Black Black Heart [5/?]
anonymous
October 18 2011, 18:49:47 UTC
- - - - -
The world hurt.
No... that was wrong. The world probably felt just fine, but Tannusen Surana? Hurt. A lot. Less than half-conscious, the arms that scooped him up were those of a templar. The explosion was the roar of the archdemon, echoing in his memory. His head lolled back until it strained his throat, and the acrid smoke filling his lungs became the red fog of Uldred's control... and that Tevinter slaver in Denerim... and the blood mage who had captured him just hours ago...
He thought he might scream, but all that came out was the giggling of Ruck in the deep roads, and when the man -- templar? -- carrying him spoke to him, all he heard was the whispers of the Architect.
Tannusen knew his eyes were open, but all they could see was darkness. He couldn't tell if he replied to the whispers or not -- "First day, they come and catch everyone..." -- before his half-consciousness gave way entirely, and time once again lost all meaning. Touching the Fade, the demons that pursued him closed in, reaching with hungry hands...
- - - - -
"--Nn!" Consciousness rushed back in with a full-body jerk, as though he'd dreamed of falling off the Circle Tower again. Light rushed his senses with blazing fire when he opened his eyes, and so he feebly raised a hand to cover them, unable to hide a pained grimace.
"Amora?" That was Zevran. Zevran. Tannusen shuddered, feeling that familiar, reassuring touch to his wrist. "Are you yourself again?"
"Si, amora," ten years had made a few small phrases in the assassin's native tongue feel natural to the Fereldan. "Are we...?" Tannu finally lowered his hand, squinting at their surroundings. It was a small, cramped room -- but it was one he knew well. One of the Grey Warden's many hidden 'safe' places inside the tangle of Kirkwall. Zevran was crouched on the floor beside him, and he was laying on a cot.
Over Zevran's shoulder, he glimpsed the white-haired elf with the bizarre tattoos, leaning back against a wall with his arms folded. Watching.
"Before anything else, my dear," Zevran drew his attention back to himself, and the faint lines of worry between his eyes. Or perhaps that was a lie; they weren't very faint, just now. "What happened? I went back to the Circle, and you were gone. I barely managed to track you."
"I... didn't mean to be gone for long," Tannusen admitted quietly, "I'm sorry. I... you remember, when we heard that... one of the Wardens from Amaranthine had cut and run?"
Zevran nodded in response, not interrupting.
"I caught wind while you were gone... that he was here, in Kirkwall. So I went to find him. I was on my way back to the Gallows when that damn blood mage--" talking was difficult, and it was suddenly impossible for a few moments as he choked and struggled to breathe, the sound wet and horrible.
"Can you not heal yourself, yet?" Zevran asked once the horrible wracking coughs passed. "Perhaps we should go to the Dalish--"
"Who was that mage?" Tannusen interrupted, his voice reduced all over again to ragged strips of its usual silky purr. His gaze was aimed at the other elf, the silent stranger standing behind Zevran. "You were his... prisoner, too. Who is he?"
"His name is Danarius," the stranger's voice, by contrast, was deep and smooth, "he is a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium. And a powerful one, at that. I," the man's lips thinned into a hard line, "am his property, or so he would have you believe."
"A Magister," Tannu gave a hard half-laugh at that, wincing at the pain the sound caused in his throat, "that... just figures. They hit hard. Even... when they don't whip out the blood magic right away..."
"You have fought many Magisters, then, mage?" the stranger sounded less than impressed. "Duels, perhaps?"
"I have fought a lot of things," Tannusen struggled to sit up, using Zevran's assistance. His head was killing him, almost as bad as the rest of him. He definitely had a concussion. When had that happened? "I'm sorry, amora," he murmured to the Antivan as he leaned against his shoulder, "I don't know yet if I... can heal myself shortly or if we need to find help. I think I am... stable, however..."
Black Black Heart [6/?]
anonymous
October 19 2011, 10:24:52 UTC
Tannu allowed his fingers to clench tightly as a wave of dizziness overtook him. He was severely messed up, no matter how many healing potions the assassin had coaxed down his throat while he'd been unconscious. And he had: Tannusen could taste the bitter elfroot in the back of his throat. It was probably the only reason he wasn't coughing blood, anymore.
The white-haired elf turned away, clearly intending to leave. "Ser stranger," Tannu called after him, managing to put a little force into his temporarily-ruined voice, "your would-be owner isn't... going to give up, you know. On... chaining up either of us..."
"What possible use would he have for you," the stranger asked archly, not turning back around but at least pausing his steps, "beyond simply having yet another mage as a puppet?"
