LEX LOCI (1/?)
anonymous
July 20 2011, 20:47:10 UTC
All right, OP! I hope this hasn't deviated too much from your original idea, which I loved then and love now, and that this fits what you were looking for. Still not entirely sure where it's headed, hoping to get into the nitty-gritty of alienage life in an interesting way... And of course the Fenris/Anders implications will hopefully be enjoyable as well! ♥ I will keep my fingers crossed, save for when I am typing in recaptchas, and um... Yes! I really hope you enjoy, OP (and non-OP)! And that it doesn't get too long, but sadly, I can make no promises there...
Re: LEX LOCI (8b/?)
anonymous
July 20 2011, 21:50:11 UTC
I have a new crush and it is this fill. Or Leto. Or both. I can't handle my feelings of excitement right now. I want to plunge deep into this new world you're creating, a!anon. But since it's quite hot in my corner of the world right now, I'll settle for an ice bath........to cool off until part 2.
Re: LEX LOCI (8b/?)
anonymous
July 21 2011, 03:42:03 UTC
*tracks this thread*
I love summer! So many good prompts getting filled right now. Can't wait to see sexy Leto and Anders revolutionaries. We all knew Fenris had it in him to be a good older brother. There was something about the way he talked about Varania (before he met her and had to rip her heart out, of course) that always made me ache. Excited to see them interact in the future!
LEX LOCI (9/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 22:04:09 UTC
Ahhh! A million apologies for being late with this. It will be extra-long to make up for the delay (part of why it was so delayed!) but still, I am very sorry! In any case, I just wanted to thank you guys so much for giving this fic a chance and for the lovely feedback! ♥ It definitely keeps me going, especially in this monster heat. It's been a bit difficult, definitely different from anything I've done, and let me tell you, the number of times I've written Fenris when I should have written Leto... It's crazy! But I just hope you enjoy it, and thanks so much, again; I was so glad to hear that it was enjoyable! I hope it stays that way. ♥
III.Leto had nothing to report to Athenril, save that the prime constituents of the clinic-its customers, if they could be termed as such, when no money ever exchanged hands-were many in number, and those who ran it very few
( ... )
LEX LOCI (10/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 22:05:09 UTC
But that was Athenril’s concern, not his. She troubled herself with such matters; it was her business to invade everyone else’s business. She might have been incapable of putting it aside even when there was no profit in it, but she was also capable of seeing reason, of setting aside personal grievances to focus on more important matters. Which extended, as far as she was concerned, only to safety in large amounts of coin.
‘All right, Fenris.’ Athenril leaned back against one of the sturdy, well-made crates that comprised her offices in Hightown. ‘Just don’t get sloppy, all right? You burn with a double-wick, eventually your lamp’s going to run out of oil. Happens to good people all the time. I don’t want to see it happen to you.’
Leto cracked his shoulder, swiveling the joint as he stretched his arm, fingers flexing beneath their sharp armor. His usefulness was directly tied to his continued health; he required no reminder of that particular truth. It was simply good business that Athenril would not be able to provide protection
( ... )
LEX LOCI (12/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 22:09:08 UTC
Leto knew why he was doing it. He didn’t think, however, that Varania would appreciate the answer.
‘Have you been to this clinic?’ he demanded. He found he sounded accusatory, and Varania, of course, responded in kind.
‘What if I have?’ she asked. ‘Nyssa sent supplies there once. I’m her errand girl; I don’t ask my employers questions, either. Can’t afford to be fired, now can I?’
Leto made a noise of frustration. Varania arched her brow. It was more exasperating than most conversations they had, not at all helped by the overpowering smell of the Tevinter dish-one that, Varania had never explained, or never had to explain, was their mother’s recipe, though Leto did not remember and also did not like the taste of it. Leto felt a sense of danger compounded by the knowledge that he didn’t understand the hidden feelings behind their words-not yet-and Varania knew it, but did not wish to make it better.
That was difficult, in all senses of the word.
‘What else do you know of this place?’ Leto asked
( ... )
LEX LOCI (13/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 22:10:50 UTC
Instead, Leto’s skin hummed with excess energy; he was anxious to get out, and anxious to finish his work, so they could put the matter of this clinic behind them once and for all. It was a point of contention between them now, for whatever reason; Leto wanted it done. Perhaps, when it was over, Varania would stop looking at him as though he was a templar, one of the aforementioned shadows darkening her doorstep.
‘Speak to Nyssa about how gratifying it is to live freely,’ Leto suggested, rising from his chair. It was a cruel cut, but sometimes one had to be cold in order to keep the things that mattered most safe from fresh hurt and fresh harm. ‘I’m sure she has a few thoughts on the subject.’
