[ Fenris may not see it, but Autumn certainly does. All it does is make her rear on her hind legs briefly in front of wade, tail wagging, and doing a quick around the area. Fenris glances over and wonders why she's suddenly so energetic, but doesn't question it. ]
I hardly consider anything I've done "decorating", but if you insist.
[ Fenris leads Wade to his room, since it's close by it doesn't take long at all, opening the door and stepping to the side after flicking on a light. It's not very personalized yet — at least not purposefully. There are a lot of books scattered around, piled in some corners. There's an open supply closet with a dog bed nestled inside that Fenris found during their mall raiding. Despite the lights, he still has unlit candles placed around the room just in case. The desk the office came with is pushed into a corner and one of the many places now holding books. He has a mattress at the far side of the room with lots of blankets where he clearly sleeps. Because of the glass wall and large window he has curtains drawn so no one can look in while roaming the halls or skulking about outside. ]
[Wade, for his part, takes Autumn's sudden jovial reaction as a sign that he's not paying enough attention to her, and so briefly bends down to capture her face roughly and affectionately in both hands before standing up and following Fenris to his room. He steps inside, taking a good look around at the sparse furniture, the almost-empty closet, the various clutter here and there that could belong to anyone. Wade crosses his arms over his chest; rocks back and forth on his heels.]
It's, uh... it's nice. A good start. Very Spartan.
[It reminds him of the dorm rooms from his army days, completely rigid and lacking in personality.]
You got an idea of how you wanna decorate it? Maybe paint the walls or something?
[Okay, so he wasn't expecting Fenris to be all about paint swatches and drapes, but even the most design-illiterate person inevitably engaged in some personalization.]
To make it more Fenris-y, obviously! You never decorated your place back home? Home home, I mean-- not New Amsterdam.
[Come to think of it, he can't recall ever setting foot in Fenris's place in New Amsterdam either-- aside from the safehouse, which could barely be called a home anyway. What had his dwelling in his home world been like? For a moment, a vision comes to mind of Fenris glowering out from the window of the Keebler elf treehouse, and Wade has to bite down on his lips to keep from laughing.]
[If Fenris had meant for that to be shocking, then he didn't know Wade Winston Wilson. Wade's nose wrinkles with distaste, but it's lacking the abject horror that would've undoubtedly been present on a normal, non-murdery sort of person. It looks more like he's reacting as if Fenris had told him he'd had his house littered with full garbage bags instead of corpses.]
Aw man, you go the Vlad the Impaler route? Rookie error. I mean, initially it does a good job in keepin' out the odd door-to-door salesman or Jehovah's Witness, but after a while you gotta get used to the smell.
Not just the smell of decay, either. You know that like... 85% of people shit themselves when they die? Not gonna be seein' that scent bein' patented by Bed Bath and Beyond, lemme tell you.
[ Fenris, for his part, is too used to the smell of rot and death for a few dead bodies littered about the front of a mansion to put him off. His reaction remains unchanged, not even a twitch of his nose.
Even though Wade is going on with these...things he doesn't understand again. After all this time though, Fenris realized that half the stuff Wade says isn't important anyway, so he simply picks apart the bits that are actually relevant.]
I'm well aware of the fact. It was a mansion...there were plenty of rooms not tainted by the stench of death and decay.
[Wade's eyebrows rise at that, and he huffs out a short, surprised bark of laughter.]
Damn, dude. You had a mansion? A mansion big enough to ignore a bunch of bodies? What, did you kill the dude who used to live there and take over?
[If he had a nickel for every time that happened to him... well, he'd have a nickel, but it's still pretty out of the ordinary to have that sort of thing happen at all.]
[ If Fenris didn't know Wade he would be suspicious of the accuracy of his question, but. Given the turn this conversation took, and from what he knows of the man, it's a safe assumption that their lives may be filled with similar...shenanigans. So instead, Wade gets a half amused snort.
[He doesn't sound as if he's particularly bothered by it. In fact, there's a definite note of approval in his voice. In lieu of any sort of chair-- Fenris apparently didn't seem too quick to add furniture to his room-- Wade makes his way over to the mattress and takes a seat.
Being situated on the floor instead of any sort of frame or box spring, it's a little too low to the ground for Wade's not-impressive stature, but he figures stiff knees are an easy trade-off. He wants to follow this trail of breadcrumbs and see where it ends.]
Did he ever come back for it? The mansion, I mean. Seems like a pretty big and expensive thing to leave behind, especially if there was someone squatting in it.