"He had... my phylactery," Tannusen slumped against Zevran even harder, the bit of force he'd summoned into his voice fading quickly. "He clearly knows who... I am. What I'm capable of. He took no risks. Countered my... magic immediately, somehow, as soon as he saw me. I..." the Warden laughed, very faintly, and with pain, "sort of... lit myself on fire when I meant to... do it to his men. They... didn't take kindly to my intent. He... let them beat me pretty good... once he'd done his blood magic thing on me..."
Talking was getting more and more painful, so he looked up at Zevran and managed a faint, pained smile, "Why is it always... blood mages?"
Zevran shook his head. "You do seem to draw them out from the woodwork, so to speak."
"Someone... smuggled my phylactery out of Ferelden," Tannu murmured, "and... gave it or sold it to a Tevinter Magister. That's... no coincidence."
The stranger had turned back around at some point while Tannusen wasn't looking, and stared at them as they spoke. "Why would Danarius go to such trouble? What do you mean, who you are and what you are capable of?"
"…" Tannu opened his mouth to replied and ended up coughing weakly instead.
"This man who you carried out of a burning ship," Zevran told him, helping the mage to lie back, "is Warden-Commander Tannusen Surana, the Hero of Ferelden. He is usually much more impressive to look at, I assure you."
"I thought... you liked the bloodied look," Tannusen croaked hoarsely.
"Silence, my Warden," Zevran tsked at him, smoothing his hair out of his face with one warm-skinned hand. "Let those of us who do not periodically light ourselves on fire speak, yes?"
"I... see," the stranger replied finally, some hesitation of his own finally entering his voice. Tannu's eyes didn't want to focus quite right, so he couldn't really see his expression. "A powerful tool for Danarius, indeed, if true."
"And one that would undoubtedly be sent after you, I should think," Zevran noted, standing up, "this man has crowned Kings, led armies, quelled blights--! I would not wish to be the one he was set upon, that is for certain."
"Is that some form of threat, assassin?" the white-haired elf asked, the rich timbre of his voice tinged with rapidly-growing agitation. Though Tannusen couldn't see much right now, his love of a nice voice made such variations plain to him.
"Not as such, no," Zevran laughed easily, "only an observation. Your former Master will still want you back even if he captures the Warden, yes? Why would he not make use of such a marvelous resource? I, of course, would be dead by then. I see no other way it could happen."
Re: Black Black Heart [6/?]
anonymous
October 20 2011, 00:40:17 UTC
Oooo.. the plot thickens! That's a nice bit of intrigue there... who betrayed Tannu and is anyone else behind all this besides Danarius? I like how Tannu, even in his sickened state, totally was into Fenris's voice. Understandably so. You tell a good story, Tannu!Anon!
Can't wait to read more. And I'm looking forward to this series continuing as well with Fenris in tow, esp. when they all three (in another prompt, of course) start tying each other up and having sex. (Did I actually type that? Yes I did.) But seriously, the relationship dynamics are going to be really interesting as they develop. (And it would be totally OC for Fenris to just jump in bed with Tannu, of all people, let alone with kinky sexytimes.)
Re: Black Black Heart [6/?]
anonymous
October 20 2011, 02:35:25 UTC
That is one damn sexy voice, even if you're concussed when hearing it! Mrow. Thanks! XD
This is the kink meme, after all! :D
Though I'm not sure what OC means. OOC? IC? I intend to 'earn' it before/if I get them to bone each other, rest assured. Though I have a bit of a cheat up my sleeve where getting them to hump is concerned... mwahaha. XD
Re: Black Black Heart [6/?]
anonymous
October 20 2011, 13:59:43 UTC
*grins* That's what I figured, but sometimes new terms pop up (especially on this meme) that I don't know about from time spent in other fandoms. So I thought I'd check. :3
I think it would be OOC for Fenris to jump into bed with anyone for a while after what just happened to him, the poor guy.
Re: Black Black Heart [6/?]
anonymous
October 25 2011, 09:59:08 UTC
i am loving the banter between tannu and fenris, and i get the feeling zevran is watching very close our magi-detesting friend. and not just because of the threat he poses in a dangerous way.
Black Black Heart [7/?]
anonymous
October 28 2011, 19:15:41 UTC
"Or thralled yourself," Tannusen noted weakly, unable to hold back a faint shudder at the idea. He would burn himself alive before he allowed Zevran's heart and mind to be scooped out of him like the insides of a melon.
The stranger's gaze could be felt shifting between the two of them, almost tangible in its weight. Tannu's eyes slipped closed, but he could still feel the soft thrum of the stranger across the small room. It was a tantalizing mystery, but one he knew better -- at least, now -- than to pursue at the moment. He was too weakened, for one thing.
