[ the woods haven't exactly been fenris' first go-to place for relaxation. and yet, today, he embarks there out of almost necessity. things are turbulent at best back in kirkwall—they are all upon the brink of something that sits stale and stagnant in the air, choking anyone with each breath. and to be dragged here, to a fight he has nothing to do with, nothing on either side to care for...
it is too much to stand and he doesn't like it.
there is a quiet comfort within the forest that fenris needs. first and foremost, and perhaps the most important point of all: there will be no one around. and that is what he needs. the silence and solitude so he can think. it's laughable, really, that he is finally free completely, only to find himself ensnared once more, forced into something he wants no part of.
this just stands to reason that no man will ever be truly free.
a large greatsword is strapped to his back, nearly the size of himself and gleaming in stray beams of sunlight. his footsteps are near silent out of years practice at not making a sound rather than attempting to sneak up on anyone. he hears the shifting of a body, the nocking of the arrow—a sound he knows so well now from sebastian—and the voice.
fenris slows his steps, but never stops, not until the owner of voice and arrow alike are within his proper vision. his posture is slightly slumped; at first glance he gives no sign of being a feral beast. a slow blink as he looks from the point of the arrow to the face of the man.
no. elf.
at the very least, he doesn't appear to be dalish. a plus. ]
no subject
it is too much to stand and he doesn't like it.
there is a quiet comfort within the forest that fenris needs. first and foremost, and perhaps the most important point of all: there will be no one around. and that is what he needs. the silence and solitude so he can think. it's laughable, really, that he is finally free completely, only to find himself ensnared once more, forced into something he wants no part of.
this just stands to reason that no man will ever be truly free.
a large greatsword is strapped to his back, nearly the size of himself and gleaming in stray beams of sunlight. his footsteps are near silent out of years practice at not making a sound rather than attempting to sneak up on anyone. he hears the shifting of a body, the nocking of the arrow—a sound he knows so well now from sebastian—and the voice.
fenris slows his steps, but never stops, not until the owner of voice and arrow alike are within his proper vision. his posture is slightly slumped; at first glance he gives no sign of being a feral beast. a slow blink as he looks from the point of the arrow to the face of the man.
no. elf.
at the very least, he doesn't appear to be dalish. a plus. ]
At ease. I mean no harm nor disruption.