The man who had welcomed Fenris to this place had talked a great deal, and Fenris had barely understood every other word. They were all in a language he understood, but put together they made no sense. Fenris might hate most magic, but he had spent years around mages - he at least knew the terms and language that went with it. This internet and network meant nothing to him. The screen flickered and there were . . . many words, and images of people he didn't know.
And he had quick, grabby hands that had tried to poke at both Fenris' ears and the markings on his arms. Fenris had been highly tempted to beat him over the head with the device he was attempting to make Fenris use. Or cut off his hands with his blade, though that seemed rash. No matter how tempting.
Fenris finally retreated to a quiet area, attempting to get his bearings and learn the use of the device, however much he disliked it. Amidst all the strangers speaking and the sea of words, Fenris was relieved when he spotted those he knew. He and Hawke had their conflicts, but he was. . . more at ease knowing that she was there. Whatever her faults, and they were many, Hawke was better able to handle strange situations than anyone Fenris had ever known. And this was rapidly becoming memorably strange.
He puzzled through replying, staring in stunned dismay as he managed to insult someone who seemed to be The Hero of Ferelden, though she still seemed willing to help him.
There were far too many words for Fenris to work his way through. Isabela and the Warden-Commander both offered to aid him, but Fenris stopped answering for a time. The words weren't making sense and he felt exposed and out of place. And there were far too many people walking by looking at him. Fenris was an armored, armed elf with lyrium markings - he was used to being stared at. But in a strange city full of humans who dressed, spoke, and behaved in ways Fenris had never before seen - it bothered him. They might have abilities he knew nothing of, too. Like the device, or foreign magic.
He prowled the edges of the town. The forests, at least, seemed normal enough. (Though there were few near Kirkwall, so it was still somewhat unsettling to be in them.) Finally he made his way back toward the imposingly tall buildings he'd been told he was to be housed in. He was ushered toward a room and that was as strange as the rest of the town. Spartan and with gleaming metal things he didn't recognize. He disliked it, but it was at least quiet, with no watching eyes. He settled gingerly on a padded chair, finally working his way back through the words answering his own, awkwardly managing to ask Isabela and the Warden-Commander for help. He likely shouldn't have said such to both, but Fenris wanted to meet the Hero of Ferelden. . . and he hoped she would at least repeat what she had written, since he wasn't sure he had understood most of it.
He put aside the device without managing to read much of anything else, though he did try to see if the man who had spoken to him was truly the Ferelden King. It was difficult to tell, though. Fenris thought it did look like him, but then so did another using a different name.
He pushed open windows and paced around the space given him. When the knock at the door came, it almost startled him, used as he was to his own cavernous house and people waltzing through the front door whenever it suited them, no matter how much he would rather they did not.
He was a little relieved when it was Isabela, not the Warden-Commander. Much as he wished to meet her, he was not entirely sure what to say, either. He pulled the door open for her. "Nothing about this place makes any sense," he announced by way of hello, though he looked her over with narrowed eyes, checking for himself she was unharmed. "They speak in gibberish, and constantly."