wolfuncaged | IC CONTACT

IC CONTACT - DRIFT FLEET

FROM:

SUBJECT:

	KIRK	Fenris? It's me. Can I come in?
	MARIAN/CLOUD	Meanacing
	DORIAN	Well, I wasn't certain what to expect...
	JUSTICE	You seem to have escaped the planet unharmed.
	RIONA	You know, when someone is three sheets to the wind and suggests a threesome...
	RIONA	Fenris! It feels like ages since we've spoken.
	KIRK	ACTION
	MARIAN	Fenriiiiis
	ADALWOLFE	please tell me you didn't sleep with Isabela too
	ANDERS	:3
	MARIAN	This will do
	KIRK	Can we talk?
	MARIAN	You're a mess, Marian.
	ADALWOLFE	Special delivery!
	ANDERS	Maybe it will help with your face.
	HAWKE	Fenris? You there?
	VARRIC	Don't-- don't do anything.
	OCTAVIA	Hey, Fenris
	ELIZE	Fenris?
	JOVE	ACTION
	STEVEN	fenrisssssssssssssssssssssssss
	ROBIN	Listen, Fenris, I know you don't give a shit about me, but--
	FELIX	Fenris, I apologize for contacting you in this way, but I was wondering...
	JOVE	SO ABOUT COLE
	JOVE	STRAWBERRIES

TO:

SUBJECT:

	KIRK	About Anders
	KIRK	Kirk wakes
	KIRK	Kirk? Can we speak?
	MARIAN	Where are you? We need to speak.
	KIRK	You wish to speak
	HAWKE	We need to speak
	VARRIC	Varric. Varric. Varric wake up.
	JOVE	Jove. May I have a moment of your time?
	JOVE	Can we speak? Are you busy?
	HAWKE	Is there anywhere on this blighted hole we can find any decent alcohol?
	JOVE	I was spiteful and angry to you, and I owe you an apology.
	HAWKE	Hawke. Did you know the Inquisition have a demon?
	VARRIC	There is something I need to tell you.

inboxcode by

cawaii

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kirk stepped in, glancing around the room briefly before placing the coffee on the nearest flat surface. He kept the bag in hand, for the moment, politely waiting to be told where he could sit.

"How are you doing?" He asked. "And I brought coffee. The coffee maker decided to work today, so I thought we should make use of its good graces."

Fenris only had a bed to sit on, which he gestured to with a wordless wave of his hand. Feel free to sit on it, Kirk, it's not like he ever sleeps on the damn thing.

"Truly? And I thought it had finally decided to give up on working for us ever again," there's some lightness in his tone, under everything else. "I am...as well as could be expected. How are you?"

He was a touch strained, small talk was never his forte.

Kirk took the offered spot, picking up his particular coffee mug and sipping.

"I think it just had its feathers ruffled from that weird wave he rode out when we came planet side," he said. "I used one of Finwe's songs and that seemed to do the trick. For now." So be glad of its good humor and indulge while you could, basically.

"And I'm fine," he nodded. "But I think we both know what I came to talk about, right?"

Fenris didn't sit, not yet, his arms folded. He was too full of nervous tension to actually sit still. Here...well, here, he could have the room to pace, if he chose to. Which was likely. He knew whatever happened, this conversation would go to places he did not normally like to discuss. Open doors he tried his best to keep closed.

Worse, he did not know how this would end. Where it would put them. He trusted Kirk, had a lot of faith and respect for the man- he would not have agreed to be his first mate, if that were not the case. But he was who he was, and there were things he could not change, would not change. If those things were unworkable...well.

"I have been expecting it for a while, yes."

For awhile, huh? Maybe he had left it to long, but what was done was done. He would not apologize for the way he had handled things back on the outpost, nor would he apologize for giving orders. Perhaps, if he were a better man, a less egotistical man, he would, but he had his reasons. That was the point of this conversation, wasn't it?

But he would have to be the first to speak, that was obvious. He took a sip of his coffee and mulled over things for a second, because of course in the moment words did not come quite so easily as he would like.

"I gave you orders like I did, Fenris, because I trust you."

"That seems rather counter-intuitive."

Never one to not speak his mind, Fenris. He leaned on the wall, arms folded, brow furrowed. It made no sense to him. Trust didn't come with orders, not for him. Orders were in the absence of trust, command asking that place. There was no trust when an order was given, just an expectation that it would be carried out. Or else.

He looked down at the floor, knowing he had to voice those kinds of things, that he couldn't expect people to just know. It was something he was trying to get better at.

"Tell me. What would you do if I chose not to heed your orders? After all, orders are an expectation of something to be completed, with consequences if they are not. Feel free to pretend that you actually have any power over me to begin with."

