fadewalk | RP: Fenris (broodyfadewalk)

Anders was...having a conversation with himself, and wandering through Skyhold aimlessly in the meantime. Which was not as crazy as it sounded because he did share his body with a Fade spirit, after all.

He was certainly not brooding.

...maybe a little.

He could have sworn Varric had shown up to take over watching over Hawke for a spell, but time was weird in this place, and to hear Varric tell it, he had been gone - to another realm entirely? For perhaps more days than Anders thought had actually passed. Not that there were days and nights in this place to tell time by, but still. It meant that he had in fact left Hawke alone for who knows how long, and thankfully apparently nothing had happened - she seemed well on the mend, actually, but Anders still felt oddly guilty about the whole thing.

He huffed and focused instead on this new Varric - Hawke reveal. Now, at the time, he'd expected Varric's overly stubborn grief over his Hawke to be just typical Varric - no matter what way you looked at it, Hawke and Varric had always been close. That much was unlikely to change even between different versions of history, right? In retrospect, however, Varric had seemed pretty...distraught.

Anders waited for the inevitable huff of disapproval from Justice's corner of his brain, but the spirit hummed in interest instead. SHE DESERVES HAPPINESS. IT IS ONLY JUST, Justice offered, and when Anders countered that Hawke had claimed to be happy already, Justice just sort of...snorted. NOT EVEN YOU BELIEVE THAT, ANDERS.

Anders conceded the point, and realized he wasn't entirely sure where in Skyhold they had wandered to. He still hadn't slept, and sudden exhaustion weighed down his limbs. Then there was a bluish glow from down some corridor ahead of him, and Anders found his feet moving towards it without really stopping to judge the wisdom of that action.

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He had been taken by Danarius, he had no weapon, and he could hear footsteps moving toward him--quickening as every second passed. Fenris drew in a quiet hiss and pulled back, ready to defend himself. He would fight to the death if that's what it took to stay free.

When he saw someone pass through the doorway, he reacted without waiting, lunging to grab the man by the throat and slam him back against the wall, other hand flaring bright as it plunged toward his chest.

His fingertips had actually started to slip through clothes and skin when he met Anders' eyes.

Immediately, Fenris jerked back, blue light fading as he stumbled away. A new kind of terror was spiking inside him--he could have crushed Anders' heart--and its bitterness found its way into his voice. "You," he said.

Did I hurt you? he didn't add. Couldn't add.

Anders had turned toward the light and maybe it was hope, raw and desperate and unvoiced, in his chest that made his steps quicken, but he knew - he knew that shade of flickering blue. He didn't let himself think it so much as feel it, but he hurried. And then abruptly there strong fingers and sharp metal around his throat and he felt something crack in his back as his spine met the wall. There was pain, searing pain, in his chest, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, could feel only blind panic and fear welling up within him and he clawed as much at the memories - templarspaindarknessnohelpplease - as at the hand around his throat.

Justice came roaring to the forefront of his senses, lending his strength, his wrath, and then the light was fading and the hands were letting him go and Justice, freed now, straightened with a wordless roar.

...except it was Fenris in front of them, stumbling away, his maker-damned beautiful green eyes even bigger than usual. But the song, the song in Fenris's lyrium that always gave his presence away hadn't preceded him, and Justice faltered, confused, tilting Anders' head to listen for it.

There. It was quieter than usual, and Justice snarled again at the wrongness of this not-Fade place yet again. Anders used his distraction to push the spirit back, and the blue cracks faded from their skin.

Anders coughed, slumping and putting one hand against the wall behind him to brace himself, the other going to his throat. He summoned a quick healing spell to dispel the bruises already forming on his neck and fix whatever had cracked in his back.

Fenris took a hesitant step forward, one hand lifting--but he let it drop before he touched the other man.

He'd hurt him. Badly.

Venhedis, of course he had. When had Fenris ever touched anything that he didn't eventually break?

"I...apologize," he said, voice gravel-rough. "I did not realize it was you. Are you--" Fenris wet his lips. "I apologize," he said again instead.

An apology was certainly not the first thing Anders had expected, particularly not after the bitterness in that "You" Fenris had just spouted at him. Anders blinked rapidly, his hand drifting down from his throat to his chest. Not the other Fenris that was in this place, the one in love with a Hawke who was a man, then? And the hand - this Fenris had nearly reached for him. Unless Anders' overtired mind was playing tricks on him.

