Exhausted but fuelled by disbelief and worry, Dorian struggled to process their arrival in this place even hours after their brusque introduction to a delightfully willful and witty woman calling herself Lyra. Thankful for her hospitality though off-put by her admittance that she had known of their arrival through the means of a device Dorian had never heard of, the mage had too many conflicting feelings regarding their tumbling through what was apparently a portal to another universe, if Lyra was to be believed. All things considered, Dorian was thankful it hadn’t been another portal to the Fade, the memories of that unfortunate trip still haunting Dorian in subtle ways.
There were no demons here, no whispering creatures seeking to tempt him to surrender to their power through blood magic. Corypheus was gone and his puppets defeated, the betrayer torn asunder, and Dorian had made the fatal mistake of believing that he had Fenris could have had a moment to breathe and bask in each other’s company with no great evil or threat looming over them. A foolish wish, it would seem.
“It would be better to share all those thoughts,” a soft, gentle voice spoke at his ear as the coiled beast around his arm tightened ever so slightly in a soothing but strange gesture. Lene, she had called herself when they had met though Dorian had felt the connection right from the start. He regarded her now, almost a little upset that she was airing out his concern when he had fully intended on swallowing it all for at least a little while longer. “You don’t want to keep them a secret.” Of course she was right but the mage did not want to admit it. Draping herself over his shoulders, Lene seemed to sigh as if it were possible for a viper to do such a thing. “Stop being so stubborn,” she hissed, though her tone was still kind.
Ignoring her suggestion, Dorian dragged a hand through his hair as she slithered off his shoulders and willfully over to where Fenris was. The moment she touched him, a new sensation filled Dorian up, like his very soul was being caressed and he turned, heart racing and cheeks flushed to see Lene now wrapped around Fenris’s arm, whispering something to him he could barely hear, though he could make out “-before he locks up in fear.” Betrayed by this delicate and unguarded representation of his soul.
Dorian crossed the room to where his husband was standing, fingers reaching up to push hair away from his forehead. “She is being dramatic,” he accused and she only rolled her knowing reptilian eyes before dropping heavily to the floor and finding a new perch. “However… I am worried.” The mage’s word choice was calculated, attempting to mask how deep that anxiety ran, how fearful he was for their safety. When he spoke next, some of that fear leaked into his voice, his eyes looking Fenris up and down. “How do you feel?”
Perhaps Fenris should have been surprised by all this, but he couldn't really summon that feeling, try as he might. Too much had happened to him in only a little more than a year for something like interdimensional travel to shake him. Maybe that said something about his psyche. But then, he'd woken up with parts of the Veil suffused into his hand, turning his markings a pale, ghostly green, and people had claimed him touched by divinity. This was a strange situation they found themselves in, but few things were stranger than that. Fenris could, however, feel the concern radiating from his husband. He would have gone to him sooner if Dorian hadn't been sharing what seemed like an intimate moment with his new companion (daemons, he thought, curious despite his natural wariness).
So he hung back to allow them a bit of privacy, uncertain about his welcome and whether he would intrude, instead trying to focus his attention on the map Lyra provided them and memorizing the layout of the city. It spread out across the table in their dining room, unfamiliar markings and territory lines criss-crossing across the parchment in a dizzying network of streets. Almost like home, Fenris thought, distinctly reminded of Minrathous. "This isn't the Inquisition, you know," Delphi pointed out from where she was perched on his shoulder. "You don't need to make another war table." Fenris shrugged a little and felt her shift a bit to accommodate. Her slight weight was rather comforting—as if he'd been waiting to meet her all his life. This would take some getting used to.