Ah, and here they were. How to explain this? It wasn't something he had to explain often, or at all. It had always been something mutually understood between himself and his crew. It was his fault, he realized, for simply shoving Fenris into that same place - a habit he needed to undo here. But he had fallen on habit in the moment, which he wouldn't necessarily apologize for so much as try to be aware of.

"There's not much I can do here if you don't," he admitted. He knew that much, though it was hard to remember sometimes, but he never liked dolling out punishment anyways. "The worst I could do is try and remove you as first mate, which isn't much of a punishment here, as it were."

He took a breath.

"But that's not all. I give orders on the expectation that they will be followed and also that they can be. I trust the person I'm giving the order to, especially in high tension and emergency situations. I don't have to worry that they may decide not to do it - they trust me enough in turn to do it. When I have to say things like please in those situations it makes me feel as if I am begging, as if there is that one chance you might not follow through on what I ask and put myself and anyone else around us at risk."

He sipped his drink, shifting on the bed and wondering if he made a lick of sense.

"Where I am from, the way I operate, orders are not about a lack of trust. It's mutual. Because my orders could be wrong too. I will admit that. And I full expect you, someone I trust, to tell me when those orders might do that. That's part of it. I don't expect you to blindly follow me, Fenris. That's not what I want. But I would hope you trust me to make the right decisions and to follow through on them."

There was a desire to lash out. To snarl and fight and rip this whole thing apart. The desire was strong, in all honestly. Fenris was trying to be better, and times like his were proof that it was not easy. At all. He took a deep, calming breath. In. Out.

"This is not about trust, Kirk. I assure you, if I did not trust you, you would not be sitting in here at all."

He wouldn't have got within three feet of the elf. Trust never came easily to Fenris. It was earned, through fire and flame. He took another deep breath, his fingers drumming on his arms, agitated, uncomfortable. This...was not his favourite subject.

"You have to understand. When I am ordered by anyone, I go right back to him, of being collared and chained. When I broke free of Danarius, I swore to myself that I would never be ordered to do anything by anyone else again. That I would finally be free to do as I chose, at the behest of no one else."

Danarius left deeper scars than the lyrium. Ones he knew he would never truly heal from. All he could do was avoid what he knew would open up those old wounds, and live with it as best he could.

"I cannot, and will not break that vow- and you cannot ask that of me. If that means you need another first mate, then so be it. I would recommend Kara, incidentally," he shrugged his shoulders, unhappy, but knowing it needed to be said. "I am sorry. This is something I cannot budge on, not for you, not even for Hawke."

He let out his own sigh. He did not want Fenris to feel that way around him or to bring up such memories. It was the last thing he wanted, but he himself was not sure that he could remember the nicities of conversation when the Fleet was under attack either. It was a thorny place they found themselves, and no matter which way he looked he saw blood being drawn.

"I know I can't ask that of you," he said quietly. "And I wouldn't. I just ask for an understanding that I did not do it as a means of - a means of control. You are free here Fenris, as much as any of us are, and I would never seek to take that from you."

He went quiet again as he looked for the right words, not wanting to say the wrong thing and have there be a misunderstanding. The last thing he desired was to damage the relationship he had forged with Fenris.

"I can promise that I will not issue an order to you outside of emergencies. But if, say, we are being attacked, I must ask your forgiveness ahead of time. I will try and remember to ask and not order from now on, but I cannot promise you that I will. It's not the assurance you deserve Fenris, and know I do not do it out of malice, but it is all I can offer in good faith."

Fenris deserved his honesty, and while he could try, he was far from a perfect man. The need to defend his ship and those aboard it would supersede the need to recall to add on the word 'please'. And that was not something he would feel guilty for.

"And you are still my first mate if you desire it," he smiled a little. "I still believe you are best suited, and frankly the most likely to hit me across the head if need be."

Fenris listened to Kirk's words, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly- never one to stay still for extended periods of time. Still, he did pay Kirk his utmost attention despite that. He held the mans' words as something of great importance, especially now.

"That is...acceptable," not quite the right word he was going for, his nose wrinkles and he shakes his head. "No. I mean, that is...good of you. I can work with that. Honestly, it is all I ask."

Just to let Kirk understand, to know he does, means a lot. It's never easy to put into words, not without going into detail he'd rather avoid. It's...good, that he doesn't have to.

A small smile crossed his face, in part for Kirk's comment, but also a reassurance. Things were okay.

"That is very true. You can always rely on me for that, Kirk."

Tension melted from his body, lips pulling into the warm, easy smile he was known for, glad that they had reached an understanding. He would honestly try, but mortals had the unpleasant habit of forgetting and making mistakes. At least he had assured Fenris now that he wasn't purposefully ignoring his request the times it would probably happen in the future, despite his best efforts.

