fenris and anders

He grumbled, and scowled. But he was alive. Sore, and bandaged, insulted.... but alive. He sighed. He needed to do something to work off the frustration. Hawke would never let him pummel the mage, as he wished to often, but there must be something... He paused in his walking and examined his surroundings. Looking for something to hit, something to hunt, a clearing for sword practice...... Fenris groaned, a a low sound of frustration.

"Why must it always be forests?"

Trees. Tall, broad trunks, slight saplings, smooth and rough bark alike. He growled, spun, and selecting an extremely tall and leafy oak tree, began to climb. It was work, an exercise not performed often, and it took awhile to hit a rhythm. He stopped, three quarters of the way up, 100 feet in the air, and sprawled on a wide, sturdy branch, panting. Now what? Fenris thought. Leaning his head back into the smooth bark, he opened his eyes to a pure night sky. They widened in surprise at the great span of stars.
Tevinter skies were never so beautiful, surely. Surely he could not have missed this during enslavement... He sat, and gazed... until, a small splash broke his reverie. The moon had moved, quite a bit, indicating he'd sat there quite some time. His ears burned, picturing the others poking at his folly. He shifted, and sighed, intending to begin the descent back to the ground, where any sane person would keep their feet, he grumbled. Until another soft splash interrupted his thoughts. He twisted, reeling to stay attached to the tree, fighting the fall, before regaining balance and re-seating himself on his branch, still warm from his body. Peering at the small pond near the base of the tree, he searched for the source of the sound. His sharp eyes saw a bundle of clothing at the edge, and a..staff? Looking closely, he recognized the pauldron.
"Mage," he growled, still humiliated. "Reprobate, am I?" he snarled softly. He shifted to the side, not wanting to let the mage get a jump on him, and then.. Fenris gaped. He had much more muscle than most mages. Too many relied on buffs, and spells, not thinking of what happened when they ran out of juice. Anders, it appeared, had. He stared, examining every inch of Anders' skin available out of the water, pulling back at the scars on his body. Fenris recognized many, having a few of the same himself... Shackles, in particular, left more marks than many realized. Fenris, watching Anders bathe, leaned back against the tree, telling himself he was just staying to get more of that sky. That night, he watched the stars and moon change to dawn in a cool rippling pool beneath him, disturbed by the splashes of only one person.