[ Very, very, briefly — seeing Wade's too large form seat himself on the mattress, does Fenris consider that perhaps he should invest in a chair or something. He's used to sitting anywhere, himself.]
I waited for him for three years, and he never returned, no. It was never his mansion to begin with, anyway. I suspect he killed the merchant it belonged to. But even if it had been his...a mansion is a small expense to one of his stature.
[ That last part is said with noticeable disgust. ]
Besides, he knew better. It would have been a foolish way to get to me.
[This is more than just a simple B&E situation-- Wade can tell by the terseness of Fenris's voice; the sudden stiffness of his posture, as if remembering old battle wounds that still plagued him on occasion. There was a reason why Fenris had staked out this particular house to make his headquarters, and Wade has to fight the urge to pounce on this tasty morsel of Fenris's past.]
Sounds like there's a story there.
[It's an invitation for Fenris to continue without actually coming out and asking for it. Wade does his best to keep his voice carefully neutral; his expression curious without being expectant. If Fenris wants to keep this conversation to himself, Wade's not gonna be too hurt by it. After all, he's got memories of his own that he'd rather stay buried.]
[ For a moment, it seems as if Fenris is content to let the conversation die there. There's only the sound of Autumn yawing from her spot on her bed, rolling over onto her back, before Fenris actually speaks again. It's not something he hides, but it's not something he ever brought up with Wade. In fact, he hasn't brought it up with Kisame and Shinobu either. ]
The man was my former master, Danarius. And the men he sent after me were slavers he hired to catch me when I escaped. When I moved into that mansion, in Kirkwall, is when I decided to stop running. He showed his face eventually, just not there.
[Fenris reveals this information as dispassionately as someone recalling a particularly uninteresting childhood anecdote, and that might be the most disturbing part of all. Wade feels his gut clench inside him at the mention of the word "slavers", of the word "escaped"; the careful neutrality of his expression melting away to horror.]
Danarius? He was your--
[His throat pulses furtively as he swallows. One hand reaches up to scrub at his mouth.]
Jesus Christ. Before when you told me he was your master I thought it was just some... some Kung Fu shit, y'know? Like he was your teacher. Your mentor or whatever the fuck. You were a--
[He breaks off, not trusting himself not to say the wrong thing.]
[ Fenris had been staring down at his container of ice cream as he revealed this bit of his past, digging into it with his spoon, but Wade's reaction gave him pause. He looks up, brows furrowing as the other struggles to take it in. Slavery was so commonplace in Thedas, legal or not, that it's not a reaction he's used to. ]
When I was a child it certainly seemed that way. Before I knew better. It's in the past, at any rate. [ Something catches his attention, though. ] Wait a minute...when did I tell you he was my master?
[The question catches Wade off-guard, and he realizes to his embarrassment that he's been staring at Fenris's markings for some time now. Before, he'd thought they were just tattoos or war paint or even some weird sort of skin pigmentation, one that glowed with his moods. Wade knows the truth now, and he mentally curses himself for being so naive.
Of course it hurts.
It explains a lot, really-- his sensitivity to touch, his general sour mood, how he always seems to carry himself gingerly as if nursing bruises on his body. Like the itching burning feeling that Wade had long since gotten used to, the feeling of cancer constantly taking rapacious bites out of his skin, only to have it replenished. Wade glances up to meet Fenris's eyes now, his mouth quirking in an embarrassed smile.]
Might not've been you then. You remember when things were crazy and we had doubles of ourselves wandering around? I met another you. Someone who didn't know me. He was looking for Danarius. Seemed in a hurry to get back to him, actually.
[There are questions in Wade's eyes now, questions he's a little afraid to ask.]
[ He seems to almost expect this — somehow, he feels as if there wouldn't be very many versions of himself that escaped the clutches of Tevinter and its magisters. Perhaps that's bleak, but he feels as if his situation was one in a million. At least, as far as multidimensional versions of himself goes...or whatever.]
As I said, there was a time where I did not know better. Slaves don't think of freedom. Only of their master's desires. More often than not...they can't comprehend anything else. [ He shakes his head, words bitter as he drops his spoon into the container. ] Sometimes when we released them...we knew they would go back. To their masters. There was a time when I would do the same.
[ He sighs, glancing up at Wade. ]
It's a good thing Danarius wasn't around. He likely would have ordered your death, and that version of myself would have complied without hesitation. I was little more than a weapon to him.
