samahl | for fenris

for fenris

Magister Anguis had once belonged to an impressive Tevinter household. Once upon a time, the name had had weight and power behind it. Now, though he still had the title of Magister, it was widely known that his house was deeply in debt. He had sold most of his estate and slaves in effort to save face, keeping only a small house close to the edge of the Starkhaven border and three slaves; one young maid, a footman, and his most prized possession, a Dalish elf whom he kept close to him nearly every moment.

The Dalish elf was called Cervi by the Magister but that was not the name given to him by his Clan. It had been years since he had been called his given name and though Cyril kept it in his heart he was rather protective of who knew it. The two other elven slaves who tended to the house were teenagers, Cassia and Viridi, and even they knew him only by the name their master had given him.

The summer of 9:40 Dragon had been remarkable so far because the south had been plunged to chaos since the Nevarran Accords had been annulled. They were at war, with mages and templars bring death and fire every where they went. That and the tensions between the Empress and her cousin had boiled over into a Civil War that ravaged the Dales.

Chaos in the South brought profit for Tevinter, and Master Anguis had wanted to take advantage of that. He had been so desperate to regain his family's standings that he had even crossed the border into Starkhaven. He allied himself with mercenaries turned slavers and preyed on those caught up in the chaos. He was so set in the idea of finding a fortune by selling the disenfranchised that he had even brought Cassia, Viridi, and 'Cervi' with him - ignoring the fact that technically once they crossed the border the three were technically no longer in bondage. To him they were property, and always would be.

The night was warm, but not nearly as hot as it would have been north of Vyrantium. Cyril was finishing up setting up a bath that he and Anguis would have shared. Cassia and Viridi were cleaning up in the kitchen after creating a modest meal for their master. The Magister was in his study going over papers that tracked the transportation of the slaves his men had found.

He had no idea that those men were now likely dead, nor that the one who had attacked them had found information on him and his location. No one in the house would have dared to believe that the Magister would not make it through the night.

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"Certainly. It would help pass the time, and it would be somewhat helpful for the future," he offers a smile. "Thank you."

Cyril nods and presses his lips together in thought, considering the direction to two teenagers had left. "When were you planning to leave?"

"In the morning, first light. Best we get some rest before we start travelling, it might be a while before we get a decent bed again."

And he never wanted to overstretch Sebastian's hospitality- no matter what the Prince said otherwise, he always felt like he was intruding.

Cyril nodded, acknowledging that, though he wasn't sure how much sleep he would be able to get. He hadn't slept at all during their trip to Starkhaven. He didn't want to dwell on that though, preferring instead to focus on the future.

"I'll make sure that Cassia and Viridi are settled in tonight then, and that they're set with everything they need." He seemed as if he was going to leave, but then he paused and considered Fenris.

"Please don't leave without me," he asked, voice gentle.

The tone surprised him, the quiet need there. He wasn't used to such sincerity- or at least, the sincere desire to be around him. Honestly, he wouldn't have blamed Cyril for sneaking away in the night, or just avoiding travelling with him altogether. He inclines his head in agreement, in assurance.

"...You have my word.

Cyril offers him a grateful smile and then disappears to spend time with the other two slaves who had lived with the magister.

The next day he's ready to go at dawn, and meets Fenris. He looks a little tired around the edges, but ready to leave.

Fenris, as promised, is in the courtyard. He's making a final check of his pack, making sure he has everything he needs, light traveller as he is. When he notices Cyril, he inclines his head in greeting.

"Ready to move?"

Cyril has a pack of his own. Despite his tiredness, he offers Fenris a smile and nods.

"It's been a long time since I was nomadic. Hopefully I haven't forgotten everything," he teases lightly, mostly in a self-depreciating sort of way.

The other elf gives a soft huff that's almost laughter.

"We will soon see if you perish in the next few days or not."

He's...probably joking. He sounds like he's joking.

Cyril looks amused by the joke, so he clearly takes it as a joke. "If that happens, please bury me near a tree. I do need to be Dalish in some way, even if it's with my burial."

"Can I use any kind of tree? Does it have to be one of those...um. What're they called? The alienage ones?"

