shok_ebasit_hissra | (no subject)

Dorian gave Bull an odd look. He appreciated the thanks, but he hadn't needed it. He was no great healer, but he did what he could do, and he saw it only as sensible to help Bull's pain with his magic. Bull, of course, hadn't been raised with much contact with Andrastianism, even the Tevinter flavor. But Dorian was, after a fashion, Andrastian. And magic was meant to serve man.

To not help Bull at all would have been more remarkable, to Dorian.

It could also have been that he was, despite the appearances he cultured, of a kind and gentle nature.

"The beach then. Because, ah -- we may have to make special arrangements at the playhouse. On account of your very impressive rack."

He offered Bull a fond smile before picking up his own bowl and fork, to follow suit, and finding himself a place tucked against Bull's side. He liked that about having Bull around.

Well, he liked having Bull around.

"I was thinking of that," he admitted. "But it's easy to sit in the back of movie theaters." So maybe not a play or opera or something, but they could catch a movie at least, if they felt inclined.

"Bet we could find more of that fried dough on the boardwalk. Like what you had last month at the Founder's Day to-do. Mm, speaking of."

Bull leaned forward to pluck up a wooden box sitting on the side table nearest him; from that he took another, smaller box, and he offered it to Dorian. He'd been saving it since Founder's Day, when Dorian spied him jewelry shopping. "I thought it would look good on you... and the seller said the stone was called dragon's breath."

Dorian set his bowl of salad aside and took the little box from Bull. Opening it revealed, nestled on black velvet, an exquisite ring. It was not an outrageously expensive piece, made of what seemed to be brass, perhaps, and set with a single, huge, glorious opal. In the light of the apartment, it had a milky glow; it seemed almost alive. Like, true to its name, it was a living and breathing flame inside. It was perfectly mundane, of course -- at least, it was right now, and Dorian had oh so many plans -- but that only seemed to add to the beauty of it. It was just a piece of stone, made that way by nature.

Dorian was struck dumb for a handful of heartbeats. Even once he thought he'd found his voice again, he didn't speak, but instead threw his arms around Bull's neck and hugged him with ferocity.

"You have any eye for this sort of thing."

It meant My gods, I didn't think I could love you any harder.

"Put it on. Here, put it on."

He held out a slender brown hand.

"Oh, I could make something very special out of this."

Edited 2017-05-04 05:25 (UTC)

Bull leaned into the embrace and slid his arm around Dorian to squeeze him close. "I try," he said, letting Dorian go only when the mage pulled away first. The excitement in Dorian's voice, the look on his face - all of that made this worth it. He had taken his time, looking over every piece to try to find something that seemed... well... Dorian.

He chuckled and took the ring so he could slide it onto a finger on Dorian's right hand. "I thought you could," he said fondly. "And it suits you." The colors, the uniqueness of the stone, all seemed to fit Dorian. And the dragon part, well... That just made it from Bull. "You'll have to tell me what you do to it, when you finally decide."

"How did you know I was going to enchant it?" Dorian asked, with good-natured suspicion. He was never that surprised anymore, really, when Bull could read him like a book. Bull still had the eyes of a Ben-Hassrath, and Dorian happened to be one of his favorite books. He supposed that had probably been true even years ago, when they were still accusing one another of being a spanner in the works.

"It's an ideal piece for it, actually. I prefer to work with cabochons."

Dorian held his hand out to the light, fingers extended, and admired the little bauble. It was exquisite. Worth a fortune to Dorian, even if it might not be to a jeweler.

"No point in turning it into a sending stone. Not when I carry a phone in my pocket. Hmm."

"Does it make a difference? The style of the stone?" he asked, wondering if there was some effect on the magic put into a stone depending on whether it was faceted or not.

Bull liked watching Dorian admire the piece, liked the way it looked on his hand.

"It does," Dorian said, delighted that Bull would ask. He was raised practically allergic to magic, but he did seem to like to know the theory behind it. It might be the spy in him, but Dorian assumed it was the sort of morbid fascination that he had with the Dalish elves, or spiders.

