PARADISA LOST

[Fenris is not impressed by his first experience of Earth. There are carts that move around without horses, it's noisy and bright and MODERN. Being made human, well, that's more an annoyance than anything. Unlike Merrill, he has no deep-seated pride in being an elf. Besides, the endless ache of the lyrium is gone. For the time.

Still, he wouldn't be Fenris if he wasn't perpetually annoyed at something]

There is a country in my world called Oralis. This...Paris reminds me of that place. Full of people who are more interested in fashion and social ladders, gossip and fine food than the real problems in the world. This is a place of ignorant indulgence, and I refuse to play into the game Paradisa is currently playing.

[Then, after a considerable pause, because having them is still a hard concept to grasp;]

( Friends )

[Fenris hadn't really noticed that much of a different in himself after the meteor shower. Well, aside from the fact his usual level of unending hatred and murderous rage had been tamed to a somewhat less violent mood. But he hadn't thought much on it. No. He'd had to plan. It had taken waiting for the mage to leave his room, and bribing Isabela (who is a far better thief than him) but it had gone off without a hitch.

And so, sitting in his room, with Captain Blackpurrder sitting in his lap, he does something he would never do in his right mind. He pens a note in the journal]



[ Illiteracy is a terrible thing. As if to prove that he does, indeed, have Anders' cat, there's a pitiful meow over the journals.

WHAT NOW, ANDERS? That's what you get for...

Existing]

[Fenris is sitting outside of his room, looking distinctly unsettled. That's because it turns out, his own mind is not a fun place to visit. No big surprise there.

Veins of Lyrium cover the walls, glowing faintly and singing a sirens call to any who possess magic in their blood. If a magic weilder were to touch the veins, they would find their power significantly boosted, like touching a battery for magic. They should exercise caution, however. Lyrium is both addictive and in long doses deadly. Not that Fenris would tell any unwitting mage that.

The rest of the room echoes the Roman Empire, or in Fenris' case, the Tevinter Imperium. Huge stone columns hold up the ceiling, with sand and stone underfoot. On occasion, one might trip over a chain or two. Some parts of the room fade into pure white, of complete nothingness. As if something were torn out of there, which, in fact, it has been.

And walking through all of this, like a proud owner of someone else's personal nightmare is an old but deadly man. You probably don't want to speak to him.

Fenris gives the journal a glare, as if it's the cause of all his misery]

Does this place give us no peace? Has it not tortured enough in the past few weeks?

[[ooc:Backdated to friday, open or journal]]

[Fenris has been wandering the grounds of the castle today, much like a tiger would pace the boundaries of its cage. Testing the extent of his loss, how far he could go, how long he could be away before the castle inevitably dragged him back into that accursed lobby. At least out here, he could enjoy a scant hour or so of peace and quiet before the horrible, tugging and NEW need to talk to others started niggling at him.

It was on this walk that he's come upon the cemetery. He wanders through it, unable to properly read all the words upon the stones, but recognising it for what it is regardless. Humans may not bury their dead in Thedas, but elves most certainly do. He crouches down by one to feel the earth, before opening his journal, grimacing a little to even have to speak into it. He'd never get used to that]

I have been told that death here is not permanent. In two weeks, the dead return as if nothing had happened at all. If that is so, why is there a graveyard here? That suggests people remain dead, does it not?

...Unless you are prone to burying people alive. Which I would not put past some of you.

[Fenris is in his usual brooding spot in the lobby, leaning against a wall, sharpening the spikes on his gauntlets (that spikey armour didn't get spikey all by itself, you know). His journal is open, largely discarded to one side. He hates using the thing, but when you have to talk to people, well, it's at least useful for that. He's still avoiding touching the damned thing as much as he can, though]

So, after all that madness, things go back to how they were before? It has been a mere few days, and already it is as if the entire thing was nothing but a dream. Is this normal amongst people here? [Because seriously guys, there were pirate ships and a freaking OCEAN] Or is it that the castle being plundered has distracted you?

Anyway, to those who were made to fight against us due to the castle's influence, take heart that actions preformed under duress are sins on the one who ordered it, not the one whose hands carried out the deed. [Awkward pause, because he's the worst comforter in the world, and all he's done is repeat what Sebastian said to him. But still, this is a subject close to his heart, he felt he needed to say something] That is what someone once told me, anyway.

This is not the case, however, for whoever decided to betray us. Be aware not all of us are so quick to forgive and forget deeds done in your own mind. There will be retribution.