2 ☣ settling in
[1: the training center; last night]
[In the middle of the training center there is a ghost. Only not really. Ghosts generally don't fight T-rexaurs or wield really huge swords.
After almost two weeks, on and off, of watching the adventures of others in the training center and occasionally taking on a few Grats, Fenris has decided to see just what its more monstrous inhabitants can really do. Curiosity may be his stated intent, but of course his motivation is as always as much to release some of his fury at the world he's been thrown into at a controlled burn as anything else. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly counting on this...rather remarkable dragon-like thing. He's not completely outmatched, but it's a giant dinosaur, and all he has is his natural strength and his armor. He could probably use a little help.
He's trying not to look like he needs it, though. He fights ruthlessly and intensely, with perfectly controlled, powerful swings of the sword and low, flat-voiced oaths muttered in some foreign tongue. And then there's the matter of his ghostliness. He seems insubstantial despite the obvious power of his blows, shimmering nearly white and moving fleetly, ethereally through the undergrowth.]
[1: the library; this morning]
[The work given to him over his time here has been easy enough, and the compensation fair. Collect and sort trays and utensils in the cafeteria. Wash Garden's official vehicles (all right, so he's not entirely convinced those filthy metal things aren't some kind of armored monsters, but aside from that). Spend a night making sure monsters don't escape the training center. That sort of thing. Today's job: "More librarians than usual have the day off. Pick up the slack for them and put the books back into place."
Fenris was supposed to get this done early in the morning, before the library officially opened. It's now 0915 and he's still standing in front of one shelf, holding a stack of books and debating internally whether he could get away with sorting them by color and calling it a day. It's one thing to tell Hawke that he can't read, you see; it's quite another to admit it to the people in charge of Garden.
On the plus side, he's feeling too awkward to be properly filled with rage right now.]
[In the middle of the training center there is a ghost. Only not really. Ghosts generally don't fight T-rexaurs or wield really huge swords.
After almost two weeks, on and off, of watching the adventures of others in the training center and occasionally taking on a few Grats, Fenris has decided to see just what its more monstrous inhabitants can really do. Curiosity may be his stated intent, but of course his motivation is as always as much to release some of his fury at the world he's been thrown into at a controlled burn as anything else. Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly counting on this...rather remarkable dragon-like thing. He's not completely outmatched, but it's a giant dinosaur, and all he has is his natural strength and his armor. He could probably use a little help.
He's trying not to look like he needs it, though. He fights ruthlessly and intensely, with perfectly controlled, powerful swings of the sword and low, flat-voiced oaths muttered in some foreign tongue. And then there's the matter of his ghostliness. He seems insubstantial despite the obvious power of his blows, shimmering nearly white and moving fleetly, ethereally through the undergrowth.]
[1: the library; this morning]
[The work given to him over his time here has been easy enough, and the compensation fair. Collect and sort trays and utensils in the cafeteria. Wash Garden's official vehicles (all right, so he's not entirely convinced those filthy metal things aren't some kind of armored monsters, but aside from that). Spend a night making sure monsters don't escape the training center. That sort of thing. Today's job: "More librarians than usual have the day off. Pick up the slack for them and put the books back into place."
Fenris was supposed to get this done early in the morning, before the library officially opened. It's now 0915 and he's still standing in front of one shelf, holding a stack of books and debating internally whether he could get away with sorting them by color and calling it a day. It's one thing to tell Hawke that he can't read, you see; it's quite another to admit it to the people in charge of Garden.
On the plus side, he's feeling too awkward to be properly filled with rage right now.]