#fenumin

[sezja]

If I didn't want a badass lady Arcadion fighter who uses a morbol feral soul in the heavyweight tier so bad, I'd be developing an Arcadion AU for Fenumin

[fanficsbyjay]

Contemplations

Fandom: Dragon Age Rating: T? sex mention but nothing graphic Ship: Dacien/random oc, Dacien/Halan hinting Summary: Dacien contemplates some of his life decisions pt 2

Dacien slips from the aravel as discreetly as possible, rolling his shoulders and stretching as his feet touch the ground. He intends to go find Halan, or perhaps go to his own aravel for a nap and let Halan find him later as his injuries are minor and mostly just sore muscles, but his feet take him in neither direction, instead finding himself sat on a crate some distance between his two destinations.

He kicks his feet to feel and hear the soft thud of his heels as they swing back against the crate and he stares at his hands in his lap. What was he doing? The entire clan knew he was following Fenumin’s footsteps and sleeping his way through anyone willing. And likely everyone knew that it was almost a direct result to Fenumin settling down. So what was he doing? Was he trying to find himself in others’ beds? Or was he trying to lose himself?

He hadn’t stopped to think about it, hadn’t thought the first time he propositioned someone, nor any of the times he was naked for anyone. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to think about how Fenumin had used him, wakened a need he didn’t know he had and then left him. Didn’t want to think about how he knew it was going to happen and never braced for it. Didn’t want to think about any repercussions of his own actions. And wasn’t that the very definition of losing himself in others?

But was he going to stop? The very thought left him feeling as empty as he did the moment he knew Fenumin would never again pin him to his lap, no longer kiss him fiercely and tell him how he wasn’t anything but a go to in between fucks. That he wasn’t more than someone to kiss to take the edge off. Sleeping with others never made him feel complete the way part of him did held tight and kissed hard by someone he knew didn’t care about him.

Was that the problem then? Did he need to find someone who wanted nothing more than sex from him? Someone who would kick him out and disregard him when they were done? Was there even anyone in the clan capable of such? Was that even what he truly wanted?

Dacien catches his gaze drifting to Halan, speaking with Sulahn. Halan, who had been his friend ever since he could remember, Halan who was the First for the clan and would be Keeper after Sulahn. If he wanted someone who didn’t care, then why was he always drawn to Halan who obviously cared deeply for him?

Frustrated, Dacien aggressively rubs his hands over his face. He didn’t feel used when he left any of his bedmates the same way he always did when Fenumin had been finished with him. Likely because he was the one doing the pursuit, always the one doing the propositions, always the one who left once done, never truly kicked out. And a part of him he could feel craving that same sensation, craving someone to come to him, to use him, not simply to offer himself up like a sacrifice to anyone willing to take him. But also another part of him was drawn to Halan’s gentleness, their care. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

With a sigh, he slides off the crate and deciding he was done thinking about this for the moment, instead continuing to Halan’s aravel for a nap, not wanting to interrupt them and Sulahn, but wanting them to know he was done should they wish to look him over for bruises or other injuries they deemed in need of healing. It would hardly be the first time he slept in their bed.

[deathsreflection]

Fly on the wall: Mi'Enasalin on Dacien

Send ‘fly on the wall’ for a Drabble of my muse talking to someone else about your muse

The assassin stretches in satisfaction, lithe muscles still gleaming with sweat; at his side, Fenumin is already sweeping his long red hair back into its tight knot atop his head, already recovered from their rough play as though it had never happened, only the bruises and bite marks remaining. As always. Mi’Enasalin eyes his lover’s slender back in silent disdain; the day will come when he shatters Fenumin’s icy control, when he leaves him in fragments in truth, when he refuses to restrain himself for Fenumin’s pleasure -“I would very nearly bet you,” the assassin murmurs, lowering his stretched arms to settle his hands - strong enough to snap your neck if I so chose, sweetling - on Fenumin’s narrow shoulders. “-that Dacien would not be half so composed once I finished with him.”It earns him half a glance over one shoulder, before Fenumin shrugs his hands away. “It seems to be of no consequence, agent.”“No?” He grins, leaning back against the pillows, smiling at the canopy overhead. “A man well-versed in receiving pain as pleasure, a plaything of the gods themselves? What I could do with such a creature...” Fenumin does not respond, and Mi’Enasalin frowns. “You might at least be jealous.”“I might,” Fenumin agrees - but his voice, dry and airy, says otherwise. “But jealousy is ill-spent on a toy you cannot play with, no matter how fine his craftsmanship may be.” He rises from the bed, retrieves his robe, and leaves Mi’Enasalin to fume in his wake.

