bakerstreet | The Other-Wordly Meme

The Other-Wordly Meme

Words are magical things; they can have so many lovely connotations and varied histories.
Words have family trees just like people. They are linked to each other.
Some words are full of flavor and color and describe things you never suspected there were words for.
Words are why we're here.

The meme is simple: post a comment with your muse's name and canon in the subject line.
List any preferences you may have ("No Shipping," "No Smut," etc.), if you decide to leave the next step up to responders.
Responders (or original posters, if they so decide), go to the Other-Wordly blog and hit 'Random' until you get a word. Use the word as a prompt for an RP scenario. Do this several times, if you like. Mix and match. Have fun with it!
Don't stop with a word, though! Words can often have etymologies that are at odds with their current meanings. Words can shift connotations over time. Let your imagination carry you with the words as its wind.

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It was a difficult concept to consider. After he'd left the following morning, and then the night of that day, he'd found his thoughts circling back to the elf he'd met. Fenris. He wasn't sure why he reacted the way he did around him, or why he was drawn to him, as if from the depths of his soul.

Part of him hoped that Fenris didn't notice how lately, several days after their meeting, he'd found himself wandering up into hightown just to consider visiting him. It wasn't like he had the coin to do more than purchase potions when his herbs were running too low to make more.

Already, it felt like some part of him was changing. What was wrong with him to want to so frequently seek out Fenris's company?

Parting was too painful, and one day, he knew that he'd want to leave again.

And he'd wind up leaving Fenris, too.

Why was he letting himself get attached? Why did the idea of spending time at him leave him feeling at ease? He should move on already. Leave, before either of them got hurt for his impulses.

And yet, he found his feet yet again near Fenris's mansion. He'd remembered how he'd had an invitation to drop by from time to time.

Calla peered up at Emil, her head tilted as she seemed to wonder why they were back at the man's home. Again. But why wasn't Emil going inside?

Emil didn't notice, but sighed to himself, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. To knock, or not to knock?

Despite the turmoil coiling in his chest, Emil finally walked up to the doorway and knocked. While he waited, he attempted to put on his usual relaxed expression. Sure, he could put on his helmet, but that would be rude. He didn't want to take a coward's way out of avoiding embarrassment.

Edited 2013-06-10 04:10 (UTC)

Life, and death, and that little something inbetween where Fenris seems to linger. He shouldn't be here. Often he finds himself thinking that he should have died on that alter many nights ago, and he can never decide whether he's grateful or resentful to still be alive. He doesn't want to owe his life to anyone, and yet he is once again trapped by an imperceptible contract, a debt he doesn't know how to repay.

It's difficult to accept for one already slowed down by chains. His life was never truly his and it flees out of his grasp yet again, bringing him even farther from the freedom he seeks. He's spent the last week cursing everything he could, but the truth is, he can't completely bring himself to hate the man who has saved him. It's a second chance nonetheless and the emotions he feels are so conflicting he often dulls his confusion with wine, feet warmed by the fire cracking in the hearth. It's what he's doing now and he hears the knocks on the door, frowning at the flames in lazy annoyance. No one knocks at his door, for it is not his door nor is it his mansion, and he shouldn't be here. But he is, and the visitor doesn't leave and Fenris stands with a groan, stalking to the entrance with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Emil." There's a scowl creasing his face and his lips are still moist from the wine he's drunk, but the surprise isn't there. It's as if he knew and perhaps he did, and he's half-tempted to shut the door in his face. He doesn't, of course. He's invited him to come, after all, and he growls to himself like a bitter old man. "If you have come for the wine, I regret to inform you that there is nothing left."

With that sort of expression on Fenris's face, Emil feels tempted to leave, and his lips briefly press into a thin line. Why linger when it seems that the other elf doesn't want him here at all?

"While it would be nice to have some, I did not come for the drink." And unfortunately, he has none on his hands to share. Perhaps next time.

But he doesn't even know why he's come. Only that he has, and he's at his door, and wanting to come in but still desperately in the mindset that there ought to be a reason. Any reason, no matter how inane, to justify his presence.

There are only blanks in his mind as to what excuse to use. In the end, that's all they are: excuses.

The thought that he is here only to see him, and nothing more, even if not a word more is passed between them, it would be a good visit. The thought alone is enough to make his heart pound, and Maker help him if his senses and way of life are being altered by one simple desire!

It takes everything in him not to make some apology and leave. The truth is still a frightening thing, and lies even more so.