He did have questions about how Fenris had come by his trauma, the full scope of it, but he felt that those questions could wait another time, for when Fenris was ready to divulge such things. They had only known each other for six months, perhaps a little more, but he knew that was not long for someone who gave his trust in the tiniest of pieces. Perhaps one day he would be able to learn more, but pressing Fenris, he thought, would only make him retreat further.

"I have no doubt," he chuckled, setting his cup aside and reaching for the bag he had brought with him.

He reached in, bringing out two objects. The first was a worn book, clearly having seen better days, but not quite falling apart. It was not overly large, but neither was it small. The second item was a journal - the entire cover decorated in brilliant sparkles and the image of an earth-style unicorn. The clasp had a small pad meant for a thumb to be placed on it, acting as the lock, and came with a matching pen that wrote in silver glitter ink tucked into a loop.

"I brought these for you as well," he held them out to Fenris. "I saw them in the market, and I thought they would be of use to you."

One day, Fenris would tell him about it. Likely piece by piece, as his trust in the man grew- not just for the man in general, but to feel safe enough to bare the ugliest parts of his life to someone and trust that Kirk wouldn't think less of him because of it. Because of what he allowed to happen to him, because he never knew he could be anything else.

He stared at the gifts, confusion crossing his brow. The book, at least, piqued his interest, but the journal. Was that glitter?

"...It has a unicorn on it??"

Whenever he was ready. Stories like that had to be told at their own pace, in their own way. Forcing them out of someone was akin to putting them through the trauma again, and Fenris didn't deserve that. He didn't want that of his friend.

The look the other gave him as he presented the gifts was enough to make him laugh quietly, looking a touch sheepish, but not nearly enough to be truly sorry.

"It was the only one I could find with all its pages intact and not, uh, used for some other purposes," he explained, jiggling it in Fenris' direction for him to take. "Beggars can't be choosers."

And that sort of attitude would be exactly why Fenris would feel comfortable in telling them. He needed that. To come to it on his own. His own autonomy remained the most important gift Fenris possessed. He always cherished those who took it seriously.

He stared a little more at the glitterly abomination, listening to his explanation, before gingerly taking it. He always sucks at getting gifts. Hawke always struggled with it.

"I- thank you?"

Kirk laughed again, the sound a short little chuff.

"I thought you could use it to practice your spelling and writing," he explained. "I also though that you could use this to get out the things you can't say aloud. It helped me, when I was going through some things. Still does, though I tend to speak it to a recorder rather than write. I found one with a bio-seal too - your thumbprint, that is, so it's secure. No one's going to be reading this but you."

He reached out and patted the journal, flashing an almost cheeky grin.

"I also figure that no one would ever connect this type of decoration with you, so anyone curious won't think to look in here even if they could crack it."

Oh. Oh. So that's what it was for. Fenris' fingers run over the front of it delicately, with a little more care this time. It was something important.

"That is...good of you," to think for his letter practise, to give him a different way of venting. "...Perhaps it will help."

He can't punch his way out of everything. Still, he stares at it with a strange, detached wonder. He's not sure what he's done to deserve it, and is a little afraid to ask.

"I hope it does," he nodded, pushing up from the bed, taking his empty cup but leaving Fenris his.

"Do you want help keying it to your thumbprint? And we should probably find you a fresh pen. I'm not sure the attached one actually works," he sounded a touch sheepish admitting that, but he had just been grateful to find a journal with more than five pages intact and not crudely drawn on.

Fenris looks down at the gift again, before looking up, offering Kirk a small smile of gratitude.

"I would appreciate that, thank you. For both the help and the pen."

He simply nodded to that, knowing that Fenris wasn't one for over sentimentality, but it was a touching moment, and one he was grateful for after their earlier tension. He took the journal back and turned it, fiddling with a series of buttons and then held it out to Fenris.

"Just press your thumb to the pad and wait for it to beep. That will mean it's now coded to your thumb print and any time you want to open it, you just press it to the lock," he instructed. "It's a biological signature. No one else will be able to open it either, like I said."

He recognised the technology, to an extent. His time in Exsilium was, thankfully, educational in that matter. He knew he should be glad for it. It made the transition to the Fleet easier than those he shared his home world with.

"Hm. Clever."

He'll do as asked, pressing his thumb to it. Beep boop. He now has a personal journal. You're the best, Kirk.

He does try.

"Well, unless you need help with anything else, I'll leave you to yourself," he declared, taking up his cup of coffee and leaving Fenris his to finish in his own time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

IC CONTACT - DRIFT FLEET

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject