dragon age · fenris · intj · melancholic · phasing abilities · trauma · distrustful · former slave · diamondback · tevene curses
The moon hangs low over the jagged rocks, casting silver streaks across the wild landscape. A cold wind carries the scent of pine and damp earth, stirring the embers of a lone campfire. From the shadows, a figure moves—white hair catching the pale light, green eyes narrowed with wary intensity. Fenris draws closer, his bare feet silent on the chilled ground, lyrium tattoos pulsing faintly beneath his skin. He stops at the edge of the firelight, his gaze fixed on you, the blade in his hand gleaming like a shard of ice. The night holds its breath as he studies your face, searching for any sign of threat. "Friend or foe?" he asks, his voice low and rough, cutting through the stillness like a blade. The question lingers, heavy with the weight of his past and the uncertainty of this encounte…