He wasn't expecting Lene to slither her way up his arm, and he held very still, waiting for her to settle before she provided much-needed insight into Dorian's emotional state. It wasn't that Fenris didn't know—he had an idea, as he usually did, but this was all the permission he needed to act on it. "Thank you," he murmured to her, heartfelt. It didn't escape Fenris' notice that Lene was choosing to share this vulnerability with him. He didn't know much about this daemon business, but he could tell this was important, just as every little confession from Dorian had always been important. These were pieces of his heart he shared with no one else, and Fenris wouldn't dare abuse that trust.
"As am I," Fenris admitted when his husband said he was worried. The elf leaned into that touch to his hair and looped his arms around Dorian's waist, dragging him closer. Delphi was forced to take flight with a muttered, "Finally," and his mouth quirked upward a bit. The commentary was strange, but not unwelcome. Somewhere further in the room, his daemon began to rearrange pillows and a blanket on an armchair, as if to fashion a nest. He knew, somehow, her efforts were for Lene, and that warmed something in his chest.
But Fenris was focused on Dorian now. He gently nudged his husband's chin with his nose, an affectionate little gesture Fenris was often fond of expressing. "Look at me," he murmured, then waited for those stormy eyes to settle on him. "I am well because you are here. I don't think I would be nearly as calm if you weren't." The elf's hand gently petted Dorian's spine in a rhythmic, soothing motion. "We are together," he said in Tevene, low and soft, just for his mage.
The mage was frustrated at the lack of control he seemed to have more than anything else. Nothing should have been able to surprise him, not after all he had witnessed as a part of the Inquisition, and yet here he was, with all his beliefs in question once more. Another hole in the sky, another portal to… somewhere. It wasn’t a desolate future or a horrific nightmare and that was the only solace Dorian had to hold onto, aside from the very obvious fact that he had been lucky enough to tumble through that gateway with the only person in any world capable of calming his weary mind.
Still, Dorian had paced the rooms they were given with his nose in one of the many books Lyra had been generous enough to allow him to borrow, attempting to turn the energy of his racing thoughts toward a more productive goal. As much as he’d longed for distraction in the form of Fenris’s embrace, his desire for answers kept him turning page after page in the quest for a solution to a problem he couldn’t even define, all this time with a daemon to keep him company. The irony of the name wasn’t lost on the mage, though it was clear to him that she wasn’t a spirit, corrupted or otherwise and that was enough to calm him.
Unlike her other half, Lene was far more unguarded and unashamed, almost childlike in her ability to ask for exactly what she wanted unlike Dorian, who typically disguised his desires in obtuse, borderline poetic dismissals. Dorian had wanted nothing more than for Fenris to come pull the book from his hands and tell him that they were going to be alright. Lene explicitly asked for it.
While Dorian felt entirely undermined by her actions, he couldn’t be upset with them. Not when his husband’s arms were around his waist, pulling him closer as the gorgeous hawk perched on his shoulder soared off to busy herself with something in one of the armchairs. Lene, without any hesitation, slithered her way into the makeshift nest, fully intending to cozy up to the raptor once she settled down.
Dorian watched the display and forgot for a tick to be near-panicked. It returned with an unmatched fervor and shook him to his core. “You were supposed to tell me that I was being unreasonable,” Dorian joked with a tight voice and a faltering smile. Running his fingers through Fenris’s hair, he explicitly avoided eye contact, knowing that his husband would be able to read him completely if he didn’t.
Ah, but that gentle request was more than enough to break his resolve and Dorian obliged. “Well you can’t expect to go out and have all the fun, can you?” His smile was more steady, the mage finding strength in those green eyes he knew best and comfort in the hands on his back. “I can only imagine the commotion you would have caused were I not here,” he teased, leaning in close enough that their noses touched. “As we will always be.” Dorian’s answer was confident because nothing would ever be able to separate them. Of that he was entirely certain.