‘Leto,’ Varania said, but he was already moving out the door
( ... )
LEX LOCI (14/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 22:12:19 UTC
An Ostagar veteran with a dying wife, perhaps; a grandfather desperate to coax life back into the one bright light in all of Kirkwall, a granddaughter taken by chokedamp fever. It could have been anyone, save for the lone detail of armor spiked across narrow shoulders, something Anders picked up on after a great deal of squinting through the rotten wood, with his cheek pressed up against a moldy board, handkerchief acting as barrier between his nose and the stench-and armor meant it was no one nearly so innocent.
It might be the same guard from before, Anders supposed, pulling away from the door to pace the length of the clinic, back aching, from cot to lonely cot. Or it might be some new busy-body-Anders didn’t see that it mattered which. It was someone sniffing around, interested in their business; when Karl returned, with or without Malcolm at his side, there’d be questions asked, noses followed by blades inserted in their private business, and that, as Anders understood it, was a bad thing
( ... )
LEX LOCI (15/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 22:13:24 UTC
Anders rested his hand on the latch of the door. He questioned his motivations, the wisdom in his actions. It was a rare impulse, one he seldom indulged in, mostly because he always found himself lacking. At least, he liked to think doing the wrong thing could occasionally be better than doing nothing at all.
And it was better than waiting.
Anything was better than waiting.
Anders fingers twitched against the mottled wood. He made a face, then forced himself to smile, unhinging the latch and throwing the door open.
‘My,’ he said, leaning in the doorway, avoiding a stain of something just over the threshold-blood or vomit, it was difficult to tell, both in the dark and from a distance, though on closer inspection it did seem to be chunky-while he crossed one boot over the other, heel against ankle. ‘What a lovely evening, isn’t it? And me with absolutely nothing at all to do. Nothing to rob inside, either,’ he added, pitching his voice louder. ‘Unless you’re in the market for cots! We have plenty of those in this sanctum of
( ... )
LEX LOCI (16/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 22:15:20 UTC
There came a point in any conversation when it was always better to fall silent and let the other party draw his own conclusions about the topic out loud, after which he wasn’t able to revise them. Anders was fairly certain he’d passed that point some minutes back, but he paused anyway, finally, keeping close watch on the elf as he began his approach.
No-that couldn’t be right. His approach?
But he was drawing closer, not leaving, which hadn’t been part of Anders’s plan at all-the exact opposite of his plan, in fact-and wasn’t that just prime evidence that some people had all the luck, while others had none? For the first time, Anders was actively trying to repulse someone, and instead they responded by furthering their advances, rather than mounting a well-advised retreat
( ... )
LEX LOCI (17/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 22:16:32 UTC
‘Are you sure about that?’ Anders asked. ‘I think, if you are… I think I’d rather know. No-no, that’s a lie, I wouldn’t rather know. I’ve changed my mind, and I don’t want to see it coming. I don’t want to die either, not even the slightest bit, but if I have to, then I really don’t want to be prepared for it. Just standing here in the doorway to this awful clinic cringing, waiting for the blow-that’s no way to go, now is it
( ... )
LEX LOCI (18/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 22:17:56 UTC
In all honesty, he’d more than half expected the elf to leave. While he certainly seemed dangerous, and carried a large sword, he also didn’t appear inclined to do Anders or the clinic any immediate, physical harm. It was actually encouraging, as Anders really didn’t want to have to explain to Karl why he was returning home to a burnt out shell of his former hovel.
At least it might have made things cleaner. Fire did have a sanitizing effect.
When the elf did not leave-when instead he let out a sudden breath, like a blacksmith’s bellows being squeezed too quick and too tight-Anders startled, nearly tripping over the doorjamb. Large, green eyes were fixed on him once more, demanding answers where Anders was already certain he had none.
Anyway, wasn’t it the privilege of the surveillance target to ask the questions about why he was under surveillance? Anything else just seemed unfair
( ... )
LEX LOCI (18b/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 22:20:21 UTC
The elf froze; even at a distance, Anders could see him bristle, like a cat in the corner whose tail had been trodden on. He looked over his shoulder, eyebrows disappearing beneath the fall of his hair. For a moment, it seemed he wouldn’t answer.
Then his lip curled, eyes turning ground-ward.
Bare feet were always a mistake in Darktown. Anders could have warned him about that, though he didn’t seem the sort inclined to listen.
‘I am called Fenris,’ he said finally, something dark coloring his voice. Anders leaned against the doorframe, fingers stilling atop a plucked thread at his wear-worn elbow, while Fenris resumed his retreat through the muck and slumbering drunkards that made up most of Darktown’s streets. If they could even be called streets, anymore, since they were primarily made of sewage.
Anders watched him leave, studying the slender line of his back, the flicker of white where the lyrium tattoos appeared between the gaps in his armor. In Kirkwall, it was possible to see something new every day, despite the routine
( ... )
Re: LEX LOCI (18b/?)
anonymous
July 22 2011, 23:10:28 UTC
Ohh, I like this, I do. Followed your link over from another fill, and I'm so thrilled that I did. Looking forward to seeing what you cook up here, wonderous A!anon. ♥ You always seem to manage something superb.