"I... do not know what good it would be, but would you care for my company?" 'Or should I leave?' remains unspoken, but present.

[Care for his company? Yes, and no, but now that he's here, now that he's left the quiet of his room to meet such an eager stare, he doesn't have the heart to turn him down. Emil is tolerable. Perhaps more, if he's honest with himself, but he's a little crocked and his thoughts are all over the place and it's just as well. He considers him for a moment, and then he steps aside, silently encouraging him to walk in.]

Have you caught more apostates, then? Blood mages, perhaps? [Because there has to be a reason for his presence here, other than the sheer desire to visit him.]

"Unfortunately not." Emil gives Fenris a rather grateful look and steps inside, Calla in tow as usual. "I have some leads on blood mages, but I will have to go scouting in the morning for more information and concrete information. Today has been an utter loss."

He cracks a small smile. "I'll let you know once the hunt is on, if you'd like to join me then?" He'd probably send Calla to find him.

[No successful hunt, then. Well. He's fairly confident he could take care of them himself, and then he remembers what happened the last time he tried and ow, the blow to his pride is inevitable. He doesn't say anything, merely letting a gruff sigh huff free as he nods, turning on his heels. The mansion's decor is wretched and disgraceful and he still wonders why Emil's smiling at his invitation; surely there's more to his visit than the urge to count how many corpses Fenris has left on the floor.]

Have you need of anything, then? I can't imagine what you'll find here that you can't find elsewhere. [Forgive his manners; not only is he a little grumpy, he's simply not used to anyone coming for his grouchy antics alone, with or without invitations.]

At the question, Emil makes a thoughtful expression, lips tugging into a small frown. How to answer that without sounding like a creeper?

"...Try to forgive me for speaking so boldly, but it's not what, it's who." A beat. "To tell the truth, I'm a little bewildered as to my own actions."

[It's hard to grasp his mind around this. That anyone could willing come here, in this begrimed version of what this mansion surely once was—merely to see him—leaves him baffled. It's why he stills in his steps, slowly spinning around to meet Emil with a dubious look.]

I'm fine, if you were concerned. [His pride has already been bruised enough as is; he doesn't need to be coddled.] I assure you that I'm quite capable of taking care of myself.

"Please try not to put words in my mouth. I know you can handle yourself."

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. As he opens his mouth to speak, his face turns pink.

"I came here because I wanted to see you. If you must think of an excuse to imply, then anywhere is better than the alienage."

[Oh whoa there; you dare talk back to broody? Fine. Fair enough. Anything is better than the Alienage and that Fenris can understand fairly well. What he doesn't, however, is how he or his mansion can even make for an alternative. Is he touched? Perhaps. Fenris isn't used to this; he's served and he's obeyed and he knows there are ulterior motives to anyone wishing to see him, but Emil barges in and complicates everything with a simple smile.

It catches him off-guard; since when does anyone nurture innocent intentions? He doesn't trust them fully, but he can tell there isn't much else to Emil's presence here than the mere desire to be with him. Small talk, as they call it. Without the kind of purpose he's familiar with. It's a problem, seeing as Fenris is nowhere near what people would call a good conversationalist, but he cracks under the pressure and he knows he's being rude, sighing an exasperated sigh that is both for himself and his visitor.

Ugh, Maker. Why does he even care?] Suit yourself. I've found the company of corpses more comforting than my own kin on many occasions. [Because he likes quiet, and this he knows, this somber solitude, however unhealthy it is for his morale. His features have softened, on the other hand, and if he's not smiling, his glare has given room for a more welcoming stare.] You could choose to live elsewhere. [And with such an option, why remain in the Alienage, of all places?]

Emil nods slightly in agreement.

"I could. However, to bother with such a thing.... I don't even know how long I intend on staying here. I tend to get bored with a single location in a month or so. If I don't have much to begin with, it's... easier to get up and walk away. Besides, I don't have the money for anywhere in hightown, and I'd rather not shack up in somewhere like the Hanged Man or Darktown. I'm.. fickle, anyway."

He offers a faint, wry smile and shifts from one foot to another, glancing towards the floor as Calla gets bored of standing right next to him. The dog wanders over to Fenris and plops down by his feet, peering up at mister broody-pants.

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The Other-Wordly Meme

Fenris || Dragon Age II | OTA

I couldn't pick just one! D:

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aaaaand bracket switch in 3...2...1

:3

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