@kirkwalled.

[broodypants]

They say there's a ghost in the old manor at the end of Broad Street.

There are a lot of ghosts in that area. The ghost of industry, mostly. The steel mill closed down, and all the good jobs went with it, and that part of the city's just collapsing. All the capes steer clear of it, mostly because the only thing you'll find is a mugging, it's not the sort of thing that'll get you on the news, get endorsements, funding.

Rumors haunt this place as well. Tales of what the inhabitants of the old manor used to do. The Alexius Coven, they called it, and street children disappeared into its dark depths with worrisome regularity. But the inhabitants had the money to buy a blind eye from the law, and people learned not to ask too many questions, or get too close to the manor at night.

They, too, left this part of town. All that remains is a haunted manor, and a missing child. The mother, frantic, calls whoever she can, finally catching up with an old friend, someone who will do the work pro bono. She says the covenites, the witches and wizards of Alexius are still around, lurking in the manor's depths. She says her son went in the manor on a dare and never came out.

Fenris has heard it all from the vagrants that he allows to sleep on the bottom floors in exchange for food and information. It's a brisk trade, so long as they don't get rowdy. For himself, he takes the master bedroom, and keeps everything locked up tight. This manor is dead, but it isn't safe.

Thankfully, none of his vagrants (his vagrants? When did that start?) are around when someone tries sneaking in a window on the ground level. The old oak doors are bolted shut, but several of the windows are blown in and boarded up. It isn't hard to get in, but it is inadvisable. Most don't, either from fear or genuine disinterest.

Fenris perches at the top of a winding balcony caked in dust. He knows just how his voice will echo into the foyer. "I suggest you leave."

Comments

[broodypants]

"No," he says with a hard edge to his voice, all other discussion forgotten. "And you aren't, either." The lyrium in his skin would have crackled with sympathetic magic, let him know immediately. The squatters who crawl around the Alexius House know no mages are allowed. Then again, very few drifters are mages. They have other opportunities, other fears, that drive them off the streets.

He turns away from her then, to begin walking down one of the manor's many curving hallways. She's welcome to follow him. She's welcome to stab him in the back. If she tries the latter, he'll be ready and waiting. And if he follows, well... It's been a while, he has to admit, since he's had a conversation that was unique, interesting, not some kind of transaction. He'd like to drag it out.

"Let's leave Leopold out of this," he mutters, referring to the vagrant who gave him the information. "I couldn't find him if I tried. But if the boy was looking to get rich, and he spent some time here... there are several artifacts he could have been sniffing around for."

[kirkwalled]

The hardness surprises her, makes her lift an eyebrow in question but she says nothing. So, definitely not a mage but perhaps anti-mage? She knows there's still conflict there, discussions over mages and their ability to roam freely. There are some countries where it's live and let live, some where the mages are in charge, and some like their own where the Templars work to keep them in check, for the most part. It's not illegal to be a mage anymore per se but, ah, men with power as it were...

Still, she does lift a shoulder in a shrug when he states that she isn't. She's seen mages at their worst and at their best, hasn't really decided where she lands yet. She trusts her father, that's as far as she can say. No, she learned other ways growing up -- fighting with fists, knowing how to swing a bat, shoot a gun. She was in the military for a while before deciding it wasn't for her. She drank dragon blood as a teenager, felt the power course through her veins and knew she'd only use it to protect. It wasn't much use for her in the end, but she still tries her best.

Without really thinking about it, she starts following Fenris does the hall. She should probably be on the defensive -- if he's leading her into an attack or something, but... she can't bring up the sensation that he is. He seems as straightforward as anything else and she'd honestly be terribly disappointed if he tried to kill her. She'd kill him in turn, yes, but she'd be sad about having to do it.

So, she falls in step with him, hands sliding into the pockets of her jeans as she watches him curiously as he talks. She wishes she could see his entire face, thinks there might be a handsome man under there but all she really has are his eyes, his nose, the tuffs of white hair poking out of his rags.

"You make a habit of keeping valuable artifacts lying around your manor, Fenrs?" His name is nice on her tongue, she thinks she'd like to say it again.

[broodypants]

Fenris walks with calm through the cobwebbed halls of the mansion people now think is his. Maybe it is his. No one else has any real claim. But this manor used to be his prison; it's hard to think that he owns it.

And does that make him its jailer?

He keeps walking. "It wasn't always mine," he says, gruff and grim. He wants to dissuade this notion of involvement in the black pit this place is, the weight of corruption pulling the alone and lonely into its orbit. Maybe he owns it, but he did not make it the way it is. Of course, that begs the question: why does he care what she thinks, if he's never going to see her again after today?

