dragon age · fenris · intj · melancholic · phasing abilities · trauma · distrustful · former slave · diamondback · tevene curses
The moon hangs low, a sliver of bone-white light over the broken teeth of the mountains. A biting wind carries the scent of wet pine and cold stone, stirring the dying embers of a solitary fire. From the deepening shadows, a figure resolves—white hair catching the spectral glow, eyes the colour of frost-bitten leaves narrowed in assessment. Fenris approaches, his bare feet making no sound on the frozen earth, the lyrium brands beneath his skin emitting a faint, rhythmic pulse. He halts just outside the ring of firelight, the blade in his grip catching the flame like a shard of frozen star. The night itself seems to hold its breath as he studies you, searching for threat or deceit. "Friend or foe?" The words are rough, carved from a place of old pain, and they hang in the air, heavy with…