though the fear keeps me moving

[freewolfmoon.livejournal.com]

Character(s): Fenris (freewolfmoon) and Elika (waylights)
Location: Near the front gate of Balamb Garden.
Rating: Maybe PG for possible discussion of disturbing things, no more than PG-13.
Open/Closed/Finished: Closed
Summary: Fenris doesn't so much have issues as an entire subscription. Elika interrupts one of the more basic ones.

Waking up early with familiar pain pulsing beneath his skin is a common enough occurrence that, back home, Fenris had entire routines planned out for dealing with it. Pace this room so many times, then switch direction, then move to that room. Clean the huge greatsword he wielded until he'd visualized it cutting down so many enemies, transferring the lingering agony from his body to theirs. At no point would he have needed to curl up in quiet suffering on a single bed in a room shared with two other men, neither of whom he wants seeing him vulnerable.

He misses his stolen mansion. It was nice while he had it.

Eventually, when the strange glowing digits of the clock read 5:47, he tires of playing games in his head with the permutations they can flip through, or rather, it just isn't enough to dull the pain anymore. He gets up in perfect silence, pulls the rest of his armor on (casual wear is not for him; neither are shoes), picks up his sword, and walks out of the room to pace the halls noiselessly, a predator maddened by burning poison.

At least, that's the image he has of himself. In truth, as he leans on a railing at the top of some stairs near the gate leading out of Garden, he just looks like a man who's tired and hurting. It's harder to keep his guard up after four hours of sleep.

Comments

[waylights.livejournal.com]

Elika likes the morning. This is a foreign concept, she knows, to most of her students as well as her companion, but there's something about rising with the sun that makes her feel accomplished and refreshed, even before her day starts. It's calm, few people are about, and those that are are usually of a like mind, quietly enjoying the fresh air.

So the last person she was expecting to see during her morning jog was one pale-haired elf, clutching the railing at the gates and looking sore. It's a look she knows, for all that her meeting with it was brief. The thought of passing him by flashes inside her mind, but she'll spend the rest of the day fretting if she leaves him alone with his hurt, even if he ends up turning her away.

Her legs carry her to him, her bare feet stalling next to his on the smooth path.

"Good morning, Fenris." She greets him, straightening, voice low. "You look pained. Is it the markings?"

[freewolfmoon.livejournal.com]

He hears her soft approach, but doesn't turn to look at her even as he recognizes her out of the corner of his eye; he just grips the railing a little harder and grimaces. The thought flashes through his head that there are worse people than Elika to see him like this, but he pushes it aside.

"It's morning, then." His own voice is flat. "A strange hour." He pauses a beat, then glances sidelong at her. Now that he knows he's in someone else's presence, he's become reserved again, his expression typically inscrutable. Only a faint glaze to his eyes and the slightest raggedness to his breath gives him away as in pain. "Can you think of anything else it would be?"

He looks away again. "They're mine once more. There's no need for you to concern yourself."

[waylights.livejournal.com]

"They were mine for mere weeks, and I found them unbearable," she informs him, resisting the impulse to reach out and touch him, if only to dull the pain an instant. He might fool anyone else here, but not her, not after the display she'd just witnessed.

A strange hour, he'd said, and she has to disagree, hardly strange, a good hour, quiet, ideal for reflection. Her body angles towards his and away from the sun that splashes against their faces. The infirmary, she thinks, will be closed. Her gaze falls back to him and lands squarely on his jaw, his neck, following down the markings like the branches of a grotesque tree. It makes her feel powerless, knowing that the one thing she can do for him, he won't let her do--and she knows better than to press. So she settles for the next best thing.

"Would you like to walk with me, until the infirmary opens?"

[freewolfmoon.livejournal.com]

It's just as well that she resists. The tense and guarded look he's giving her, the way his shoulders draw inward as if to protect himself and ward off all outside contact, they make it clear enough that he wouldn't react well to the touch. "It has been many years. I..." A moment's pause; the walls behind his eyes flicker and shift as he tries to decide how much to tell Elika.

He hates this world, and he has no one here. Three, four years ago that second part wouldn't have mattered. He must be starting to go soft. He would blame Hawke if she were here to take that blame. Instead, Elika is here, and she isn't Hawke or indeed anyone from his world, but she's done more to earn his respect than most. "I have no memory of a time without this agony. I learned to bear it."

Her offer draws a sidelong look from him, and for a moment he says nothing. Then, finally, he gives a slight nod and straightens up from the railing.