"That would be a lie," Fenris said softly, relaxing at the fingers in his hair. It helped, too, that he could sense their daemons settling into their makeshift nest. "Your concerns are justified. Perhaps we're not dealing with rifts, but these ... ‘windows’ could prove just as dangerous." He turned his hand to press a gentle kiss to the center of Dorian's palm, still gazing at him all the while. "You will be brilliant, and find a way to help Lyra, as you always do. But you must give it time." His husband put an inordinate amount of pressure on himself to unravel complex, centuries-old mysteries in only a matter of weeks. It was utterly incredible and inspiring—except it also worried Fenris, and it seemed to be worrying his daemon as well.
Daemon. The elf tried not to think too much on that word. It made him wary, and they couldn't afford to outright reject their present companions when they had so few allies in this new place to begin with. Not with all the evidence before them: like how Delphi seemed to know precisely what Fenris was thinking, and had, on more than one occasion, plucked something Dorian had been reaching for in her talons to deposit it into his hand.
A low, warm chuckle escaped Fenris when the mage claimed his arrival would have gone very differently without Dorian. "Are you saying I'm not diplomatic?" He wondered aloud, clearly teasing in return. It was good to see his husband smiling again, if only a little. The touch of their noses brushing together made Fenris release a shaky sigh, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the closeness. He would always draw strength from Dorian, and the absolute certainty he felt in their relationship. There were few things that remained constant in Fenris' life, and this was, thankfully, one of them. "Talk to me," the elf murmured, leaning back a little to seek out the mage's eyes again. "I would hear all your concerns. They are important to me." And it would, hopefully, ease some of the burdens Dorian always seemed to take on.
Hopefully being the key word. Behind them, Delphi had settled and puffed her feathers up to provide a warm little cocoon for Lene.
So many sensations were bombarding Dorian, mixing with the emotions swirling inside of him like a tempest, but so many of them were soothing and they were tearing down the tower of anxiety the mage had started bricking himself into. Fenris easing into his touch, the feeling of their daemons settling against each other; they helped eased the tension knotting Dorian’s muscles. “A little white lie wouldn’t have hurt anyone,” he murmured softly with the ghost of smile on his face. The mention of the gateways brought back some of that worry, weaving inside of him and rooting itself again. “Our host seemed to believe they were.” Lyra had been vague, but Dorian was certain there was more than she initially told them. His offer to assist her in her research had been immediate and she had seemed surprised and reluctant though grateful for the offer. For his own part, Dorian never could sit idle when there was a conflict he could research, a problem he could solve. The kiss to his palm drew him out of his thoughts and Dorian pressed closer to Fenris. “What if we don’t have time?”
There was the heart of all of his fear. Time. How much they had. Dorian had never heard of Dust and he worried about how it could interact with his own connection to the Fade, or Fenris’s through the anchor. There were too many variables, too many unknowns, and in the face of them, Dorian felt impossibly small and infinitely helpless.
His spiralling descent into near-panic caused Lene to stir, lifting her head from where it had been nuzzled in Delphi’s soft feathers. “Dorian,” she chided, saying no more but he fully understood the undercurrent of her tone.
Dorian hated feeling powerless, especially when that powerlessness extended to this important person who meant everything in the entire world to him. Instead of lingering on that feeling and earning the disapproval of his daemon, Dorian slid his arms around Fenris’s shoulders, nosing along his husband’s jaw and just taking a moment to ground himself in his presence. Fenris was the only thing able to draw him back from the edge and he focused on that.
Laughing at his husband’s reply, he kissed his temple before pulling back. “It depends on how we are defining the word but in the generally accepted definition of it, no, my darling.” Dorian could always draw strength from this bond they had too, seeking it out in times of distress and he took solace in that Fenris felt the same.
“I’m worried about these gateways,” Dorian admitted, holding Fenris tighter as he spoke. “What they could do to us. To you.”
"I would never lie to you," Fenris said immediately. From her makeshift nest, Delphi made a noncommittal noise, and he grumbled a little in response. This would take a great deal of adjustment, having someone else who knew him better than he knew himself—someone who was rather vocal. "What I mean is: I have always found your concerns to be valid. Not once did they seem overblown to me, and quite frankly, your intuition has yet to steer us wrong."
