No. Not a Dalish name. It comes from before the Dalish. It's a name given to the man that the Dalish believe is the god of trickery. Sometimes he's also called The Dread Wolf.
I don't really think I need to get into all of the myths around him, though I can share if you're curious about Dalish legend. Most of them are false. The Dalish... They believe in a lot of incorrect things.
My point is the truth of him. It turns out he was a liberator of slaves.
[Cyril glances at Bull for a second, curious how he'll take to Cyril talking about Solas in a positive light.]
[Bull doesn't say a word and takes a drink from his bottle. He has a lot of feelings about Solas but he's planned to follow Cyril's path concerning him no matter what.
You don't always have to agree with a leader to follow them. Sometimes you just have to trust even if you don't like it.]
[ Fen'Harel, The Dread Wolf, the liberator of slaves.
Fenris, The Little Wolf, the killer of slavers.
Cyril said he knew of his future, knew much about him when he had no memories to speak of. Slowly, he lowered his fork as he felt a tightness in his throat, his eyes widening slightly. ]
First, I'm telling you that the Dalish are mistaken. I should probably care more about that, but... Eh. [He shrugs. He never believed in the Creators so it hadn't been devasting to discover they were all just very powerful mages. He imagines other Dalish elves would have been hurt by all that he learned.]
And that once upon a time elves enslaved each other. [That one had hurt. HE had wanted to believe his people were more than that, but it turned out they were just like everyone else.] I'm telling you that a man with great power realized it was wrong and fought to liberate them. And that history remembers him as a tricker and manipulator. A predator who brings death and bad luck.
[He winces and reaches out to rub that the remainder of his ruined arm. Sometimes the magic lingering in it flares up and aches, and when he talks about Solas it seems to happen more intensely. Might be a psychological thing more than anything.]
I'm curious, if you were to meet this man, what would you think about him?
You're not him, Fenris. That's not what he's saying.
[Otherwise, Bull doesn't add anything. He lets the two of them have this discussion together. To figure out things on their own. What they have in common, what they don't.]
I... [ All of this was becoming distressingly unclear, vague. Or perhaps he was drawing too much from a similarity of a name and the need to kill slavers. But why else would Cyril tell him all of this if it was not relevant to him? Or was it relevant in an entirely different way?
Either way, his discomfort rendered him momentarily quiet. Finally, Bull broke through his troubled mind like a beacon in the night. A large breath he did not know he had been holding was slowly exhaled, and he gripped his wine before he took a long swig from it.
Finally, he spoke more clearly.. ]
Any enemy of slavers is a friend of mine, god or man.
[Cyril is careful not to react negatively at the anger. He gets why his roundabout way of talking about Solas would inspire it.
Bull and Fenris talking about openly fighting the system had made his thoughts linger on Solas, on how Solas would encourage the same line of thinking, and how easy it had been to fall back into being Solas's friend when he had been here even knowing all the terrible things he planned to do back home. And then how Solas had disappeared one day with no trace of what had happened to him.
It was probably better to fight that urge to hide how disgusted he was with everything in this world than give into that strange nolgastic pain and talk about Fen'Harel.]
Yes. I'm sorry, Fenris. This isn't good breakfast conversation. Or first meeting conversation.
Usually, you try to have the 'would you be comfortable fighting a god of liberation with me and my qunari friend' conversation on the third meeting at least.
[ Fenris has been seconds from leaving the table, but Cyril acknowledged where he went wrong and apologized. That went a long way for someone who so rarely heard them.
Even so, Cyril's last sentence left a sour taste in his mouth and he replied with unveiled bitterness. ]
I have only just met you and I am not a part of your war. I was not interested in being recruited, either.
[Bull doesn't point out how Fenris volunteered to fight him and instead looks between them before just letting the bottle slip from his hand so it hit the floor next to him. Like it was an accident.
It wasn't.
He looked at the mess of shattered glass (since he'd made sure it would hit at a weak point of the bottle) and what was left of the wine.]
[Cyril feels that it's completely fair for Fenris to choose which battles he fights in. It always is, but even more so here. This world will try everything to strip their agency, which means that they have to fight all the harder to respect it in each other.
