tarot of the drowning world [PAST]

Fenris raised a single, white brow, giving the shorter elf a sardonic look as she fretted in his entryway. When she asked if he knew about her work in the alienage, he only crossed his arms, waiting for her to go on. Her question about the alienage was a rhetorical one, of course. He'd been by the alienage more than a handful of times, and he'd seen how it had improved over the years.

It was still a filthy, rotten shithole, of course. This was Kirkwall, after all.

Still, hearing the bloodmage say that she was angry was...new. She was usually much more of the butterflies and rainbows type. When she wasn't cutting herself and bathing in her own blood, presumably.

He realized he had gotten distracted when Merrill started to bite at her thumb, and in the next moment - 'Varric is stepping down as Viscount.' The words came out rushed, almost panicked. Fenris blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Tapped his fingers against his thigh, a swift staccato that punctuated his suddenly scarce thoughts. "And the dwarf put you forward to take his place, I presume? You wouldn't be this flustered otherwise." A pause, a small frown, as he looked down at the black-haired elf. And then he shrugged. "Alright. Well enough, I suppose. So what did you come here for?"