[Wade flinches as Fenris meets his gaze, knowing full well that his expression is still locked into that naked look of horror. It was, admittedly, hard to hear Fenris speak about his former master and not think of the sadistic Dr. Killebrew. But for all the good doctor's twisted love of torture and subjugation, Wade was never a slave to him. He never had his mind beaten down and gaslit into following Killebrew's orders. He'd been turned into a weapon-- a dangerous, volatile and unpredictable one to be sure, but one who was very much still in possession of his own free will.
He finds himself unable to hold eye contact for long, looking down at the unopened container of ice cream still clenched in his hands.]
How long? [His voice is low; hoarse.] How long was he your... your master?
[ Fenris holds Wade's stare a moment, trying to comprehend the look of horror on Wade's face. He's unused to any mention of slavery inciting little more than awkward conversation from anyone who wasn't an elf. That, or a forced kind of pitty.
It's...strange, to say the least. ]
Hard to say, exactly. Since I was a child...I believe he was my mother's master first, and by extension mine. It wasn't until I got older when I began to directly serve him.
[Likewise, Wade sees Fenris's brow furrow in an expression he can't fully read. Confusion, maybe? Or scrutiny? Maybe he was expecting Wade to laugh the whole thing off, to attempt to ease the seriousness of the conversation with a crude joke. He can't exactly blame him for thinking that-- not with his track record.
Wade struggles to shape his expression into something more neutral.]
Se-- [His voice breaks, and he clears his throat with a chagrined shake of his head.] Sorry. Serve him in what way, exactly? I mean-- if you're okay with gettin' into that.
[He has a vague sense of dread of what that could entail. It's hard not to jump to that conclusion, considering the subject matter.]
[ Fenris can tell, he thinks, what Wade is wondering. He's been asked that question before — albeit with less dread and more weird curiosity. Congratulations, Wade, you're more subtle than the pirate with no pants. ]
However he desired. I was his.
[ It's probably the best he can do to answer the question without getting into all the unpleasant details. To spare Wade knowing the nitty-gritty of what he had endured — breaking down decades of grim details into just six words. ]
[He was half-expecting this reply, but it hurts him all the same, hurts him to the point that he winces as if Fenris had actually physically struck him. Wade jerks his head away, once again no longer able to meet the elf's eyes. Another awkward swallow, and this time both hands move upwards to briefly cover his face, fingers rubbing at his eyelids as if nursing a bad headache.]
...Jesus. [The word is a whisper, and he can't think of anything else to say. He doesn't think there's anything else that can be said.]
[ Again, Fenris is having trouble parsing Wade's shift in demeanor. He can't, for the life of him, understand why he looks so despondent. It's almost as if Wade is the one telling the story — as if he was the one who lived it. There was a time when Fenris would have a stronger reaction to these memories, but they are just part of him now. Like an arm or a leg. An extension of himself that he has learned to live with.
His brows crease in concern. ]
Wade...[ With the way the other can't even look at him, he wonders... ] Are you...alright?
[Of all the things Fenris could've said in that moment, it's this that completely blindsides Wade. He can't help it. With one hand still covering his eyes, he begins to laugh. It's not a small, cynical chuckle but an actual full-on belly laugh, one that rocks him back onto Fenris's bed until he nearly tips over, his body shaking with his paroxysms.
What delicious irony. Fenris had been through hell, had been through one of the worst scenarios Wade could imagine, and he's asking Wade if he's all right? It's almost more than he can bear.
After a few excruciating minutes, Wade's laughter finally tapers off into scattered chuckles before stopping completely. He sighs, righting himself and wiping his eyes before regarding Fenris with an apologetic smile.]
Sorry. Wasn't laughin' at you, honest. It's just... fuck.
[He shakes his head, that smile turning into something rueful and sardonic.]
All I can say is... I take back everything I may have said about you bein' cranky and broody. 'Cause you're doin' fucking fantastic, all things considered.
[ Years ago, Fenris would have probably reacted to the laughing with some form of volatility. He would have gotten defensive or rolled his eyes, depending on who it was that did the laughing. But now, from Wade — especially after the look he had just been giving him, his concern only grew.
When Wade finally stops and apologizes, he doesn't need to say much to convince Fenris.
He doesn't quite know how to react to what he's being told. Again. His ears slope back a bit, brows creasing further as his mouth opens and closes for lack of any real response.