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I.Athenril was in a sour mood ( ... )
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I love summer! So many good prompts getting filled right now. Can't wait to see sexy Leto and Anders revolutionaries. We all knew Fenris had it in him to be a good older brother. There was something about the way he talked about Varania (before he met her and had to rip her heart out, of course) that always made me ache. Excited to see them interact in the future!
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III.Leto had nothing to report to Athenril, save that the prime constituents of the clinic-its customers, if they could be termed as such, when no money ever exchanged hands-were many in number, and those who ran it very few ( ... )
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‘All right, Fenris.’ Athenril leaned back against one of the sturdy, well-made crates that comprised her offices in Hightown. ‘Just don’t get sloppy, all right? You burn with a double-wick, eventually your lamp’s going to run out of oil. Happens to good people all the time. I don’t want to see it happen to you.’
Leto cracked his shoulder, swiveling the joint as he stretched his arm, fingers flexing beneath their sharp armor. His usefulness was directly tied to his continued health; he required no reminder of that particular truth. It was simply good business that Athenril would not be able to provide protection ( ... )
Reply
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‘Have you been to this clinic?’ he demanded. He found he sounded accusatory, and Varania, of course, responded in kind.
‘What if I have?’ she asked. ‘Nyssa sent supplies there once. I’m her errand girl; I don’t ask my employers questions, either. Can’t afford to be fired, now can I?’
Leto made a noise of frustration. Varania arched her brow. It was more exasperating than most conversations they had, not at all helped by the overpowering smell of the Tevinter dish-one that, Varania had never explained, or never had to explain, was their mother’s recipe, though Leto did not remember and also did not like the taste of it. Leto felt a sense of danger compounded by the knowledge that he didn’t understand the hidden feelings behind their words-not yet-and Varania knew it, but did not wish to make it better.
That was difficult, in all senses of the word.
‘What else do you know of this place?’ Leto asked ( ... )
Reply
‘Speak to Nyssa about how gratifying it is to live freely,’ Leto suggested, rising from his chair. It was a cruel cut, but sometimes one had to be cold in order to keep the things that mattered most safe from fresh hurt and fresh harm. ‘I’m sure she has a few thoughts on the subject.’
‘Leto,’ Varania said, but he was already moving out the door ( ... )
Reply
It might be the same guard from before, Anders supposed, pulling away from the door to pace the length of the clinic, back aching, from cot to lonely cot. Or it might be some new busy-body-Anders didn’t see that it mattered which. It was someone sniffing around, interested in their business; when Karl returned, with or without Malcolm at his side, there’d be questions asked, noses followed by blades inserted in their private business, and that, as Anders understood it, was a bad thing ( ... )
Reply
And it was better than waiting.
Anything was better than waiting.
Anders fingers twitched against the mottled wood. He made a face, then forced himself to smile, unhinging the latch and throwing the door open.
‘My,’ he said, leaning in the doorway, avoiding a stain of something just over the threshold-blood or vomit, it was difficult to tell, both in the dark and from a distance, though on closer inspection it did seem to be chunky-while he crossed one boot over the other, heel against ankle. ‘What a lovely evening, isn’t it? And me with absolutely nothing at all to do. Nothing to rob inside, either,’ he added, pitching his voice louder. ‘Unless you’re in the market for cots! We have plenty of those in this sanctum of ( ... )
Reply
No-that couldn’t be right. His approach?
But he was drawing closer, not leaving, which hadn’t been part of Anders’s plan at all-the exact opposite of his plan, in fact-and wasn’t that just prime evidence that some people had all the luck, while others had none? For the first time, Anders was actively trying to repulse someone, and instead they responded by furthering their advances, rather than mounting a well-advised retreat ( ... )
Reply
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At least it might have made things cleaner. Fire did have a sanitizing effect.
When the elf did not leave-when instead he let out a sudden breath, like a blacksmith’s bellows being squeezed too quick and too tight-Anders startled, nearly tripping over the doorjamb. Large, green eyes were fixed on him once more, demanding answers where Anders was already certain he had none.
Anyway, wasn’t it the privilege of the surveillance target to ask the questions about why he was under surveillance? Anything else just seemed unfair ( ... )
Reply
Then his lip curled, eyes turning ground-ward.
Bare feet were always a mistake in Darktown. Anders could have warned him about that, though he didn’t seem the sort inclined to listen.
‘I am called Fenris,’ he said finally, something dark coloring his voice. Anders leaned against the doorframe, fingers stilling atop a plucked thread at his wear-worn elbow, while Fenris resumed his retreat through the muck and slumbering drunkards that made up most of Darktown’s streets. If they could even be called streets, anymore, since they were primarily made of sewage.
Anders watched him leave, studying the slender line of his back, the flicker of white where the lyrium tattoos appeared between the gaps in his armor. In Kirkwall, it was possible to see something new every day, despite the routine ( ... )
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