up, I’m guessing? A little security watching your back, keeping you safe and warm.
Makes perfectly good sense to me, seeing as we’re birds of a mangled feather in the same sinking ship.
[That’s envy in his voice, of course, though not without approval: being free of Cazador is one thing, but now he supposes the most he can do is dream of dragging him screaming into daylight.
Ah well, it’s a comforting bedtime lullaby anyway. One he’ll keep close for as long as he lives.]
Still, you made the right choice, settling in alongside the rest of us. No point in going at it alone— that’s usually how martyrs earn their crowns, after all.
Oh but you should. I certainly know I would, if I were in your nonexistent shoes.
[A terrible choice, by the way, Fenris. How do you manage walking on city streets like that? Let alone rocky footpaths or— anything else, actually.
Seems like a nightmare.]
Well. Either way, it’s not terrible having you around. Do try to keep your head attached to your shoulders while you’re endeavoring to perform all those wild acts of noble heroism and whatnot.
Dear boy, you’re talking about risking your pretty little throat for people you barely even know. [No, on second thought, he likely doesn’t know them at all.]
You could be rending tormentors to death with blunted teeth and I’d still say that counts as a shining example of selflessness.
—well, then again, I’ve always been a touch overfond of violence. Nothing to do with my own vampiric nature at all, I’m sure.
I still know how to kill, if that’s what you’re asking.
[Even so, nice as the trade off has been, he does miss some of the power he’s lost— not that a vampire spawn is given all that much of his sire’s strength to begin with.
No, he might be a little weaker-boned, now, a little less physically resilient, but he can walk in daylight and bathe in hot water, bask in his own reflection and control utterly, entirely his own body. That alone is worth it.]
Roll persuasion 13 or higher, sir, if you want the rest of that dialogue tree.]
Fine, since we’re both telling secrets like a pair of yarded children. I haven’t really tested out what I’m capable of, aside from the fact that all my fingers and toes still work— that I’ve got a pair of daggers in need of a little exercise, and teeth that are still very much sharp enough to rend flesh.
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Well played.]
We vampires do our hunting at night.
I’m still not quite used to anything else.
[And with everyone else already sleeping like sweet little newborn babes, well...it gets unbearably quiet once the sun goes down.]
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You need to hunt?
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[And it isn’t bad. Really. Every last meal since he'd dared to branch out on arrival is a reminder that he's far, far from Cazador's grasp now.]
Although I...[he laughs, almost. It’s a little bitter, a little more thready and out of place] you know I find myself missing it all the same.
Blood, I mean.
I don’t even know if I could tolerate it anymore, let alone hunt anything down the way I used to.
[And he realizes in a flicker of a thought that he didn’t really mean to confess this much. But then again, Fenris already knows he’s different, and with all that kin and kindred spirit talk he’s fairly certain no pitchforks or torches are going to come rushing into view.
No, this is probably safe. No vampires in Thedas, after all.]
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There is a saying among the slaves of Tevinter. Etiam sic natus carceris, desidero dominus. Even those born in prison miss home.
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You know, I don't think I care for that saying.
[It isn't self-pity nor sadness. Just acrid. Bitter as bile on his tongue.]
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[But it is, like the gentle crash of waves outside, inescapable.]
If you don't need a hunting partner, what can be done?
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[A mild pause, no doubt one where he’s found his own smirk again.]
Joking, of course.
No, I imagine the only thing I can do is keep on playing the diligent little soldier and hope that eventually I’ll learn that darkness means closing my eyes instead of opening them.
[But they’re sharing secrets in the moonlight now, aren’t they? If so, then perhaps...]
Why did you decide sleep earlier on? I didn’t think elves in this world were nocturnal.
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[No offense taken.]
We are not. Though seeing in the dark is an easy thing. I simply... have lived on the run these past years. I sleep when I am tired, not when politeness dictates.
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No, not at all, now.]
And that’s why you joined up, I’m guessing? A little security watching your back, keeping you safe and warm.
Makes perfectly good sense to me, seeing as we’re birds of a mangled feather in the same sinking ship.
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[He says it calmly, but there is pride in that memory, and it bleeds into hid voice.]
Since then, I have focused my efforts on freeing others. I have made myself an enemy of the Venatori, and all those who would have me in chains again.
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[That’s envy in his voice, of course, though not without approval: being free of Cazador is one thing, but now he supposes the most he can do is dream of dragging him screaming into daylight.
Ah well, it’s a comforting bedtime lullaby anyway. One he’ll keep close for as long as he lives.]
Still, you made the right choice, settling in alongside the rest of us. No point in going at it alone— that’s usually how martyrs earn their crowns, after all.
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[He can understand, easily, this envy.]
I was in danger of no martyrdom. I simply realized I was stopping a symptom, not a cause. Hopefully what can be done here is more wide-reaching.
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[A terrible choice, by the way, Fenris. How do you manage walking on city streets like that? Let alone rocky footpaths or— anything else, actually.
Seems like a nightmare.]
Well. Either way, it’s not terrible having you around. Do try to keep your head attached to your shoulders while you’re endeavoring to perform all those wild acts of noble heroism and whatnot.
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You could be rending tormentors to death with blunted teeth and I’d still say that counts as a shining example of selflessness.
—well, then again, I’ve always been a touch overfond of violence. Nothing to do with my own vampiric nature at all, I’m sure.
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[Ah, sarcasm.]
Can you fight?
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[Even so, nice as the trade off has been, he does miss some of the power he’s lost— not that a vampire spawn is given all that much of his sire’s strength to begin with.
No, he might be a little weaker-boned, now, a little less physically resilient, but he can walk in daylight and bathe in hot water, bask in his own reflection and control utterly,
entirely his own body. That alone is worth it.]
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How you flatter me.
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[Yes.
Roll persuasion 13 or higher, sir, if you want the rest of that dialogue tree.]
Fine, since we’re both telling secrets like a pair of yarded children. I haven’t really tested out what I’m capable of, aside from the fact that all my fingers and toes still work— that I’ve got a pair of daggers in need of a little exercise, and teeth that are still very much sharp enough to rend flesh.
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Spar with me. Whatever the results, I am no gossip.
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Spar?
[He thinks this is a joke for a moment, and he laughs because of it— before he realizes he’s the only one laughing.]
Oh.
Well.
[It isn’t sputtering, just the momentary realignment of figuratively fluffed feathers.]
...first time for everything, I suppose.
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