Anyway, the battle here isn't anything to do with Thedas, it's against the LIES program and those who mark others as inferior. He should have been focused on that from the start.
But the breaking glass distracts him from finding a way to express that and he jerks up to try to help to clean it up.]
You okay? [His first concern is to make sure the glass hasn't cut Bull.]
[ Though he had no proof, Fenris suspected that the drop had been deliberate. A good way to break the tension, though his mood had gone so rotten he was not certain that he wanted to play the game.
He sprung into action to get the broom, his bare feet padding nimbly on the floor to avoid the glass. A few dish towels were pulled along to toss on the wet mass. As he began to sweep the shards he said nothing.
It'll take more than broken glass to do anything to me. Still got two fingers and everything.
[He lifted his hand up to show off his hand. With the old scars for where those fingers were gone and two remained.
Chuckling softly, he gets to his feet.]
Come on, boss. I'll grab you a bottle you can take home with you. Come with me and let me know what you want.
[That way they could give Fenris a moment alone to take his frustrations out on spilled wine and broken glass. He waves his hand to show him back the way to the cellar.]
[Cyril nods, accepting that, though he doubts that Fenris actually likes him at all. Still, he feels like he at least owes Bull an explanation.]
You talking about fighting the powers that be here... It made me think about Solas. It made me miss him.
[Maybe that's what all of that was. Him missing a friend and wanting to talk about him.]
I hate that I miss him.
[He shouldn't miss him. He shouldn't talk about him. He shouldn't want to save him. He shouldn't worry about battles back home while he's here failing to fight the evils of this world.]
Figured. Try saying that next time. He might get it.
[And if Fenris doesn't, well, at least Cyril was straightforward with him.]
Go ahead and grab a bottle. I'll walk you out.
[A heavy hand rests on his shoulder to tell him that he's not mad at him, that he doesn't judge him. Sometimes, that's just the way the heart is. Whether you like it or not.]
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nehraachargers) wrote2019-11-17 03:10 pm
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[It just hasn't come up in his "adventure" sharing honestly.]
He's still learning a lot about stuff we've done.
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[ He thought about that name for a moment, his finger tapping thoughtfully against the side of his bottle. ]
That is a Dalish name?
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I don't really think I need to get into all of the myths around him, though I can share if you're curious about Dalish legend. Most of them are false. The Dalish... They believe in a lot of incorrect things.
My point is the truth of him. It turns out he was a liberator of slaves.
[Cyril glances at Bull for a second, curious how he'll take to Cyril talking about Solas in a positive light.]
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You don't always have to agree with a leader to follow them. Sometimes you just have to trust even if you don't like it.]
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Fenris, The Little Wolf, the killer of slavers.
Cyril said he knew of his future, knew much about him when he had no memories to speak of. Slowly, he lowered his fork as he felt a tightness in his throat, his eyes widening slightly. ]
What are you trying to tell me?
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First, I'm telling you that the Dalish are mistaken. I should probably care more about that, but... Eh. [He shrugs. He never believed in the Creators so it hadn't been devasting to discover they were all just very powerful mages. He imagines other Dalish elves would have been hurt by all that he learned.]
And that once upon a time elves enslaved each other. [That one had hurt. HE had wanted to believe his people were more than that, but it turned out they were just like everyone else.] I'm telling you that a man with great power realized it was wrong and fought to liberate them. And that history remembers him as a tricker and manipulator. A predator who brings death and bad luck.
[He winces and reaches out to rub that the remainder of his ruined arm. Sometimes the magic lingering in it flares up and aches, and when he talks about Solas it seems to happen more intensely. Might be a psychological thing more than anything.]
I'm curious, if you were to meet this man, what would you think about him?
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[Otherwise, Bull doesn't add anything. He lets the two of them have this discussion together. To figure out things on their own. What they have in common, what they don't.]
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Either way, his discomfort rendered him momentarily quiet. Finally, Bull broke through his troubled mind like a beacon in the night. A large breath he did not know he had been holding was slowly exhaled, and he gripped his wine before he took a long swig from it.
