[He rumbles his agreement for that assessment, some small part of him satisfied to hear it. Murder, yes, and it would not shock him to hear that Violet has ordered that done already, even if her hand hasn't struck the blow just yet. There's a streak of violence in her, one that will overflow sooner or later. Fenris has seen it before, and not just in Hadriana.
But oh, that question. That quiet, soft question, and when Astarion speaks in that tone it disarms all of Fenris' defenses. There's something so intimate about it, gentle in ways that he is not used to. Fenris swallows thickly, his head tipping down as he struggles to think of how to respond.
For he wants to, he does, but the memories muddle in his mind, incidents smearing into one another: flashes of blue eyes and black hair, his name breathed into his ear and a lithe body writhing above his own. Danarius' seething rage as Fenris tried his hardest to fight through a tournament while drugged up, his water tainted and Hadriana laughing just out of sight. Food kept just out of reach and water given only in a dog dish, his clothes stained and ripped, his sleep interrupted for days on end—
It goes on and on. And the words won't come, but that's never been his way. Lifting up just slightly off the wall, he turns towards Astarion. Carefully, he extends his thumb and pointer finger, wrapping them gently around the front of his throat for a long few seconds.]
She would collar me like a dog, and tie my lead to the wall.
[He does not keep the hold for long; in the next instant his thumb strokes gently against Astarion's neck, soft affection before he pulls away.]
And she would do anything she pleased with her caught prize, knowing that I could not report anything.
[He catches Astarion's eye, confirming and questioning all at once: do you understand? But he must. He's too clever not to.]
And I know she murdered at least one of her potential rivals in school, but I would not be shocked if that number was higher. Such competition was encouraged in Tevinter, so long as no one got caught.
Violet would thrive there, I suspect. Living in a world where all her worst tendencies were not just ignored, but revered.
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But oh, that question. That quiet, soft question, and when Astarion speaks in that tone it disarms all of Fenris' defenses. There's something so intimate about it, gentle in ways that he is not used to. Fenris swallows thickly, his head tipping down as he struggles to think of how to respond.
For he wants to, he does, but the memories muddle in his mind, incidents smearing into one another: flashes of blue eyes and black hair, his name breathed into his ear and a lithe body writhing above his own. Danarius' seething rage as Fenris tried his hardest to fight through a tournament while drugged up, his water tainted and Hadriana laughing just out of sight. Food kept just out of reach and water given only in a dog dish, his clothes stained and ripped, his sleep interrupted for days on end—
It goes on and on. And the words won't come, but that's never been his way. Lifting up just slightly off the wall, he turns towards Astarion. Carefully, he extends his thumb and pointer finger, wrapping them gently around the front of his throat for a long few seconds.]
She would collar me like a dog, and tie my lead to the wall.
[He does not keep the hold for long; in the next instant his thumb strokes gently against Astarion's neck, soft affection before he pulls away.]
And she would do anything she pleased with her caught prize, knowing that I could not report anything.
[He catches Astarion's eye, confirming and questioning all at once: do you understand? But he must. He's too clever not to.]
And I know she murdered at least one of her potential rivals in school, but I would not be shocked if that number was higher. Such competition was encouraged in Tevinter, so long as no one got caught.
Violet would thrive there, I suspect. Living in a world where all her worst tendencies were not just ignored, but revered.