No one has ever told him he was handling things well. And he never quite thought he was either. Maybe now, finally settling on just the right amount of anger and resentment to focus on while continuing on with his life. But even still, no one has ever expressed this about the way he handled his trauma. ]
I...[ He clears his throat. ] It has been quite some time since I've spoken about this at length. Not since...Hawke.
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I hardly consider anything I've done "decorating", but if you insist.
[ Fenris leads Wade to his room, since it's close by it doesn't take long at all, opening the door and stepping to the side after flicking on a light. It's not very personalized yet — at least not purposefully. There are a lot of books scattered around, piled in some corners. There's an open supply closet with a dog bed nestled inside that Fenris found during their mall raiding. Despite the lights, he still has unlit candles placed around the room just in case. The desk the office came with is pushed into a corner and one of the many places now holding books. He has a mattress at the far side of the room with lots of blankets where he clearly sleeps. Because of the glass wall and large window he has curtains drawn so no one can look in while roaming the halls or skulking about outside. ]
It's sufficient.
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It's, uh... it's nice. A good start. Very Spartan.
[It reminds him of the dorm rooms from his army days, completely rigid and lacking in personality.]
You got an idea of how you wanna decorate it? Maybe paint the walls or something?
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Fenris quirks a brow at Wade's question. ]
Why would I do that? It seems pointless.
[ Spoken like a man who has never had a home. Or at least felt like it. ]
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To make it more Fenris-y, obviously! You never decorated your place back home? Home home, I mean-- not New Amsterdam.
[Come to think of it, he can't recall ever setting foot in Fenris's place in New Amsterdam either-- aside from the safehouse, which could barely be called a home anyway. What had his dwelling in his home world been like? For a moment, a vision comes to mind of Fenris glowering out from the window of the Keebler elf treehouse, and Wade has to bite down on his lips to keep from laughing.]
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[ He's not sure if that counts as decoration, but it's probably the closest he ever got. At least it was practical. ]
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Aw man, you go the Vlad the Impaler route? Rookie error. I mean, initially it does a good job in keepin' out the odd door-to-door salesman or Jehovah's Witness, but after a while you gotta get used to the smell.
Not just the smell of decay, either. You know that like... 85% of people shit themselves when they die? Not gonna be seein' that scent bein' patented by Bed Bath and Beyond, lemme tell you.
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Even though Wade is going on with these...things he doesn't understand again. After all this time though, Fenris realized that half the stuff Wade says isn't important anyway, so he simply picks apart the bits that are actually relevant.]
I'm well aware of the fact. It was a mansion...there were plenty of rooms not tainted by the stench of death and decay.
[ He takes another scoop full of ice cream. ]
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Damn, dude. You had a mansion? A mansion big enough to ignore a bunch of bodies? What, did you kill the dude who used to live there and take over?
[If he had a nickel for every time that happened to him... well, he'd have a nickel, but it's still pretty out of the ordinary to have that sort of thing happen at all.]
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He leans against the desk pushed to the wall.]
Something like that. I killed his men.
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[He doesn't sound as if he's particularly bothered by it. In fact, there's a definite note of approval in his voice. In lieu of any sort of chair-- Fenris apparently didn't seem too quick to add furniture to his room-- Wade makes his way over to the mattress and takes a seat.
Being situated on the floor instead of any sort of frame or box spring, it's a little too low to the ground for Wade's not-impressive stature, but he figures stiff knees are an easy trade-off. He wants to follow this trail of breadcrumbs and see where it ends.]
Did he ever come back for it? The mansion, I mean. Seems like a pretty big and expensive thing to leave behind, especially if there was someone squatting in it.
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I waited for him for three years, and he never returned, no. It was never his mansion to begin with, anyway. I suspect he killed the merchant it belonged to. But even if it had been his...a mansion is a small expense to one of his stature.
[ That last part is said with noticeable disgust. ]
Besides, he knew better. It would have been a foolish way to get to me.
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Sounds like there's a story there.
[It's an invitation for Fenris to continue without actually coming out and asking for it. Wade does his best to keep his voice carefully neutral; his expression curious without being expectant. If Fenris wants to keep this conversation to himself, Wade's not gonna be too hurt by it. After all, he's got memories of his own that he'd rather stay buried.]
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[ For a moment, it seems as if Fenris is content to let the conversation die there. There's only the sound of Autumn yawing from her spot on her bed, rolling over onto her back, before Fenris actually speaks again. It's not something he hides, but it's not something he ever brought up with Wade. In fact, he hasn't brought it up with Kisame and Shinobu either. ]
The man was my former master, Danarius. And the men he sent after me were slavers he hired to catch me when I escaped. When I moved into that mansion, in Kirkwall, is when I decided to stop running. He showed his face eventually, just not there.
