the night is late, and the fugitive elf has switched to water, murky and dark in the bottom of his mug. the others have filtered out of the hanged man either alone or together, leaving bethany and fenris to lapse into thick silence.
“how do they treat you in there, @mageforged?” fenris' voice is low, almost ashamed to ask —– in the back of his mind he knows the painful answer.











