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.
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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When they stop to set up camp, Cyril starts gathering materials around them. "With my Clan I would make traps that would catch small animals. I could try to make one again," he explains. "I.. I might be out of practice though. It has been eight years."
He still wants to find a way to contribute and he isn't sure he fully trusts himself with a bow yet. All of the muscles he had built up in his arms had faded from the strength of an archer to the soft, lightly muscled tone that the Magister had preferred. He doesn't think he could aim or be effective at all, but he can try to remember how to capture food.
The trap making idea is a way to bring something to Fernis that isn't gold made in a way he disagrees with.
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"Certainly. That would actually be a very big help, thank you."
He offered a smile. He knew Cyril was looking for ways to be useful. Ways to justify his being there- hell, to justify him being anywhere. It takes a while...for that feeling to go. To let oneself just...be. He allowed Cyril this small thin without complaint.
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He returns to the fire and settles next to Fenris, letting the warmth wash over him.
He doesn't speak right away. He's mostly listening to see if one of his traps set, but also he doesn't really feel the need to fill his time with Fenris with small talk.
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"How do you feel? Now you know for certain this is not a dream. Has it sunk in yet?"
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"Yes. I think so. I still... There are moments I'm not sure that I'm real, but I know that the world is. That's a start, isn't it?"
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That...probably wasn't meant to be as lewd as it came out, and he clears his throat awkwardly. Just...breeze past.
"Um. We should be on our next target within a days time."
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"Should I find a nearby village to lay low in when we get close enough for you to track him?"
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That was his real worry. The negative effect of being around slavers.
"Not that I don't think you're a capable fighter, of course. But I'd rather you be comfortable."
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"I used to be a hunter, and pretty decent with a bow, but I've spent the last handful of years as a pampered indoor pet. I don't even have the muscle in my arm to use a bow well in a fight."
He frowns a bit at the thought, realizing how many of his skills he had lost. "I should work to correct that, but for now I wouldn't want to be a liability. You'll have to protect me as well as counter what the slavers are tossing at you. I'd do more harm than good."
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He appreciates Cyril sees that, that he doesn't want to be in the way- that he doesn't feel like he's losing out on some revenge- Maker knows, that's what Fenris lived and breathed for so long. He's glad to see it hasn't sunk as deep. Not obviously so, anyway.
"When I have dealt with this band, I can help you train, if you would like. Regain some muscle strength."
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He trails off as he realizes how true that statement is and then looks a little embarrassed at having just said it outright.
"Plus, I'll never say no to seeing you work your body." Adding a flirt brought the conversation back to a place he felt comfortable.
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He laughs, awkward, but certainly not unwelcome.
"Well. Thank you. I can say very much likewise."
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"Oh, there absolutely is."
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"I should go look at that," he says before standing. "Don't go anywhere," he teases a bit before disappearing to find the trap.
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"Yes...of course. I'll wait here."
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Cyril gives him a smile before heading into the woods and is gone for only a handful of minutes. When he returns he has a couple of rabbits. He seems impossibly proud of something so simple, but the fact that most of the traps worked makes him feel confident in the abilities he had thought he had forgotten. Then he takes to the task of skinning and preparing the animals, something else he manages to remember how to mostly do on his own and which gives him more moments of pride.
He had been relying pretty heavily on Fenris until then. The thought that he can do something on his own is reassuring. Once the animals are finally being cooked on the fire and he's washed his hands he settles next to Fenris again, and still seems pretty pleased over everything.
"Maybe starting over won't be as difficult as I thought..." he admits after a moment.
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"You seem to have a very good handle of it, my friend."
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"You are putting your stomach on the line for me right now."
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Hard earned indeed, but Cyril has earned that much.
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"I'll try not to disappoint you."
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"I am certain that you won't."
And he finds that he's surprised he means that. His faith in the other elf has certainly grown plenty.
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"I feel like it's been a long time since I could have that," he admitted after a moment. "It's nice to have someone to count on, and who counts on me too."
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And so, he let the conversation lull into silence, occasionally offering some small conversation as their food cooked, and then was eaten. It was at the end of the meal, satiated and content, that he spoke again, offering a smile.
"That was marvellous, my compliments to the chef."
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"It is good to know I can still manage it though. There are so many skills that I was raised with, skills engrained in me since I was a child, that I haven't put to use since I was taken. A part of me always worried that all of it would have faded by now." He paused, considering the woods around him for a moment.
"There are a great many things about my people that bother me, but there's good there too, I think." He shrugged. "At least I hope so, or else there was a lot that I tried to cling to that would end up being meaningless."
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i'm gonna fast forward a bit? let me know if you want me to change anything!
it's totes ok with meeee
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