#fenrirtevi

[fenrirtevi-moved]

tag fix

[dalishflame]

The way he acts depending on how deep his feelings for someone go! It's SO thrilling to watch him fester from this confident, suave and devious man, to when feelings come into play, he's flustered, bashful, showing a very sweet and very vulnerable side to him that isn't often seen. - [Fenrirtevi]

What's a minor quirk or quality about my character you like?

Cutting through Atreion’s Bullshit 101: Make him have feelings.

[fulluponcrazy]

❥

Has someone ever ruined an FC or character for you?

I don’t really like seeing Misha Collins as an FC anymore; long story. And I’m pretty sure the only reason MCU Loki wasn’t entirely ruined for me was because I knew (and was shipping with) a quite good Loki at the same time as another Loki basically kicked me to the curb.

[dalishflame]

continued from here

Fenris wasn’t sure why he wanted to do this, to hurt– to kill Atreion, but it was all that corrupted his thoughts since he was found and returned. He was injured, but it didn’t seem to matter. What mattered was killing the Inquisitor and bringing an end to the Inquisition. It made no sense why, but the desire to see this realized was so strong, and he felt so weakened to fight against reason.

Fenris’ body began to glow as the lyrium burned into his flesh activated. His flesh began to ghost - there without actually being there just as the gaze in his eyes was as he stared Atreion down.

“I must do this.” His free hand pulled itself back like a snake getting ready to strike, the claws of the gauntlet’s extending like bared teeth. This was wrong. This wasn’t right, but he felt so compelled–

@fenrirtevi

He should have known something was wrong from the start. Since the day they had pulled him from hs captors' grasp something had seemed… off. Atreion had put it from his mind, called it his usual useless fretting, but he had no idea how horribly wrong he was. He never should have agreed to be alone with him, never let his guard down… and now here he was, struggling at the warrior’s mercy. He had no weapons. No staff. Nothing strong enough to channel his magic into something that might save him. Because, Creators help him, this was not just some petty fight. Part of him had known it the moment Fenris locked the door behind him. He’d been certain of it when he saw those horrible claws begin to glow.

He was going to die. Heart torn out on the stones of Skyhold, Atreion was going to die. Here and now, helpless and alone, with the man he’d dared to— to care for staring at him like he was nothing. Like he was something Fenris wanted rid of.

“ Fenris— Listen to me, it’s me, you know me—- ”

No. He kicked out, clawed at the hand holding him, but his fingers passed uselessly through the lyrium ghost without so much as a scratch. Panic clutched at his throat, his blood turning cold even as his voice rose in useless shouts – none of which would be heeded in time. No, no, not like this.

“ You mustn’t— Fenris, listen, please, you don’t have to—- ”

 Mythal, please, not like this…

“ LET ME GO! ”

The Anchor went off with the force of a small bomb, turning Atreion’s entire world into a searing mass of green. There was a moment where everything felt weightless, like he was the ghost and not Fenris, and then the pressure on his hair was gone and he was flying. He hit the wall hard, swore he felt his ribs crack, tumbling to the ground in a great crash of old furniture and shattered glass. He could hear nothing but ringing in his ears, near-blinded by his stolen magic and hurting everywhere that could hurt, but he lived. For now.

[whitecrowrising-blog]

@fenrirtevi

“Is that the best that the little wolf can do? I k n o w you can do better.” Azazel taunted - always taunting. It wasn’t much effort to ignore it and go about sparring, but the egging on was particular annoying today. Was it that smug smirk? Or that smug sense of superiority he had long before the title of Inquisitor was bestowed upon him?

Whatever it was, Fenris could feel his blood beginning to boil and his temper he kept on a reasonable leash start to tug at it’s restraints.

Blocked. Blocked. And blocked again, dagger holding his sword back with that smug faces inches from him.

“Problem, little wolf?”

Fenris was not a hand to hand fighter by any means, but there comes a time one must step outside of their comfort zone. The sword was gripped with one hand then with some struggle, and the other?

The other collided with Azazel’s cheek.

Perhaps he talked too much, no. He was certain he talked too much. But people grew reckless whilst getting irritated. They grew reckless as anger boiled underneath their skin, reaching the surface. They grew reckless and bold. And they were quicker to make mistakes. It had saved him more often then not. Ensured he was the one standing in the end. Because what could one p o s s i b l y tell him that would annoy him?

He had nothing to lose.

Aside that... He wished to see the elf before him well. He had funny ways of showing it, but he truly did. So they often sparred. He taunted. Of course he did. He saw how far he could go until the first mistake would be made. He wanted the other to l e a r n from it. So if anyone tried to taunt him, well... They wouldn’t be very successful.

Granted, it could be a bit risky too but.. What was life without a bit of risk?

And as his daggers moved up to stop the blade from crashing down, he could not help the smug smirk upon his face, the words were out before he knew it. And then came the stinging pain of the other’s fist against his face. He did not take long to lingering in it, moving aside to let the blade drop before finally going for a kick to sweep the other off his feet in a sense.

“ Good! Creative thinking, I like that! It can prove useful in the future! ”

[dalishflame]

​continued from here

Fenris’ looked nothing short of amused, watching the mage bounce and skip around grabbing whatever was in front of him. Had it been three weeks? Fenris hadn’t noticed. If he wasn’t on the move, he liked staying where it was warm, and that happened to be in Skyhold. Of course, the choice to stay or leave was his alone, unlike the Inquisitor’s.

He grabbed his pack, tossing it over his shoulder and pulled his sword from against the wall, much more calm and collected despite the grin on his lips. “Silly me. Of course I can’t speak and get ready at the same time~”

@fenrirtevi

Creators, he couldn’t wait. Give him danger; give him deadly beasts and mortal combat; anything but the drudgery of the last month. For all its warmth and luxury, Skyhold felt like a chokehold, a leash around his neck that kept him away from the air, the earth, the blood and magic that was life on the road. He grumbled so when his feet blistered and his wounds ached, but never did it chafe like the life of a political figure. They were real hurts, honest hurts, not the silent knives and false smiles of his dual life -- and he needed to feel real right now.

“ Well, you’re not doing it fast enough! ” He scrunched his nose up like a child, already bounding out the door before Fenris’s pack was even on his back, chattering ten to the dozen. “ Mor’Syl is saddled and ready and the snow on the passes has stopped - perfect weather for an ambush, but Leliana failed to mention whose. I don’t plan it to be theirs, I’ll tell you that much. Oh, it’ll be such fun to knock some heads again! I just couldn’t bring myself to send scouts for this, I just couldn’t! ”

[scorchedcreed]

“May I question why in the hell I’m being used as bait?”

@fenrirtevi