[Is he shocked? Not particularly. It isn't information that he'd known, but still, that sounds about right. A Tevene magister out to enslave, mutilate, experiment upon, and eventually murder, yes, that's pretty much exactly their constantly motive, whether they're fifty years old or five hundred. Fenris pulls a face— it is good to hear it confirmed— and reaches for his cards.]
Of course he does.
[He can still remember that booming voice, that imperious stare, the confusion and rage in the Corypheus' tone . . . the way he had gone from waking up to assuming they were slaves and ordering them about all within five minutes, oh, yes. But ah . . . he glances up.]
A pity his death did not stick the first time. We did try to be thorough. [Did I tell you that? Did you know? Perhaps soon those questions will stop springing to the forefront of his mind, but not tonight. What do you know of me? What did I tell you?, his memory dark and dim, offering no hints no matter how often he probes it.] But he died once, and that is a comfort. It will not be long before he dies again.
[So easily said! But not with arrogance; but rather, with the quiet, determined confidence of one who watched him fall. It happened before; it will happen again, whether or not Corypheus realizes it. They will beat back Corypheus and his forces; they will wage war on Tevinter, pushing her borders back. Anything else is not worth considering— not because it isn't a possibility, but because he refuses to allow it to pass.
Fenris reaches for his port and offers up a card.]
At a guess, then, out of all those reasons . . . [Well, of course it's because of his mark. Fenris thinks. His mark or his ears, but at the end of the day, the result is the same.] I was going to venture that perhaps you weren't quite so light-fingered as you thought yourself, but perhaps not.
You said we went hunting together, when the mood struck us. [There's a dozen questions layered beneath there, ones Fenris firmly ignores.] I would go with you soon, if you are inclined.
[Teasing, then, lightly:]
But I would first know what you can do beyond pinch pockets. Is it to be a test of skill as we slaughter our prey, or was I teaching you how to hold a sword?
no subject
Of course he does.
[He can still remember that booming voice, that imperious stare, the confusion and rage in the Corypheus' tone . . . the way he had gone from waking up to assuming they were slaves and ordering them about all within five minutes, oh, yes. But ah . . . he glances up.]
A pity his death did not stick the first time. We did try to be thorough. [Did I tell you that? Did you know? Perhaps soon those questions will stop springing to the forefront of his mind, but not tonight. What do you know of me? What did I tell you?, his memory dark and dim, offering no hints no matter how often he probes it.] But he died once, and that is a comfort. It will not be long before he dies again.
[So easily said! But not with arrogance; but rather, with the quiet, determined confidence of one who watched him fall. It happened before; it will happen again, whether or not Corypheus realizes it. They will beat back Corypheus and his forces; they will wage war on Tevinter, pushing her borders back. Anything else is not worth considering— not because it isn't a possibility, but because he refuses to allow it to pass.
Fenris reaches for his port and offers up a card.]
At a guess, then, out of all those reasons . . . [Well, of course it's because of his mark. Fenris thinks. His mark or his ears, but at the end of the day, the result is the same.] I was going to venture that perhaps you weren't quite so light-fingered as you thought yourself, but perhaps not.
You said we went hunting together, when the mood struck us. [There's a dozen questions layered beneath there, ones Fenris firmly ignores.] I would go with you soon, if you are inclined.
[Teasing, then, lightly:]
But I would first know what you can do beyond pinch pockets. Is it to be a test of skill as we slaughter our prey, or was I teaching you how to hold a sword?