[ He's not completely sure what Jack's on about, but 'power thing' rings true enough. That's the driving philosophy of the Company and the Nine, so far as he understands it. Power and control. Keeping the lower classes exhausted and starving, keeping rivals complacent. Taking as much as they can and giving nothing back. Jack has always struck Fenris as perfectly of a piece with this mindset.
He watches, keeping still, as Jack pulls off his false face. The sight of it triggers something in him, a blurry memory that sharpens as Jack sits up. A different face, just as deformed, red and pale and half-melted. A stentorian voice, screaming for a dead god.
A slight tremor runs through his arm, but other than that, Fenris betrays no reaction, neither to what's in front of him nor to what's whispering behind his eyes. ]
Who would I tell, and why would I tell them?
[ It's not like his social calendar blows up every weekend. Or any weekend. ]
no subject
He watches, keeping still, as Jack pulls off his false face. The sight of it triggers something in him, a blurry memory that sharpens as Jack sits up. A different face, just as deformed, red and pale and half-melted. A stentorian voice, screaming for a dead god.
A slight tremor runs through his arm, but other than that, Fenris betrays no reaction, neither to what's in front of him nor to what's whispering behind his eyes. ]
Who would I tell, and why would I tell them?
[ It's not like his social calendar blows up every weekend. Or any weekend. ]