Delphi made an agreeing noise, shifting her wings a bit so that she was sheltering Lene better. "He's right," she said.
"You just put too much pressure on yourself sometimes."
"You both do."
"Did I ask for commentary?"
"I don't need permission."
Fenris sighed, and focused instead on the way Dorian seemed to be withdrawing into himself. He murmured soft reassurances, and pressed gentle kisses to his forehead, continuing to rub his back until Lene finally seemed to break through whatever shadows had clung to him. It hurt so much to see him like this, but Fenris knew trauma well. He wouldn't leave Dorian's side. Whatever it took to get them through this, he would be there.
The moment his husband began to relax into his embrace, Fenris instinctively eased back on his heels, encouraging the mage to lean more of his weight on him. He'd done this for as long as they'd been together, offering his physical strength to Dorian when he seemed as though he could use a place to truly let go. And maybe the elf smiled a little bit when he felt that soft nuzzling, to which he nuzzled back. He loved him so much. Fenris continued to smile when Dorian drew back to sass him. "Harsh words," he teased, leaning up to kiss the mage's cheek. In truth, he knew he could be a little ... uncompromising, but he'd gotten better at accepting different opinions and hearing other concerns. Usually.
His smile faded when Dorian shared what he was feeling, but an idea had taken root in his mind. "Would it help if you monitored the anchor?" They hadn't exactly had time for that back home, what with all their responsibilities and concerns involving the Inquisition. But here—Fenris flexed his fingers a little, feeling that old, familiar ache, the one he'd endured simply out of necessity. "Every day, if you like. I'll answer your questions truthfully." It was a big step for him. He so rarely complained about any kind of pain, but if it would help ease some of Dorian's concerns ... he would learn how.
Amused despite himself, Dorian chuckled at the noise Delphi made, the mage just a little thankful he wasn’t the only one being contradicted by his daemon. He ran his fingertips along the shell of Fenris’s ear in apology though a small smile still played on his lips. “I know you wouldn’t,” he answered at length, knowing that Fenris didn’t lie to him. Stubbornly withheld some things sometimes, perhaps, but never an outright lie as far as Dorian ever knew. “That intuition is a curse,” Dorian mused, sighing softly. “Though I can’t tell if it’s intuition or terror shouting at me at the moment. They are remarkably similar sometimes.” There was a touch of humor in his tone but his voice was taut, betraying the fear he had attempted to play off with that statement.
Just as Lene felt warmed by the wing draping over her, Dorian did too and it was an altogether unique sensation, like his very soul being held in warm hands, and he wondered if it felt the same for Fenris. All through their relationship, even back when it had been desperate pining in the guise of simply friendship, Dorian had felt as if Fenris could see right to his spirit, that he could touch it and now that felt so literal and it was amazing.
Again, Dorian allowed himself the lightness of laughter at the bickering between his husband and his daemon, only to be mildly sobered by his own. “Don’t forget she was talking about you too,” she interjected, soft as a sigh but words pointed and direct. The mage only offered her a look of resigned understanding which she returned with a motherly sort of compassion in hers.
Losing himself in the gentle, soothing sound of Fenris’s voice and the feeling of his hands on his back, Dorian focused on breathing and on his husband, trying to keep himself from drowning. He was afraid, but he wasn’t alone. As long as they were together, he would be strong enough to face whatever dangers and trials came his way.
Without realizing how exhausted he was, Dorian fell into Fenris, trusting his husband to support him and let so much tension release from his muscles. Dorian didn’t have the vocabulary to fully say how much he loved Fenris, but every day, with each word he spoke and every touch he gave, he tried to come close and now was no different. “Perhaps, but not untrue.” Dorian couldn’t help the smile on his face, uplifted by the one on Fenris’s. Leaning in to steal a kiss proper, Dorian lingered there for a moment, savoring it. “Though you have gotten better,” he added as he pulled back.
