Fenris (
lyriumspecter) wrote in
genessia2017-09-12 10:06 pm
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Action | Bay and Exterior
[Disorientation was not unknown to Fenris. He’d experienced it several times in his past, but never quite in such a way. Uncertain what the pamphlet suggested aside from images of the device included in the box, he grumbled and shoved the pamphlet, the red papers included, along with the phone, into a pouch at his waist and strode through the water without hesitation. He’d faced demons and worse before, and while he was alone, he certainly wasn’t going to allow the weakness of fear show, and the spiked armor and large sword lashed to his back went a long way to help the image along.
When he approached the stand on which Weiss’ Transmission played, he glared at it but did not balk. Magic, then. Of course. He’d never heard of this Genessia, but at least the necklace was familiar. So, their kidnappers have pretty chains, then. It didn’t change what they were and he grimaced at the thought. This was all a grand deception, to be sure, even for a former slave as valuable as himself, so he had no reason to doubt the image witch’s integrity.
Still, as much as it pained him to do so, he needed more information than her repeating message supplied. Surely he wasn’t alone in this place, for this witch would not have seen fit to spend the energy to place this message here for only his benefit, and so he took up a spot leaning against the side of the map booth and would address anyone who happened past.]
You, there. I...require assistance, if you've the mind.
[He’ll not force anyone, but manners aren’t exactly his forte.]
When he approached the stand on which Weiss’ Transmission played, he glared at it but did not balk. Magic, then. Of course. He’d never heard of this Genessia, but at least the necklace was familiar. So, their kidnappers have pretty chains, then. It didn’t change what they were and he grimaced at the thought. This was all a grand deception, to be sure, even for a former slave as valuable as himself, so he had no reason to doubt the image witch’s integrity.
Still, as much as it pained him to do so, he needed more information than her repeating message supplied. Surely he wasn’t alone in this place, for this witch would not have seen fit to spend the energy to place this message here for only his benefit, and so he took up a spot leaning against the side of the map booth and would address anyone who happened past.]
You, there. I...require assistance, if you've the mind.
[He’ll not force anyone, but manners aren’t exactly his forte.]
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As for Merrill...
"I don't know, my being the Inquisitor probably had something to do with her tact on the subject. You're from an earlier time than I am, so I know that doesn't make much sense, but the Inquisition is basically what the Templars -- and Seekers -- started out as. We were reinstated when the Veil got ripped open and Thedas got flooded with demons."
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"How?" He looked around, trying to get a bearing on the situation. How the Veil may or may not be opened at some unknown point in the future didn't matter. "We can discuss that later." Which he surprised himself by saying. Apparently, talking with her later was on the table.
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On a whole new world, and all that. Whelp.
"Where's your phone? The device, I can show you how to use the network without needing to read or write."
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He looked down at the device, then back to her eyes. "You called this a phone?"
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"Basically, it works by touch. Gotta be careful about gauntlet fingertips if you don't want to scratch the hell out of it."
Holding it in her fake hand, her remaining hand was free to demonstrate how to access the network, the Inquisitor playing someone's video and someone else's voice post. She showed him where to tap to make either kind of post or reply, himself, and then moved to the actual phone functions.
After a moment of consideration, Alley added herself to his contacts in case he needed help later, adding a badly-taken picture to the entry to make it easier to tell who it was without reading.
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After she finished, he nodded his thanks. "You are most kind. I thank you."
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Elgar'nan's thorns no longer curled across her face in pale ink, but she hadn't lost her knowledge of those markings along with them.
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"I doubt they have any connection to the Dalish." He takes a breath before beginning. "My first memory is their application. The...pain it caused. They aren't ink. They're lyrium."
He met her eyes. "I have no memory of my life before them, but afterward, I was a Tevinter Magister's bodyguard, his 'little wolf'. He used me to intimidate his rivals. They grant me...abilities."
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Her posture relaxed again. It wasn't red lyrium.
"I..." wait, a Magister had done this? "It wasn't Corypheus, was it?"
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"I know of no Corypheus." He shook his head. "No, his name is Danarius."
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Done to him by a Magister who he'd then played guard to -- there was little doubt he'd been a slave, then. Alleyana didn't need him to state it plainly to get the gist. Still, he should be told--
"The vallaslin of the Dalish started off as slave markings put on us by the Evanuris in ancient times. I doubt it's a coincidence your markings look like a mix of two of them."
No doubt an attempt at making an original pattern out of the old. It made her wonder just what sort of records this Danarius had had access to. Was there proof of the vallaslin's ancient meaning, tucked away somewhere in Tevinter where the southern Chantry hadn't been able to find and destroy it? If so, what else from ancient times was hidden away up there? The ancient Tevinters had taken so much...
Something useful against Solas' plans, perhaps?
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He shook his head, his expression softening. "You owe me no apology, unless you tipped Danarius off to these markings." It was a joke, but far from expertly delivered.
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Alleyana eyed him for a moment, then made a joke-but-not-really-a-joke of her own, her tone as dry as could be. "I get the feeling you won't mind if I extract what I want to know from him forcibly. Even Magisters have nerve centers under their kneecaps."
W h e l p. Look, she highly doubted someone experimenting on slaves was someone she'd regret considering collateral in the fight against Solas. Dorian was sadly the exception up there in Tevinter, not the rule.
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"They have nerve centers in many places, and some of us can find them." He raised a hand, it becoming shimmery, as though it were there but not, all at once. "These markings aren't without their merit, and I'd like nothing more than to turn them upon him."
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"That's because of the lyrium? It looks..." she blinked, taking in the insinuation that he'd find nerve centers in interesting places as a result of this trick. "...Ah. It's not solid, when you don't want it to be?"
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"That's correct." He continued with a nod. "These markings of mine run from head to toe." The implication being none of him is corporeal if he chooses it.
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He frowned at her explanation. "What sort of magic is that?" It isn't as though he's familiar with magic, but he knows what it isn't capable of, at least he's fairly certain he does.
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"No mage did it, he came across on his own. A spirit of Compassion, he was trying to comfort someone as they died and ended up manifesting entirely. Even he doesn't know how it happened, and apparently he spent the first year or two not even remembering he was a spirit. He thought he was the ghost of the boy who'd died."
The Ghost of the Spire.
"We know lyrium still has strong attachments to both sides of the Veil; if it's letting you imitate the reality on the other side, temporarily going incorporeal suddenly doesn't sound that weird, does it? The Fade's quite the bizarre place. I wouldn't be particularly surprised if you could walk up walls and across ceilings, for that matter."
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"True. It's only something I've never heard of." He takes a breath. "I'm not exceptionally experienced with the Fade, nor have I tried to be."
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It hadn't been done to her by some nasty Tevinter slaver, no, but magic had still been shoved under her skin and into her veins by some fuck-ass mage's experimentation with ancient Elvhen power.
And they were both warriors, to boot. Not exactly built for magic, elven heritage aside.
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