Finally, he spoke more clearly.. ]
Any enemy of slavers is a friend of mine, god or man.
[ it was simple enough to him. ]
Why are you telling me this?
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An admirable approach, and I'm sorry for being confusing.
Fen'Harel is still alive. His real name is Solas.
When I first arrived in this world he was here too. He didn't know me as his Inquisitor but he was still my first submissive in this system.
He is no longer here, but... It's important you know who he really is in case he reappears.
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[He might have some opinions.
Maybe.
(Definitely.)]
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[ He grunted, finally relaxed as he leaned back in his chair.
Both Bull and Cyril were leaving out a few details about Solas that might make Fenris change his mind, though. ]
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Now he was pissed. ]
You could have fucking led with that.
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[And someone wants to save him too but Bull isn't going to mention that. Pointedly. For good reason.
He knows what Cyril is doing here and he's letting him. But also he doesn't like how Solas makes his wine taste.]
Probably time we talked about something else, boss.
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Bull and Fenris talking about openly fighting the system had made his thoughts linger on Solas, on how Solas would encourage the same line of thinking, and how easy it had been to fall back into being Solas's friend when he had been here even knowing all the terrible things he planned to do back home. And then how Solas had disappeared one day with no trace of what had happened to him.
It was probably better to fight that urge to hide how disgusted he was with everything in this world than give into that strange nolgastic pain and talk about Fen'Harel.]
Yes. I'm sorry, Fenris. This isn't good breakfast conversation. Or first meeting conversation.
Usually, you try to have the 'would you be comfortable fighting a god of liberation with me and my qunari friend' conversation on the third meeting at least.
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Even so, Cyril's last sentence left a sour taste in his mouth and he replied with unveiled bitterness. ]
I have only just met you and I am not a part of your war. I was not interested in being recruited, either.
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It wasn't.
He looked at the mess of shattered glass (since he'd made sure it would hit at a weak point of the bottle) and what was left of the wine.]
Well. Shit.
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Anyway, the battle here isn't anything to do with Thedas, it's against the LIES program and those who mark others as inferior. He should have been focused on that from the start.
But the breaking glass distracts him from finding a way to express that and he jerks up to try to help to clean it up.]
You okay? [His first concern is to make sure the glass hasn't cut Bull.]
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He sprung into action to get the broom, his bare feet padding nimbly on the floor to avoid the glass. A few dish towels were pulled along to toss on the wet mass. As he began to sweep the shards he said nothing.
Cyril asked the question he would have already. ]
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[He lifted his hand up to show off his hand. With the old scars for where those fingers were gone and two remained.
Chuckling softly, he gets to his feet.]
Come on, boss. I'll grab you a bottle you can take home with you. Come with me and let me know what you want.
[That way they could give Fenris a moment alone to take his frustrations out on spilled wine and broken glass. He waves his hand to show him back the way to the cellar.]
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[It's not as if he can do much to help clean up with his only hand injured and Bull has a good idea that they need some space.
He thinks it might just be better for him to leave outright, but he lets Bull take him to the cellar instead.]
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[Looking at some of the bottles, he brings some down within reach for Cyril to pick from.]
Next time you come around, just be upfront with him. He might not always like it but he appreciates it more than dancing around things.
[Bull smiles and nods for him to go pick a bottle.]
He likes you. He's just angry.
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You talking about fighting the powers that be here... It made me think about Solas. It made me miss him.
[Maybe that's what all of that was. Him missing a friend and wanting to talk about him.]
I hate that I miss him.
[He shouldn't miss him. He shouldn't talk about him. He shouldn't want to save him. He shouldn't worry about battles back home while he's here failing to fight the evils of this world.]
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[And if Fenris doesn't, well, at least Cyril was straightforward with him.]
Go ahead and grab a bottle. I'll walk you out.
[A heavy hand rests on his shoulder to tell him that he's not mad at him, that he doesn't judge him. Sometimes, that's just the way the heart is. Whether you like it or not.]
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No. I think I'll just go, Bull.
Thank you for everything. [A pause.] I mean it. Knowing you're here is... It's a lot.
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