Dorian’s eyes were drawn to Fenris’s left hand as he spoke of monitoring it, and the gentle stretch prompted him to lace their fingers together, squeezing softly. “That may help. Even just to counter my nerves.”
Predictably, Fenris' eyes fluttered closed when Dorian touched his ear. They'd always been sensitive, and he knew his husband was very, very aware of that fact, but he didn't mind. His permission was always freely given to Dorian. Even when they first met, he found himself inexplicably drawn to him, comforted by his presence unlike anyone he'd ever met. So it was admittedly a struggle, momentarily, not to completely let his guard down and lean into that touch, but Fenris managed. "They can be. I hope, if nothing else, I might provide some insight into whether or not you are being unreasonable. And right now," Fenris said, voice warm and low, nothing but steady, "I assure you, you are not."
Of course, he didn't expect the issue to be solved now—or any time soon, even. And that was perfectly fine. He just hoped he could provide some comfort, however temporary, because quite frankly, Fenris had no idea how to even begin approaching this situation. He only knew he wanted to be there for Dorian while he attempted to unravel it all. Because he would, inevitably, end up doing that.
Fenris grumbled a bit, though, when Dorian agreed with Delphi, who puffed up again with pride. "She won't let me forget," the elf muttered, and his daemon chuckled behind them. He wasn't sure how he knew Delphi would push the issue, but he did. Stranger and stranger.
It was an easy thing to bear the mage's weight. Fenris did so gladly, smiling softly when their eyes met. "I'm glad you think I've improved," he replied dryly, clearly teasing if his sly little smirk was any indication. Even though their humor was brief, he treasured it as he treasured the kiss Dorian bestowed him. It meant not everything was strange and unfamiliar. Dorian wasn't. He drew the mage's hand up to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, just a gentle, reaffirming gesture. "As you wish." Fenris' eyes were very, very bright when he looked upon Dorian now, as if he might be able to convey the depths of his feelings for him with only a look. But just in case, "I love you," was murmured between them. He would never tire of saying that.
Smiling, Dorian was indeed very aware of how sensitive Fenris’s ears were and so he restrained himself from touching them half as often as he wanted, reaching out only when they were alone. His husband’s reaction to his touch always sent a wave of heat through him, but Dorian was aware in this moment Fenris seemed determined not to let the mage distract from their conversation with it, much to his chagrin. Now, as always, Fenris knew him better than Dorian knew himself. “Perhaps just a little unreasonable,” he responded with an apologetic but amused smirk. He traced the line of Fenris’s ear one more time before letting his hand fall away.
Not having the answers to something had always frustrated Dorian, and he could feel that panicked insistence to know, to solve everything burning holes in his chest already. Dorian never allowed himself the luxury of a moment to breathe, for better or worse, throwing himself at every problem and exhausting himself to find the answer. This time, however, the mage didn’t even know where to begin and that was the most daunting of all. Fenris’s presence soothed him though, calming the tempest inside of him in a way only he could and Dorian exhaled softly and leaned into him a little more.
“I don’t believe Lene intends to do that either.” Without looking at her where she was nestled against Delphi, the mage could feel her eyes on him. In his chest, he knew she would never hesitate to chide him or gently attempt to shake him free from his more troubling habits. As if she had heard his train of thought, Lene made a soft noise of affirmation.
Despite all the uncertainty clinging to him, there was none here between himself and Fenris. As always, his husband was a steady constant and a support the mage leaned on completely. “Quite a great deal, in fact.” Humor was still in his tone as he continued. “Here you are, with me. I would say that is something of an improvement.” The kiss to his hand melted away more of the worry trying to pull Dorian down and he pressed closer to Fenris, drowning happily in the brightness in his husband’s eyes. “And I love you,” was his warm reply. Those were words Dorian would never tire of saying either.