"The crystalline structure of the stone has a lot to do with how the entanglement of the quantum information is stored. It's not that different from the memory in your cellular device. Information; and energy. Except, in this instance, rather than coming from a battery, the energy comes from the Fade."

Dorian held it up to the light again, and waggled his fingers, enjoying the way the sun through the windows caught the stone and made it alive again.

His face turned silly, giddy for a moment, as he realized what he might like to do with it, though he didn't volunteer the information just yet. He wanted to surprise Bull.

Bull listened as Dorian described the differences between the stones, the way the magic worked in them. He had no idea how to imagine the practical application behind what Dorian said, but he could sort of grasp the theory of it.

More than anything, he smiled while Dorian admired the stone and the way the light caught it, making the fire-like shine inside of it come to life. Bull kissed the mage's neck, enjoying his scent and the warmth of his skin - the fire inside him.

"What's that smile for?" he asked when he noticed the giddy look on Dorian's face.

Dorian made a pliant noise and tilted his head to the side.

"Do that again."

It was half to distract Bull from the answer, but mostly because it had felt so nice. Dorian still planned to finish his dinner before it got wilty, but he supposed he could indulge himself for a few minutes. It had been such a very nice nuzzle against his neck.

"You aren't subtle," he teased, but he did as Dorian asked: he kissed his neck again, this time leaving a trail from just beneath his ear to his shoulder. He bit him once or twice - not too hard, just enough to leave faint red marks.

They could work on making more bruises later.

"You smell good," he murmured, as if he needed a reason to lavish Dorian with some attention.

"Luckily I've never made claims to subtlety."

Dorian leaned into Bull's ministrations with a low purr, followed by the softest, frustrated sigh. Once was enough, at least until it was time for bed properly. He'd just gotten out of the shower, and he was hungry. There were too many other things to attend to.

"I prefer melodrama. Did it work?"

He trailed his fingers down the length of Bull's arm, lingering on the crook of his thumb and forefinger. Dorian picked his fork and bowl back up, before stealing one of Bull's pieces of chicken,.

"No, but I'll stop asking." Bull smiled against Dorian's skin. He bit him again before he sat up, allowing Dorian more room to actually eat without trying to maneuver around Bull's head. They could continue this later. A movie and then that sounded like a fine way to spend the evening.

"I could ask where you want to live, instead, now that your list of demands has been worked out."

Dorian swallowed his food primly before speaking.

"I found a place, out near the woods. It isn't humongous, but it has vaulted ceilings, and an open plan, and it's all one floor. The property is large, moreover."

Dorian wasn't a country man. Or a wilderness one. He preferred cities, taverns. But the thought of owning an estate again was oddly comforting.

Plus, he wanted to learn how to garden. It was the best way to ensure the supply of so many of the things he needed most, for potions, tinctures and salves. Ferelden had made Dorian become more self-sufficient in some ways; it seemed Darrow would, in others.

He pursed his lips.

"And a barn, with a stable."

Edited 2017-05-05 00:38 (UTC)

Bull listened while he ate, taking in everything Dorian described. The house sounded good; he had to admit that the idea of living on one floor was appealing. He didn't mind stairs, never complained about them, but being able to shuffle from one room to the next sounded nice.

The property might be a lot to take care of, but maybe they could figure that out.

He tipped his head at the mention of the barn. "Are you thinking of keeping something in the barn?"

Dorian was quiet for a few minutes, working on finishing off his salad. He speared a thinly sliced cucumber -- they were his favorite -- and brought his eyes up to look at Bull with surprise.

"Well, a horse, of course. I miss riding."

"You did it just an hour ago," he quipped, trying to keep his face neutral but a smile soon betrayed him. "You sure you don't just want to get a saddle for me?"

Dorian made a noise of familiar disgust. "Oh, ha ha. Very droll."

He stabbed at the last few remaining large pieces of lettuce in his salad and tucked them away in his mouth, before waving the fork at Bull.

"I was being serious. Not that I miss having chapped thighs, but a little riding now nd then as a hobby wouldn't be terrible. Are you not a fan?"