"And so you are suggesting... what, exactly?" the stranger asked, finally. He sounded like he was pacing, even though he wasn't. It was the sheer tension in his voice.
"Well, you see, we could use a third person -- a nice, durable warrior in particular," Zevran chuckled, "as this entire situation has proved, even I cannot guard my Warden's back at all times--"
"You want me," the tone was still tense, but now it was clipped as well, "to play bodyguard to your mage."
"And why not?" If Zevran noticed -- and he undoubtedly did -- he didn't let it show in his own voice at all, "I have seen you fight, yes? With the Champion? You are competent enough, and strong... surely traveling with us can only be of benefit to all involved. We have resources you will never be able to match... or am I wrong?"
"The Champion," the word was spat out, "sold me out to my former Master, for whom I was bodyguard. I am through with trusting his kind."
"Then don't trust me," Tannusen interjected mildly, eyes closed, listening to the angry thrum that didn't come from the stranger's voice. Speaking was still difficult, but not nearly so bad after being silent for a while, "Help all three of us get out of this Maker-damned country in as few pieces as possible, and go on your way whenever you wish..." he had to pause for a moment to let the pain ease, "...stick... with us to Ferelden, and maybe we can set you up with the King, if you like."
"Ah, that is a thought," Zevran chimed in, sparing Tannusen from having to explain more, "Our dear Alistair could always use another competent guard, with the Orlesians eyeballing his neck the way they are. And no few Fereldan nobles, as well."
"It... I will give it some consideration," the stranger said slowly. He didn't sound like he really wanted to consider it, but perhaps part of him knew that the sting of fresh betrayal clouded his judgment. And even a Tevinter Magister would have difficulty touching a royal bodyguard in a country that was already intolerant of actual slavery. Howe and Loghain's nonsense during the blight had been the exception, not the rule.
And to think, Ferelden was considered the country of barbarians.
"Stay the night then," Zevran offered, "I will unfold the other cot for you, yes? This room is about as safe as we will get inside of the city," Tannusen listened as Zevran stepped away from him to do as he said, "and if you are gone in the morning, we will know you decided to venture off on your own."
That was true. If he vanished because the Magister had somehow found the Grey Warden safe-room in the span of one night, it wasn't like Tannusen himself would be left alone. Especially weakened as he was.
"Can you still not heal yourself, amora?" That was Zevran again, of course, stepping close and kneeling down with the creak of leather, his back undoubtedly to the stranger while said stranger decided whether to stay the night or take his chances early and bolt like a skittish stray dog.
"I can... try," Tannusen nodded faintly, and reached carefully for his energy reserves. The pool of energy inside that fueled his spells was about half-refilled, and he mentally dipped his fingertips into the surface--
The cool, calm pool burst into flames, consuming his mind in white-hot pain. Tannusen's reality... flickered, the Fade overlapping his senses, and he could hear himself -- in one world or the other -- crying out in agony.
The world hurt.
No... that was wrong. The world probably felt just fine, but Tannusen Surana? Hurt. A lot. Less than half-conscious, the arms that scooped him up were those of a templar. The explosion was the roar of the archdemon, echoing in his memory. His head lolled back until it strained his throat, and the acrid smoke filling his lungs became the red fog of Uldred's control... and that Tevinter slaver in Denerim... and the blood mage who had captured him just hours ago...
He thought he might scream, but all that came out was the giggling of Ruck in the deep roads, and when the man -- templar? -- carrying him spoke to him, all he heard was the whispers of the Architect.
Tannusen knew his eyes were open, but all they could see was darkness. He couldn't tell if he replied to the whispers or not -- "First day, they come and catch everyone..." -- before his half-consciousness gave way entirely, and time once again lost all meaning. Touching the Fade, the demons that pursued him closed in, reaching with hungry hands...
- - - - -
"--Nn!" Consciousness rushed back in with a full-body jerk, as though he'd dreamed of falling off the Circle Tower again. Light rushed his senses with blazing fire when he opened his eyes, and so he feebly raised a hand to cover them, unable to hide a pained grimace.
"Amora?" That was Zevran. Zevran. Tannusen shuddered, feeling that familiar, reassuring touch to his wrist. "Are you yourself again?"
"Si, amora," ten years had made a few small phrases in the assassin's native tongue feel natural to the Fereldan. "Are we...?" Tannu finally lowered his hand, squinting at their surroundings. It was a small, cramped room -- but it was one he knew well. One of the Grey Warden's many hidden 'safe' places inside the tangle of Kirkwall. Zevran was crouched on the floor beside him, and he was laying on a cot.
