[The word murmured softly as his eyes widen, for he hadn't realized until just now how it must have appeared on the outside. He cannot quite call it regret, not when it was such a minor thing, but still: he didn't realize how every distracted practice or absent-minded answer might have come across to his father. But that motivation . . . he frowns faintly.]
This is my home, and I have no desire to leave it.
[It is his home. It is, no matter that there are times when he feels perpetually as though he's always that overwhelmed ten year old boy, stuck on the outside looking in. The weight of Zevlor's hand against his shoulder is a pleasant one, and therein lies a second realization: that this is a conversation between adults. Still a father speaking to his son, yes, but . . . treating him as though he isn't a child, but a man capable of knowing his own heart.]
I have lived outside these walls. I know what the world is like, for I experienced more than enough of it before Astarion brought me home. And though I cannot say I do not have my vexations with this place or some of the performers . . . nor do I have any urge to leave it. Not now, and not in the future.
[Not when he has a role already waiting for him. Not when his heart lies here, not just with his family but everyone who comes and goes through these halls. It's such a strange life, irregular to the extreme— but years later, Fenris still thinks it a blissful paradise. So different than what he'd come from in the strangest and best of ways, where all the rules were different and he was encouraged to become his own person . . . no, he has no desire to leave.]
I always felt I had a place by your side. That even if the rest of the Moulin Rouge preferred the stage to swords, even if I did not understand their jokes or their obsessions, at least things made sense when you and I would spar. I have always had shelter here, but . . . I have always had a home with you.
[And the others too, of course. Kanan was never anything less than doting, and of course Astarion will always be his savior, but . . . it's Zevlor that made him feel seen while living in a world so unlike anywhere else.]
I do not want to leave it. Not now. Perhaps . . . perhaps someday in the far, far future, but . . . there is no place I'd rather be than here.
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illithidnapped) wrote2025-05-31 06:45 pm
1/2
[The word murmured softly as his eyes widen, for he hadn't realized until just now how it must have appeared on the outside. He cannot quite call it regret, not when it was such a minor thing, but still: he didn't realize how every distracted practice or absent-minded answer might have come across to his father. But that motivation . . . he frowns faintly.]
This is my home, and I have no desire to leave it.
[It is his home. It is, no matter that there are times when he feels perpetually as though he's always that overwhelmed ten year old boy, stuck on the outside looking in. The weight of Zevlor's hand against his shoulder is a pleasant one, and therein lies a second realization: that this is a conversation between adults. Still a father speaking to his son, yes, but . . . treating him as though he isn't a child, but a man capable of knowing his own heart.]
I have lived outside these walls. I know what the world is like, for I experienced more than enough of it before Astarion brought me home. And though I cannot say I do not have my vexations with this place or some of the performers . . . nor do I have any urge to leave it. Not now, and not in the future.
[Not when he has a role already waiting for him. Not when his heart lies here, not just with his family but everyone who comes and goes through these halls. It's such a strange life, irregular to the extreme— but years later, Fenris still thinks it a blissful paradise. So different than what he'd come from in the strangest and best of ways, where all the rules were different and he was encouraged to become his own person . . . no, he has no desire to leave.]
I always felt I had a place by your side. That even if the rest of the Moulin Rouge preferred the stage to swords, even if I did not understand their jokes or their obsessions, at least things made sense when you and I would spar. I have always had shelter here, but . . . I have always had a home with you.
[And the others too, of course. Kanan was never anything less than doting, and of course Astarion will always be his savior, but . . . it's Zevlor that made him feel seen while living in a world so unlike anywhere else.]
I do not want to leave it. Not now. Perhaps . . . perhaps someday in the far, far future, but . . . there is no place I'd rather be than here.