He sounds amused but he's also a little serious too. He has no idea how you Dalish, sorry, Cyril.

"The Vhenadahl?" Cyril asks, and chuckles. "Nah. It can be any old tree. Though, if you happen to find a talking one, that would be pretty good too. Then it could sing of the beauty that was lost with my demise." He seems to enjoy being able to tease Fenris and joke with him.

"And the beauty of the man who buried me."

That does cause a light blush to cross Fenris' cheeks, as he lets out a low, amused chuckle. This was...nice, he found he truly enjoyed it. Enjoyed Cyril's company. Relaxing more every day with him.

"I doubt I would go that close to a singing tree, but if that's the song it would sing, I might make an exception," a smile. "All for you, of course. To sing your memory, and suchlike."

"Oh of course, you aren't the type to worry about the trees singing about you," Cyril teased. "Maybe instead they'll talk about your giant ... sword." And he really shouldn't have made that sound so suggestive, and yet here they were.

A loud, surprised laugh escapes him. He genuinely hand't been expecting that.

"I'm not convinced many people would want to hear that song."

"I might," Cyril comments, still teasing more than anything though. "But I've been told I have a thing for giant swords."

"Is that the case? Duly noted."

There's a small up-curl of his lips at that, perhaps a little appraisal.

"Well, we aught to get moving."

Cyril nods at that. "Lead the way. I'll follow you," he replies. He shifts his pack just to make sure he's ready to head out.

Fenris gave a nod and headed off towards the exist, his own pack light as always, enough to get by on. He walked in relative silence, only occasionally offering insight into anything Cyril might ask him- and the days went much that way- camping out, quiet conversation- occasionally stopping in a village for an inn, a proper bed- and a half decent meal.

It's at one of these that they've finally stopped. Fenris sitting by the fire, sipping some wine, waiting for Cyril to return from...whatever it was he was doing that brought them coin of an evening. He had a bad feeling what that might be, but he wasn't sure how wise it would be to voice it.

Cyril doesn't complain, and he seems happy that he's able to do something to contribute - even though he is basically doing exactly what Fenris is assuming.

He also isn't sleeping. At all. There a moments when they are resting or have stopped where he starts to nod off, but then he will wake himself up and refuse to take a deep sleep.

He enjoys being with Fenris though. A lot more than he can fully admit. And when he comes into the inn and sees Fenris by the fire he smiles and comes over to him.

"Is the wine good?" he asks, as he sits gently next to Fenris. He lets his body rest of a moment, as even inch of him cries out to be allowed to stop and sleep.

For his part, Fenris was certainly feeling more and more at ease around Cyril. He doesn't tense up around him any more, or hedge around conversations. He offers easy smile and comfortable conversation in the presence of the other.

It's one of those easy smiles he offers as Cyril enters, sitting beside him. He slides the bottle over, offering it up.

"It's not bad, given it's such a small place."

Cyril takes the bottle to try some of it for his own. He chuckles gently once he does, not wanting to make any sort of face that could be considered rude.

"Yes, I see what you mean," he says before handing the wine back to Fenris. He isn't saying it's good, but it's not the worst thing he's eaten.

He sits back and feels his eyes start to drop so he leans forward again, forcing his body into a more uncomfortable posture that somehow still manages to look graceful and well poised.

"What time are we planning to head back out tomorrow?"

"I was planning on leaving at first light."

He sits back, watching Cyril thoughtfully, brow creased- concern filtering through. He can see the exhaustion hanging on the other elf. It's almost palpable. It only cements his fears, of what Cyril has been doing to earn them extra coin. It makes him feel sick to his stomach.

"But I think you would benefit from a little extra sleep tonight. You're exhausted."

"I'll be fine," Cyril offers, giving Fenris a soft smile that is meant to be reassuring but probably has some of his exhaustion littered along its corners.

"At first light it is, then," he adds cheerfully, hoping that Fenris will just agree and drop it.

"No," he's not dropping it at all. "You need more sleep. You're exhausted. We can set off later, it's no matter."

He doesn't mirror Cyril's attempt at cheer. The frown remains, unweidling.

"...We should probably talk about this."

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