He fought hard to keep the surge of irrational hope shoved down and locked away. Was it possible this was his...

"...Fenris?"

"Clearly. Or did that blow knock you blind?"

The tone wasn't as sharp as the words, however, and he let his gaze flick up and down Anders, checking to make sure he was all right. He could have sworn he heard a sound like a snapping twig that made him restless and bitter inside.

"Are you well?" he finally demanded.

Anders gave a crooked grin, the sharpness in Fenris's voice setting him as much at ease as Marian Hawke's affectionate touches and bad jokes. There was a sharp ache in his chest - this was Fenris, in front of him, worried and gorgeous and present and suddenly all Anders could think of was wrapping his arms around him and burying his head in Fenris's chest and just - inhaling him. But he still didn't know if this was the right Fenris, and doing that had at least an 80% chance of getting his heart ripped out from his chest. All the way, this time.

And then Fenris was demanding to know if he was well, and Anders' breath hitched in his throat and oh, Maker he was going to cry, he was not going to cry, he was not.

"I'm all right, love," he choked out around the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes. He waved a hand about vaguely. "Spirit healer, yes?"

The noise Fenris made at the endearment was very close to cat whose tail had been stomped. His eyes went wide, then narrowed...and a delicate flush crept across his cheeks and eartips.

"You are mad," he said, but, tellingly, he didn't pull away as another Fenris might have. "Where are we? Who took us? Where is," there was a slight hesitation, "Hawke?"

Anders clapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head violently at the unintended endearment, sure for a few seconds his life was definitely forfeit. But Fenris blushed instead of scowled, and Anders swallowed heavily.

He scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes.

"It's...a long story," he said, pushing his luck and stepping closer. His hands twitched uselessly at his sides with the urge to touch, but he resisted. Barely. "This is Skyhold. Or a weird, sort-of in the Fade and sort-of not, version of it, anyways. I guess it's a fortress in Ferelden? We don't know who brought us here, or why. There's a lot of us, though, from different times, different histories. There's a Hawke named Marian who is in love with Varric, of all people, and another Fenris who is in love with a Hawke who is a man, and - my old Warden Commander Neria Surana, others. But Cosa, she - she isn't here. It's just been me, for days and days; even Neria comes from a world where that Marian is Hawke."

He ran a hand through his hair and noticed it was shaking. His lack of sleep was definitely catching up with him.

Fenris reached out to catch Anders' chin, pulling it down so their eyes met. He never would have touched Anders before this...complication...happened between them, but now it was instinctual. Easy.

"You are making no sense," he said. Then he narrowed his eyes. "You are exhausted."

Anders jerked at the touch, surprised, letting out a whoosh of air from his lungs.

He pushed his chin forward into Fenris's fingers, greedy for more contact, and brought his hand from his own hair to touch Fenris's white hair wonderingly, the touch tentative, twitchy, ready to be pulled away at a moment's notice.

"Well, yes, but that's not the point," he mumbled. "I'm serious, Fenris, we got dragged to some weird asscrack of the Fade, us and a whole lot of other strange people."

Fenris didn't pull away from the touch.

"It will be the point if you become a liability." Which was just Fenris's way of being worried for Anders. "I will need more explanation. This does not make sense. How are we in the Fade?"

He actually shuddered at the word, though it was subtle, and not as strong a reaction as it would have been before. Weirdly, becoming...fond...of Anders and Justice had made him more relaxed about such things, though he'd likely never be comfortable.

Anders shrugged.

"It's not the Fade, exactly - Justice keeps going on about how wrong it is and there aren't any demons or spirits or anything. Well, except for that one envy demon we killed, but that one got dragged here the same as the rest of us because it was locked in battle with one of the women who showed up. It's just - one moment we're wherever we are, on the deck of a ship with Hawke and you, and then the next we're here, and there are a few people - Neria and this Inquisitor person and then this dwarf named Dagna - who think it has to do with a busted eluvian that's here - like Merrill's but bigger, I guess - and they hope that by fixing it they can get us all home?"

He was babbling, he realized abruptly, and very nearly on the edge of becoming hysterical. He clamped his mouth shut quickly and shook his head. The hand in Fenris's hair had been combing, basically petting, as he spoke, and now he moved his hand to the back of Fenris's head and clutched tightly.

