[ feasts, festivals, parties, whatever aren't exactly fenris' idea of a great time. there are a dozen other places he could think to be that wouldn't have him so ill at ease. the very idea of nobility and upperclass bother him. there's a rigidity to his frame, making him look like a tiger crouched and ready to strike at any given moment.
strangely, maybe (except not really), he's thankful to at least have his weapon handy. not that he suspects he'll need it, but he knows the picture it makes. at least it will ward off any untoward greetings.
...except one, apparently. fenris has a bottle of wine clasped between the fingers of one hand (he nicked it from somewhere, don't worry about it) and drinks straight from it instead of using a glass. old habits. his lips curl into a slight sneer, for once not intending to be actually that. he's trying to appear at ease. ]
It's too much for show. [ he takes a pull from the bottle before glancing over. ] And they have poor choices for wine.
no subject
strangely, maybe (except not really), he's thankful to at least have his weapon handy. not that he suspects he'll need it, but he knows the picture it makes. at least it will ward off any untoward greetings.
...except one, apparently. fenris has a bottle of wine clasped between the fingers of one hand (he nicked it from somewhere, don't worry about it) and drinks straight from it instead of using a glass. old habits. his lips curl into a slight sneer, for once not intending to be actually that. he's trying to appear at ease. ]
It's too much for show. [ he takes a pull from the bottle before glancing over. ] And they have poor choices for wine.