Over Zevran's shoulder, he glimpsed the white-haired elf with the bizarre tattoos, leaning back against a wall with his arms folded. Watching.
"Before anything else, my dear," Zevran drew his attention back to himself, and the faint lines of worry between his eyes. Or perhaps that was a lie; they weren't very faint, just now. "What happened? I went back to the Circle, and you were gone. I barely managed to track you."
"I... didn't mean to be gone for long," Tannusen admitted quietly, "I'm sorry. I... you remember, when we heard that... one of the Wardens from Amaranthine had cut and run?"
Zevran nodded in response, not interrupting.
"I caught wind while you were gone... that he was here, in Kirkwall. So I went to find him. I was on my way back to the Gallows when that damn blood mage--" talking was difficult, and it was suddenly impossible for a few moments as he choked and struggled to breathe, the sound wet and horrible.
"Can you not heal yourself, yet?" Zevran asked once the horrible wracking coughs passed. "Perhaps we should go to the Dalish--"
"Who was that mage?" Tannusen interrupted, his voice reduced all over again to ragged strips of its usual silky purr. His gaze was aimed at the other elf, the silent stranger standing behind Zevran. "You were his... prisoner, too. Who is he?"
"His name is Danarius," the stranger's voice, by contrast, was deep and smooth, "he is a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium. And a powerful one, at that. I," the man's lips thinned into a hard line, "am his property, or so he would have you believe."
"A Magister," Tannu gave a hard half-laugh at that, wincing at the pain the sound caused in his throat, "that... just figures. They hit hard. Even... when they don't whip out the blood magic right away..."
"You have fought many Magisters, then, mage?" the stranger sounded less than impressed. "Duels, perhaps?"
"I have fought a lot of things," Tannusen struggled to sit up, using Zevran's assistance. His head was killing him, almost as bad as the rest of him. He definitely had a concussion. When had that happened? "I'm sorry, amora," he murmured to the Antivan as he leaned against his shoulder, "I don't know yet if I... can heal myself shortly or if we need to find help. I think I am... stable, however..."
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Is it bad that I was grinning over "He definitely had a concussion. When had that happened?"
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Fenris is already having such an--
*puts shades on*
--impact.
YEEEAAAAAH!
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The white-haired elf turned away, clearly intending to leave. "Ser stranger," Tannu called after him, managing to put a little force into his temporarily-ruined voice, "your would-be owner isn't... going to give up, you know. On... chaining up either of us..."
"What possible use would he have for you," the stranger asked archly, not turning back around but at least pausing his steps, "beyond simply having yet another mage as a puppet?"
"He had... my phylactery," Tannusen slumped against Zevran even harder, the bit of force he'd summoned into his voice fading quickly. "He clearly knows who... I am. What I'm capable of. He took no risks. Countered my... magic immediately, somehow, as soon as he saw me. I..." the Warden laughed, very faintly, and with pain, "sort of... lit myself on fire when I meant to... do it to his men. They... didn't take kindly to my intent. He... let them beat me pretty good... once he'd done his blood magic thing on me..."
Talking was getting more and more painful, so he looked up at Zevran and managed a faint, pained smile, "Why is it always... blood mages?"
Zevran shook his head. "You do seem to draw them out from the woodwork, so to speak."
"Someone... smuggled my phylactery out of Ferelden," Tannu murmured, "and... gave it or sold it to a Tevinter Magister. That's... no coincidence."
The stranger had turned back around at some point while Tannusen wasn't looking, and stared at them as they spoke. "Why would Danarius go to such trouble? What do you mean, who you are and what you are capable of?"
"…" Tannu opened his mouth to replied and ended up coughing weakly instead.
"This man who you carried out of a burning ship," Zevran told him, helping the mage to lie back, "is Warden-Commander Tannusen Surana, the Hero of Ferelden. He is usually much more impressive to look at, I assure you."
"I thought... you liked the bloodied look," Tannusen croaked hoarsely.
"Silence, my Warden," Zevran tsked at him, smoothing his hair out of his face with one warm-skinned hand. "Let those of us who do not periodically light ourselves on fire speak, yes?"
"I... see," the stranger replied finally, some hesitation of his own finally entering his voice. Tannu's eyes didn't want to focus quite right, so he couldn't really see his expression. "A powerful tool for Danarius, indeed, if true."
"And one that would undoubtedly be sent after you, I should think," Zevran noted, standing up, "this man has crowned Kings, led armies, quelled blights--! I would not wish to be the one he was set upon, that is for certain."