[sezja]

Ill-suited for snowy weather.

[sezja]

I was asked for screencaps of Fenumin in his new getup and ya girl does provide

[sezja]

I have a Fenumin alt, which is hilarious, because Fenumin can't fight. He's a fragile wilting flower. His entire approach to self-defense is basically "I'm just a little guy. You wouldn't hit a little guy, would you?"

And also poison.

[sezja]

Fenumin Inahwen likes: Poisons, botany, a good book, quality alone time, alchemy

Fenumin Inahwen dislikes: Pretty much everything at some point Snow

[deathsreflection]

Dacien had been watching Fenumin work. It was unlikely he would ever need to know how to make or use poisons of his own, but knowing how intrigued him. "Do you have any favorites?" He asks. "Which, and why?" He clarifies, knowing full well that without the latter he would likely get little more than a syllable or two in answer and he wanted to know more than that.

It is hardly rare that Fenumin has an audience while he works; the infrequency with which he is actually present at the enclave makes him a subject of no little intrigue among his fellow poison-crafters. On a typical day, assuming Mi’Enasalin has not staked a monopoly on his time - per usual - he may have two, three, perhaps as many as ten eager young assassins and apprentices hovering around his table. He seldom minds. Eager eyes come attached to eager hands, and the younger generation are all so terribly eager to fetch whatever catalysts or extracts he may require.But then there is Dacien, something of an oddity.Neither a trainee nor an assassin himself, Dacien has hardly any practical cause to be here; true, his missions may on occasion call for poison, but he has no need to know what that poison is, nor how it was crafted. Yet here he is, the curious creature - Dirthamen’s plaything, Mi’Enasalin’s daydream. Perhaps, being a disciple of Dirthamen, seeking knowledge simply runs in his blood. The reason, Fenumin decides, is irrelevant. “I do, agent,” he replies, sparing Dacien a half-attentive glance as he continues adding heat to the distillation assembly arrayed before him. “Felandaris is both deadly and versatile, and is an ingredient in all but the most basic of poisons intended to kill both swiftly and painfully - yet because it is steeped in the power of the Fade, it may also be used in potions intended to strengthen spellcasting.” He gestures, and without moving from his spot, summons a twisting branch of the peculiar plant from a nearby supply cabinet. Allowing the branch to rest suspended in midair between them, Fenumin gestures toward it. “Observe: it appears to move even when harvested and left to dry. This, botanists believe, is the lasting effect of the Fade on the plant; I have often wondered if it means plants dream, if indeed the Fade may have so striking an impact.”The branch remains floating, but Fenumin casts another spell, summoning this time a black vial, gleaming like bottled ink. “This,” he says, almost proudly, “Is my personal favorite Felandaris derivative, a concoction of my own devising. Where most poisons meant for weapon application will corrode the metal if unremoved, or will lose potency rapidly upon being exposed to the elements, this eliminates both problems. I have found it to be very popular among our Keeper’s assassins as a safety measure.” And a favorite of Mi’Enasalin’s, but Dacien hardly needs to know that.“A single coat on a blade or arrowhead will cause severe pain at the site of the injury,” Fenumin continues, removing the stopper of the vial and tipping it to allow Dacien to see how thick the liquid within is. “Two coats will cause paralysis - potentially permanent, depending on the location of the injury, and possibly blindness. Three coats,” he concludes, returning the stopper. “Is death, guaranteed, within moments of the toxin entering the bloodstream.”He returns the vial to the supply cabinet, to be claimed by some assassin or other in the days to come, then returns his attention to Dacien. “I trust this has been enlightening?”