He puts the thought from his mind, and opens a door into an expansive room filled with... nothing. Darkness. It's dark enough that the floor and roof can't be seen. There is simply a wall of dark, and sound does not even echo from its depths. Light disappears into it, sound becomes lost, and heat slips away.

Alexius called it 'the hungry darkness'. Fenris calls it a good example of why not to open random doors in this place.

"The previous owners had interesting taste in interior design," he says, dry. He closes the door. "I've destroyed what I can. The rest can only be watched. Some can grant power, not riches, but the two are often confused."

[kirkwalled]

Hawke has to wonder for a moment if Fenris is trying to dissuade her from sticking around or interest her enough to do so. She has a feeling that the man might not know himself. No, she's almost certain that the two of them are in the same spot -- curious but guarded, hers through humor and his through a frosty attitude. Yet, he continues to show her more, continues to engage her, and has let her tag along with him as they walk. She decides then that she should keep Fenris as a contact, if nothing else. She has a network of people who she can go to for things (though few in the way of actual friends) and he'd be a good resource.

When Fenris opens the door, Hawke's reaction is quick -- a squint into the darkness and she picks up a small piece of debris from the ground. Tossing it into the darkness, she waits to hear it hit the floor. It... doesn't and all Hawke can do is let out a soft huh as Fenris pulls the door shut.

(She thinks she hears an echoing huh before the door snaps tight. It sends a shudder through her and if she steps a little closer to Fenris as they walk, that's her business.)

They're moving on and Hawke runs a hand through her hair, scrubbing at the dark fluffy hair as her brain processes everything. The kid left, Fenris said, and yet she wonders what else is there. Did he find something? Did he get lost? Did he... not actually leave? This is starting to feel more complicated than she thought it would be and maybe she should've haggled for more than a few cinnamon buns. Hell, some milk would be nice too.

"Alright, house isn't yours. You're just here for reasons you probably don't want to tell a complete stranger. I can understand that much, at least."

She shrugs and tries to shoot a friendly smile at Fenris, wanting to be approachable. She knows he'd hiding something -- you don't wear that many layers in the middle of August unless you're covering something up, good lord. So, she focuses on something else. The kid again. She begins to talk, just sort of thinking out loud as they go.

"I'm starting to feel there was more going on in this kid's head than he let on. If you were a young kid who needed to get rich quick, quickly enough that you'd chase ghosts, what would you find valuable in this place? It's all black magic and fade nonsense. Is there a store of red lyrium in here? That junk goes quick and gets a lot of money but it's hard to handle for even non-mages. If there was nothing noticeable off about him when he left, that's probably not it."

She scrubs her face then, letting out a frustrated noise. What's up with this kid? What the hell did he find and where the hell did he go? She can't help but mutter then, kicking at the ground -- "Fucking moron doesn't even realize how worried his mom is, I bet."

[broodypants]

"Red lyrium?" That stops Fenris in his tracks... and then speeds ahead. Not at full pace-- he doesn't want the markings to shine through his clothing and give him away. But he's still quick, even if it's just as quick as an elf is, not preternatural. Not yet. "We must check the stores."

When did this become we?

"I did not think anyone foolish enough to steal- to sell-" In case it wasn't obvious, Fenris doesn't get out much.

[kirkwalled]

There's a raised eyebrow at Fenris' sudden change in demeanor and she skips forward to keep pace with him, walking quickly as she follows him deeper into the manor. For a moment, Hawke wonders if she should be a bit more careful -- following a stranger deep into a cursed manor to check on a store of red lyrium? This is why Varric took out life insurance on her, honestly. Which is fair and someone might as well get paid if she super dies.

"You don't get out much, do you?" She asks, amused despite herself. Yeah, it's pretty obvious. "Red lyrium is the most expensive form of lyrium on the market at the moment. Illegal ten times over because of the poisoning but it's so rare it's hard to monitor it. Some people have found stores of it pop up in their basements and you think they're going to call the Templars when just a handful of the stuff can set them for life? Of course not."

It's the purest get rich quick scheme these days and it's -- well, it's all Hawke's fault. She found the first store and fucking Bartrand is the one who spread it. She didn't know, she never could have predicted what would happen with it and every time someone dies on account of the stuff -- it's on Hawke. She has to live with that weight and that's why she does... this. She lays low, she solves problems, she waits for her time to come.

God, if this kid got his hands on red lyrium and something happens to him --

... Well, it'd be pretty par for the course when it comes to Hawke's life, huh?