Bull grinned at the sound Dorian made and nudged him. "You like it." And he was probably lucky that Dorian did.

"Finding a horse that can carry a Qunari my size wasn't easy," he pointed out. "I did a lot of walking. Besides, it was better with the Chargers to move on foot - not all of them could afford a mount. Or like Krem, not all of them could handle one." They were mercenaries, not cavalry.

"I can ride, though. Just didn't have much opportunity after leaving Seheron."

Dorian slid his legs onto the sofa and tucked his feet onto Bull's lap, searching for the warmth of him. He set his bowl, now done with it, aside.

"Let's not overstate your case. I tolerate it." Which meant, of course, that he liked it. "I never did learn uch about Seheron when I was younger. I mean, I did, but it was all useless propaganda."

Bull set his empty bowl aside and let his hands fall to Dorian's feet. He'd promised a massage, and he meant to keep to that. And it gave him something physical to focus on when Dorian mentioned Seheron again.

"You wouldn't have been sent there, would you? Never heard of any magister's sons being sent, but I guess that doesn't mean they weren't." His thumb stroked along the arch of Dorian's foot. "Krem was being trained to be sent over before things fell apart for him."

He looked at Dorian, curious. "What did you hear about it?"

"Only if they wanted to be. But you wouldn't find a magister's son in the rank and file of course, oh no. And not a Pavus, either. My father's house is known for politics, not the military."

All of that seemed so far away from there, in Darrow, tucked against Bull on the sofa. Relievedly. Disturbingly.

Dorian gave a very long sigh, toes curling up in pleasure at Bull's ministrations, even as his face grew folded and uncertain.

"Qunari brainwashing, savage, roving packs of the Fog Warriors, generally a latrine filled with powderkegs. I've no doubt things were volatile ... but there must have been at least something worth staying for. Especially on the behalf of the Qunari."

Dorian might have been loath to admit it, a few years ago, but the Qun was nothing if not pragmatic.

"Not that inaccurate," he said with a shrug of one shoulder. "It's a foothold against Tevinter, as much symbolic as it is practical. People still talk about how it took three Exalted Marches to push us back in that far in the first place. When we got Seheron back, it became more important to hold it. The locals like us better than the Imperium, so it's seen as a success."

He sort of stared off at nothing as he talked about it, but his hands never stopped their gentle attention to Dorian's feet. By now he knew every little thing that would make him sigh and shiver and relax.

"Between the Tal-Vashoth and the Fog Warriors, I welcomed the Vint incursions. That always felt straight-forward."

"To be perfectly honest, these days I can't really blame them. At least you know where you are with the Qun. They'll politely tell you they have no use for you anymore, before taking you permanently out of the picture. In Tevinter, they'll stab you in the back while smiling and asking you how the kids are, and isn't the weather lovely lately."

Dorian pressed some of his hair back into its style before leaning over and giving Bull an awkward, but appreciative, kiss on the cheek.

"I wish we could go back. Any Thedas at all feels more straight-forward than here. Maker, what depressing talk. We should obviously have dessert."

"Seheron was a sack of cats. Even Darrow is better than being back there. It's where I went mad." And Darrow had made him worry about it again. But he trusted Dorian and Krem, both to keep him grounded and to take care of business if he did go off the deep end. Maybe he should leave instructions, in case they didn't just want to kill him.

"I don't think I want to go back to the Thedas I left. Maybe if I could go with you and be Tal-Vashoth." He kissed Dorian's temple. "What are you craving for dessert?"

"I didn't mean--" Dorian looked at Bull with apology and contrition. He hadn't meant to suggest that he wished to go back to Seheron, or that it was in any way better than Darrow. Because Seheron was so utterly outside of Dorian's experience. Many things still were.

"If you could come back with me. Just be Tal-Vashoth. I would be happy." He moved to stand, kissing Bull on the top of his head as a bandage for his thoughtlessness.

"Do you still have some of that chocolate bar left? The dark one, with the pomegranate seeds."