Second Chance //Fenris & Anders
He knew he probably shouldn’t have agreed to this, but in the end, he was a healer and he couldn’t really help it. He had come in, asking for help with his daughter, who had caught a nasty fever, so Anders had come along, sighing as he walked through the rows of slaves until he reached the little hut the slave trader apparently called his own. If Fenris would see me here he would rip my heart out without a second thought. Fenris... He sighed a little. He wished he had been there, had fought on his side, defeated Danarius with him. But no... the bastard had taken him, and they would likely never see him again. If he even still lived... apparently the Magister hadn’t seemed too happy with how long Fenris had managed to stay free...
He sighed and bent over the bed, soothing the young woman and going to work. It was a nasty fever indeed, but nothing he couldn’t handle. In just a few moments he had healed her up and gave her some potions with instructions to take them over the next week to further heal and strenghten her body.
“You know... I don’t have any coin to pay you yet, but I can’t let you go without payment” the slaver spoke, and Anders just shook his head. He felt nasty and disgusting enough as it was, he didn’t need any money from this slaver on top of it. The man, however, didn’t seem to care that the mage was refusing, and kept chattering on. “You are well known for the work you do down there in your clinic, so here, let me help you out. He’s ugly, and not quite right in the head, or just dumb, but he should be able to learn how to clean sheets and roll bandages and... whatever you need done. And let me tell you, even though he’s so ugly... he makes for an excellent cockwarmer at night, and he never complains either.”
Anders felt sick, and he was about to just walk out of the market without another word, but despite himself he turned around and looked at the slave he was being offered... for menial tasks and... other services. He had dirty brown hair, it seemed. Or... was it only matted blood with something different underneath? Some shimmers of... silvery? The entire guy was a mess, he clearly had been beaten a lot, tortured with techniques Anders did not even want to imagine. There were lines all over his body, white lines, broken up in places as if someone had tried to rip a tattoo out of the skin. He had a handsome face though, at least what little of the face Anders could see through that dirty shock of hair. And it somehow seemed... familiar? It took Anders a few moments before things clicked into places. The lines. Lyrium lines.