Fenris narrowed his eyes as he tried to sort through all that.

"Ship?" he finally settled on. That was the easiest point.

The question made Anders feel rather panicky again, a queasy sensation settling in his gut. He studied Fenris closely, pulling his hand away reluctantly.

"Yeah, you know - Kirkwall burning? Hawke not killing me? Isabela sailing us all away before Sebastian can do me in instead?" He bit his lip, and his voice went low and pleading. "Please tell me that rings a bell."

"...no."

Fenris studied Anders with narrowed eyes, head tilted. The wary confusion was clear on his face. "Kirkwall is fine. Hawke has no reason to kill you. Sebastian has even less. Explain."

He crossed his arms over his chest, mood going pricklier by the second.

Anders brought his fist to his forehead.

"Fuuuck."

He gave Fenris a pleading expression. "Don't ask me to tell you what I did, love. Don't - don't do that. If Neria is right that could mess up all kinds of things in the timeline, you knowing ahead of it, and you can't - you can't stop me, and you'll try if you know, but I can't let you do that."

His face crumpled and he took a step backwards, shaking his head. "And you'll hate me, again, and I won't be able to bear it."

Again with the endearment. He didn't bristle this time, though his eyes narrowed as Anders kept talking. More than that, his stomach was beginning to roil.

I can't let you do that.

"You will not," Fenris began hotly, instinctively responding to that above everything else. He could rarely stand being controlled in any way. But he swallowed the words, gaze flicking down, then away. "So you will keep me in the dark," he finished stiffly.

Anders let out a choked noise, gripping a handful of his own hair like he might tear it out.

"Don't - it's not - that's not what I-"

He swallowed a noise of frustration, and tried again, his voice gentler this time. "Not like that. Never like that. You...you really don't want to know. Please."

Edited Date: 2015-09-05 08:25 am (UTC)

"...you did something so horrible that you thought Hawke would kill you. Hawke. Sebastian, sworn to the Maker, wants you dead. And I would hate you. Kirkwall is in flames. But why would Sebastian be so furious if you tore down the Gallows?"

Fenris looked up again, frowning. "Justice would not allow demons."

Anders shook his head wildly and made an aborted gesture with his hands. "No, no demons, I swear."

He made a face. "Please don't suggest we're capable of that. You know how he feels about demons. And I'm not - this is so close to the Fade, I can't keep him quiet as much as usual."

"I do not like being kept in the dark," Fenris said--though he dropped mention of demons. He trusted Anders and Justice not to do that. He'd known that to be true even as he'd said the words. "You come from my future?"

It all seemed so improbable, but where magic was involved, there was no telling what horrors could follow.

Anders bit his lip, and nodded, trying to ignore the inexplicable guilt he suddenly felt at keeping this from Fenris. An urge to blurt it all out abruptly and face the inevitable heart-ripping seized him. Maybe Fenris wouldn't - he hadn't that day, had he? Fenris had stood by him.

"That...would seem likely. What year did you come from? Have we..." his voice died, and he gestured vaguely between Fenris and himself.

"...yes," Fenris said. Then, frowning, "No." He wasn't sure exactly what Anders meant, and it seemed better to hedge there.

But when he gave the date, the reality of his answer was clear enough.

"Ah," Anders said, and he was impressed with the steadiness of the word when really he felt a strange rushing sensation in his ears and a clutch of despair around his heart, because this was his Fenris, yes, but so many months of pain and desire and confusion behind where they were now. All hope of just sinking into Fenris's strong arms and hiding away from the idiocy of this place, gone, in the simple naming of a date.

He staggered backwards. "I need to - sit down, probably," he mumbled, reaching blindly for the wall behind him with one hand and sliding down it until he was sitting. He pulled his knees up to his chest.

"I'm from over three years after that," he said, staring up at Fenris with wide, bloodshot amber eyes.

Fenris crouched in front of him, reaching to rest his hands on Anders' knees after only a brief hesitation. Even as upset--hurt, even, and angry--as he was by Anders' refusal to tell him more, he was not mistrustful. This confusing, magnetic man who he had hated once upon a time would not act to hurt him, no matter what else he might do. Fenris could trust that.

So his hands rested on Anders' knees, thumbs lightly brushing back and forth.

"I see," he said.