"Is that some form of threat, assassin?" the white-haired elf asked, the rich timbre of his voice tinged with rapidly-growing agitation. Though Tannusen couldn't see much right now, his love of a nice voice made such variations plain to him.
"Not as such, no," Zevran laughed easily, "only an observation. Your former Master will still want you back even if he captures the Warden, yes? Why would he not make use of such a marvelous resource? I, of course, would be dead by then. I see no other way it could happen."
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And his phylactery? Oooo, plots upon plots! Delicious!
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Can't wait to read more. And I'm looking forward to this series continuing as well with Fenris in tow, esp. when they all three (in another prompt, of course) start tying each other up and having sex. (Did I actually type that? Yes I did.) But seriously, the relationship dynamics are going to be really interesting as they develop. (And it would be totally OC for Fenris to just jump in bed with Tannu, of all people, let alone with kinky sexytimes.)
Captcha: conclude abuisin... Really? Nah.
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This is the kink meme, after all! :D
Though I'm not sure what OC means. OOC? IC? I intend to 'earn' it before/if I get them to bone each other, rest assured. Though I have a bit of a cheat up my sleeve where getting them to hump is concerned... mwahaha. XD
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Captcha: Love tortur ... whoa! It knows.
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I think it would be OOC for Fenris to jump into bed with anyone for a while after what just happened to him, the poor guy.
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The stranger's gaze could be felt shifting between the two of them, almost tangible in its weight. Tannu's eyes slipped closed, but he could still feel the soft thrum of the stranger across the small room. It was a tantalizing mystery, but one he knew better -- at least, now -- than to pursue at the moment. He was too weakened, for one thing.
"And so you are suggesting... what, exactly?" the stranger asked, finally. He sounded like he was pacing, even though he wasn't. It was the sheer tension in his voice.
"Well, you see, we could use a third person -- a nice, durable warrior in particular," Zevran chuckled, "as this entire situation has proved, even I cannot guard my Warden's back at all times--"
"You want me," the tone was still tense, but now it was clipped as well, "to play bodyguard to your mage."
"And why not?" If Zevran noticed -- and he undoubtedly did -- he didn't let it show in his own voice at all, "I have seen you fight, yes? With the Champion? You are competent enough, and strong... surely traveling with us can only be of benefit to all involved. We have resources you will never be able to match... or am I wrong?"
"The Champion," the word was spat out, "sold me out to my former Master, for whom I was bodyguard. I am through with trusting his kind."
"Then don't trust me," Tannusen interjected mildly, eyes closed, listening to the angry thrum that didn't come from the stranger's voice. Speaking was still difficult, but not nearly so bad after being silent for a while, "Help all three of us get out of this Maker-damned country in as few pieces as possible, and go on your way whenever you wish..." he had to pause for a moment to let the pain ease, "...stick... with us to Ferelden, and maybe we can set you up with the King, if you like."
"Ah, that is a thought," Zevran chimed in, sparing Tannusen from having to explain more, "Our dear Alistair could always use another competent guard, with the Orlesians eyeballing his neck the way they are. And no few Fereldan nobles, as well."
"It... I will give it some consideration," the stranger said slowly. He didn't sound like he really wanted to consider it, but perhaps part of him knew that the sting of fresh betrayal clouded his judgment. And even a Tevinter Magister would have difficulty touching a royal bodyguard in a country that was already intolerant of actual slavery. Howe and Loghain's nonsense during the blight had been the exception, not the rule.
And to think, Ferelden was considered the country of barbarians.
"Stay the night then," Zevran offered, "I will unfold the other cot for you, yes? This room is about as safe as we will get inside of the city," Tannusen listened as Zevran stepped away from him to do as he said, "and if you are gone in the morning, we will know you decided to venture off on your own."
That was true. If he vanished because the Magister had somehow found the Grey Warden safe-room in the span of one night, it wasn't like Tannusen himself would be left alone. Especially weakened as he was.
"Can you still not heal yourself, amora?" That was Zevran again, of course, stepping close and kneeling down with the creak of leather, his back undoubtedly to the stranger while said stranger decided whether to stay the night or take his chances early and bolt like a skittish stray dog.
"I can... try," Tannusen nodded faintly, and reached carefully for his energy reserves. The pool of energy inside that fueled his spells was about half-refilled, and he mentally dipped his fingertips into the surface--
The cool, calm pool burst into flames, consuming his mind in white-hot pain. Tannusen's reality... flickered, the Fade overlapping his senses, and he could hear himself -- in one world or the other -- crying out in agony.
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