[Fenris gives a frustrated 'tch' sound. Because of course it was Robin. Of course it was. He doesn't make note of the trailing off, or, if he does, he doesn't voice it.]
Not that I have seen. Though perhaps one of the medical staff has the understanding to do so.
[That...is a loaded question. Fenris knows, once upon a time, the person he used to be fought for these markings. To have them burned into his flesh. He paid for the freedom of his mother and sister with them, with his identity, with being turned into a monster on a leash.
He remembers the agony of receiving them, of coming to when the painstaking process was finally done, after days and days of nothing but agony - and knowing nothing. How he was paraded about by his master, ready to kill with a snap of his fingers. How pleased Danarius had been. To have done the impossible. How he represented the man's lifetime of work. How every scar laced with lyrium was Danarius' claim on him, the tendrils of the markings traced by rough fingers every night. His..
The pain still lingers, a constant dull ache. The pull of the Fade trapped beneath his skin, whispering and singing and hurting. A pain that spikes when he's touched. He's learned to push past it, to ignore it, for those he trusts enough to come that close. But the pain is still there. He often wonders how much of it is the lyrium and how much is due to what they represent.
As much as a curse as the markings were, they had also served him well. Without them, he never would have been free. He wouldn't have been able to protect his friends the way he had. He hates them, with all his heart and soul, but they are a necessary evil.
But yet... There was a time, once, when United Earth had kidnapped him, had disabled his markings. He was angry, at being captured, but he remembers it best as the only time he was ever not in pain. How strange the absence of the pain that had always been there had felt. How he could touch other people and not feel like it burned. To have that feeling again...]
I do not waste my time, wishing for hopeless things.
[lucky for him, Fenris can't watch him pressing his palms over his eyes. he's not sure if Fenris' devotion to his own misery makes him angry, or just... upset. he knows he doesn't have much right to be either.
but something about Fenris has always stuck with him. since he met him. maybe he's just always felt kind of bad for him. part of his Kings' Realm, perhaps, or maybe he just reminds him of himself.
but he doesn't want to drag this thing somewhere it doesn't need to go. he's been drinking, but not enough for this argument.]
I'd offer to help, you know, but you're already pissed off, so. I know how that'd go without having to say it.
So thanks for the thought, I guess.
[he will turn his device off and leave it somewhere for a while. he's not keen on responding, if there's ever anything to even respond to.]
[Fenris knew the offer was going to come. Even without the feelings of anger and betray he has towards Robin, he likely wouldn't have accepted it. He speaks so much of moving forward, of finding a new life, of leaving all these chains behind. He says it to Nel, plenty, demands it of the other elf.
But Fenris is best at his hypocrisy, and cannot leave his own chains behind. Not entirely. His own are his hatred, his dogged need to hang on to it, to be spiteful and vicious to those who wrong him and never, ever let it go. To never forgive, to never forget. He knows it will slowly destroy him, but he hangs onto it all the same.
As he does his markings. He's a fool, and he knows it. But fixing it. Fixing himself is something still far beyond him. ]
That fact it is your offer and not someone else's would do little to change my answer.
[He can take whatever comfort from that he wishes. Fenris doesn't much care. ]
Voice
[...he trails off. oddly. probably nothing.]
Voice
Not that I have seen. Though perhaps one of the medical staff has the understanding to do so.
Voice
[something about him is definitely more subdued. his frustration, or his tone.]
Have you ever thought... about it? For you?
Voice
[That...is a loaded question. Fenris knows, once upon a time, the person he used to be fought for these markings. To have them burned into his flesh. He paid for the freedom of his mother and sister with them, with his identity, with being turned into a monster on a leash.
He remembers the agony of receiving them, of coming to when the painstaking process was finally done, after days and days of nothing but agony - and knowing nothing. How he was paraded about by his master, ready to kill with a snap of his fingers. How pleased Danarius had been. To have done the impossible. How he represented the man's lifetime of work. How every scar laced with lyrium was Danarius' claim on him, the tendrils of the markings traced by rough fingers every night. His..
The pain still lingers, a constant dull ache. The pull of the Fade trapped beneath his skin, whispering and singing and hurting. A pain that spikes when he's touched. He's learned to push past it, to ignore it, for those he trusts enough to come that close. But the pain is still there. He often wonders how much of it is the lyrium and how much is due to what they represent.
As much as a curse as the markings were, they had also served him well. Without them, he never would have been free. He wouldn't have been able to protect his friends the way he had. He hates them, with all his heart and soul, but they are a necessary evil.
But yet... There was a time, once, when United Earth had kidnapped him, had disabled his markings. He was angry, at being captured, but he remembers it best as the only time he was ever not in pain. How strange the absence of the pain that had always been there had felt. How he could touch other people and not feel like it burned. To have that feeling again...]
I do not waste my time, wishing for hopeless things.
Voice
[lucky for him, Fenris can't watch him pressing his palms over his eyes. he's not sure if Fenris' devotion to his own misery makes him angry, or just... upset. he knows he doesn't have much right to be either.
but something about Fenris has always stuck with him. since he met him. maybe he's just always felt kind of bad for him. part of his Kings' Realm, perhaps, or maybe he just reminds him of himself.
but he doesn't want to drag this thing somewhere it doesn't need to go. he's been drinking, but not enough for this argument.]
I'd offer to help, you know, but you're already pissed off, so. I know how that'd go without having to say it.
So thanks for the thought, I guess.
[he will turn his device off and leave it somewhere for a while. he's not keen on responding, if there's ever anything to even respond to.]
Voice
But Fenris is best at his hypocrisy, and cannot leave his own chains behind. Not entirely. His own are his hatred, his dogged need to hang on to it, to be spiteful and vicious to those who wrong him and never, ever let it go. To never forgive, to never forget. He knows it will slowly destroy him, but he hangs onto it all the same.
As he does his markings. He's a fool, and he knows it. But fixing it. Fixing himself is something still far beyond him. ]
That fact it is your offer and not someone else's would do little to change my answer.
[He can take whatever comfort from that he wishes. Fenris doesn't much care. ]