Andarin: The Mountains: Fenris;

“This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face.
The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown.:
The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save Us!'...:

...and I'll look down, and whisper, 'No'"

He felt weak today.

Nicodemus, hero, Seer.

Nicodemus who, after nearly a year’s absence, after leaving to be sure that he could control the evil that had imprinted upon him, was weak.

Any other day he would have done well in hiding the air that he so shamefully bore. Others would parade about, not truly caring that evil had given them a second or third element, but Nicodemus hid it. He didn’t care that he held something that made him more powerful simply because of the nature of it. He felt the name on his mind, felt her power threatening him. Saphira.

Today was a different kind of day, and he felt the shard screaming. It was a different kind of scream than he was used to. It was the scream of fear. Nicodemus blinked in confusion. Fear? Why would that be?

And then he saw her come. He saw with his gift of mind-reading the Relic. The only thing that could temporarily free him. He felt the air leaving him, the imaginary choke of burden free him. A sigh is all it takes, and Nicodemus is grateful. He did not know her as she did not know him, but Nicodemus knew that this was Fenrisulfr. This was his Queen.

She speaks, and Andraste screeches, her cry beautiful and powerful all at once. For a moment the fire-bird seems as though she will attack, feathers ruffled, gaze piercing into the Queen. But the fire-horse turns, and for a moment it seems as though the two were speaking without words. After a moment, the bird’s feathers settle, though her gaze remains intent upon Fenris. Nicodemus returns his gaze to Fenris and lends her an apologetic smile, however feeble it was. But her words had him now, and Nicodemus does not seem surprised by her…rather strange voice. Little in this world surprised him.

He seems rather…offended by her question, however. As though she had treaded on dangerous ground. Nonetheless he was no liar. No matter how hard he tried to hide his skeletons. “Air, unfortunately, forced itself upon me.” He hangs his great head low in shame. “I would not have it were it not for….” His voice trails, and does not pick up again. He didn’t need to tell her. She, among all others, would know.

Andraste croons, her beak weaving into the flame-stallion’s mane.

SEER

**NICODEMUS**

Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose. This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us.