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Danarius? He was your--
[His throat pulses furtively as he swallows. One hand reaches up to scrub at his mouth.]
Jesus Christ. Before when you told me he was your master I thought it was just some... some Kung Fu shit, y'know? Like he was your teacher. Your mentor or whatever the fuck. You were a--
[He breaks off, not trusting himself not to say the wrong thing.]
Jesus. I had no idea.
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When I was a child it certainly seemed that way. Before I knew better. It's in the past, at any rate. [ Something catches his attention, though. ] Wait a minute...when did I tell you he was my master?
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Of course it hurts.
It explains a lot, really-- his sensitivity to touch, his general sour mood, how he always seems to carry himself gingerly as if nursing bruises on his body. Like the itching burning feeling that Wade had long since gotten used to, the feeling of cancer constantly taking rapacious bites out of his skin, only to have it replenished. Wade glances up to meet Fenris's eyes now, his mouth quirking in an embarrassed smile.]
Might not've been you then. You remember when things were crazy and we had doubles of ourselves wandering around? I met another you. Someone who didn't know me. He was looking for Danarius. Seemed in a hurry to get back to him, actually.
[There are questions in Wade's eyes now, questions he's a little afraid to ask.]
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[ He seems to almost expect this — somehow, he feels as if there wouldn't be very many versions of himself that escaped the clutches of Tevinter and its magisters. Perhaps that's bleak, but he feels as if his situation was one in a million. At least, as far as multidimensional versions of himself goes...or whatever.]
As I said, there was a time where I did not know better. Slaves don't think of freedom. Only of their master's desires. More often than not...they can't comprehend anything else. [ He shakes his head, words bitter as he drops his spoon into the container. ] Sometimes when we released them...we knew they would go back. To their masters. There was a time when I would do the same.
[ He sighs, glancing up at Wade. ]
It's a good thing Danarius wasn't around. He likely would have ordered your death, and that version of myself would have complied without hesitation. I was little more than a weapon to him.
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He finds himself unable to hold eye contact for long, looking down at the unopened container of ice cream still clenched in his hands.]
How long? [His voice is low; hoarse.] How long was he your... your master?
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It's...strange, to say the least. ]
Hard to say, exactly. Since I was a child...I believe he was my mother's master first, and by extension mine. It wasn't until I got older when I began to directly serve him.
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Wade struggles to shape his expression into something more neutral.]
Se-- [His voice breaks, and he clears his throat with a chagrined shake of his head.] Sorry. Serve him in what way, exactly? I mean-- if you're okay with gettin' into that.
[He has a vague sense of dread of what that could entail. It's hard not to jump to that conclusion, considering the subject matter.]
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However he desired. I was his.
[ It's probably the best he can do to answer the question without getting into all the unpleasant details. To spare Wade knowing the nitty-gritty of what he had endured — breaking down decades of grim details into just six words. ]
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...Jesus. [The word is a whisper, and he can't think of anything else to say. He doesn't think there's anything else that can be said.]
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His brows crease in concern. ]
Wade...[ With the way the other can't even look at him, he wonders... ] Are you...alright?
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What delicious irony. Fenris had been through hell, had been through one of the worst scenarios Wade could imagine, and he's asking Wade if he's all right? It's almost more than he can bear.
After a few excruciating minutes, Wade's laughter finally tapers off into scattered chuckles before stopping completely. He sighs, righting himself and wiping his eyes before regarding Fenris with an apologetic smile.]
Sorry. Wasn't laughin' at you, honest. It's just... fuck.
[He shakes his head, that smile turning into something rueful and sardonic.]
All I can say is... I take back everything I may have said about you bein' cranky and broody. 'Cause you're doin' fucking fantastic, all things considered.
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When Wade finally stops and apologizes, he doesn't need to say much to convince Fenris.
He doesn't quite know how to react to what he's being told. Again. His ears slope back a bit, brows creasing further as his mouth opens and closes for lack of any real response.
No one has ever told him he was handling things well. And he never quite thought he was either. Maybe now, finally settling on just the right amount of anger and resentment to focus on while continuing on with his life. But even still, no one has ever expressed this about the way he handled his trauma. ]
I...[ He clears his throat. ] It has been quite some time since I've spoken about this at length. Not since...Hawke.
Thank you.
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