shok_ebasit_hissra | (no subject)

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One morning Bull woke up, no longer Askaashi, once more seeing the world through just one eye. It felt strange, but good. His memories felt close, felt real. It had been one hell of a week. He was glad Krem thought to keep some of his adult clothes around. He got dressed and headed out; they sky was heavy and overcast, and every time the wind kicked up he could smell rain.

He made his way to the library; he remembered that Dorian had to work, which was how he'd ended up at Krem's. Or maybe it was because he'd kept trying to itch his horn nubs on everything Dorian owned.

It felt really good to be an adult again.

The rain started before he reached the library; when he got there he saw a familiar figure just coming out. Bull grinned.

"Dorian! I'm back."

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"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."

"I know you didn't," he assured. He gently caught Dorian's chin, holding him close for a full kiss. "If I could go back to Thedas as a Tal-Vashoth and be with you, even with the sky crapping out demons, I think I'd like it." He let Dorian go and sank bank. Going back to the Thedas he remembered though, the one in which the Chargers were dead, did not sound like a promising prospect. If his choices were that or Darrow, at least Darrow had Krem and Dorian and no Qun.

"I do, and you probably know exactly where it is." He kept that particular chocolate bar in stock because he knew Dorian liked it.

Bull's hands were broad and thick and Dorian had seen them break a man's neck with concerning ease before, but they were always gentle when Bull held him that way, just with his thumb and forefinger around his chin, caring. It was a vulnerable feeling, but not in a horrible way. Dorian had since decided he didn't mind being so vulnerable, with Bull.

He sighed into Bull's kiss.

"You're my Tal-Vashoth. Now please bring me expensive chocolate."

Bull chuckled and nudged Dorian back down onto the couch. With a quiet grunt he got up and shuffled into the kitchen to find Dorian's chocolate. He found something for himself, too, and when he came back he offered Dorian the bar with the pomegranate throughout. He gripped the back of the couch as he eased himself back down and put his leg up again.

"You know, I'm not sure I'll ever fully be Tal-Vashoth," he admitted quietly, carefully peeling his own chocolate open. It had caramel in it. "There's parts of the Qun that are... helpful, to me. Still."

"And there are parts of the Chant that I try to live by. But you'll never catch me in a chantry, listening to some sister ask me why I don't submit myself to a Southern Circle, or admit that Andraste was an atual divinity."

Dorian cracked three squares off of the dark bar Bull had given him with a satisfyingly crisp snap.

"It doesn't bother me if you structure your life based on what helps you, or what you still believe. It only bothers me to think that you're doing so much hurting, because you're still figuring out which parts are right for you."

"That part is easy," he admitted quietly. "Painful, after a lifetime of living a certain way. But easy." He looked over at Dorian. "I can't - don't want - to put it before you. Before Krem. I never want to think of acceptable sacrifices or the demands of the Qun again. Not like that."

"Your feelings aren't an acceptable sacrifice. You deserve to be happy."

Dorian's mouth made a sideways smile. He took one of the squares of chocolate and placed it on his tongue. He let it it there, slowly melting.

"It wasn't feelings," he said quietly. "It was. But it was people." He looked down. "After the Inquisitor gave the order to save the dreadnought, something... shifted in me. The line I'd been walking for years, I fell to one side of it. I burned the Chargers' bodies, scattered them to the wind, and I dedicated myself to the Qun. Losing them made me wish I could go to Par Vollen, to be fixed again. But I managed it on my own."

He looked over at Dorian. "All they had to do was give the order, and I would have--" He cut himself off, chest tight at the thought of it now.

He would have killed them all.

Dorian didn't think Bull was quite ready to talk about this, not just yet. They could be at the limit of their earnest talk of feelings, for now.

Dorian made quiet shushing noises, before leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Bull's neck, fingers laced at the base of his skull. Dorian brought their mouths together in a kiss, pressing his tongue to sweep across Bull's. All warmth and melty chocolate.

Bull pulled Dorian closer, right into his lap. He needed to feel him, warm and alive and there. He closed his eye when they kissed, tasting chocolate and something that was just Dorian beneath it all. One hand very gently cradled the mage's head and the other arm stayed around him.

"Kadan," he murmured, almost like it was a prayer, or like he was giving thanks. "I wish I had a better word. A more specific one."

Dorian broke away with a hitch in his breathing, the pace speeding up, stuttering. That had been a very fine kiss, and a deep one.

"I like that one." Dorian swallowed deeply, and cracked another small square of chocolate off of the piece he'd pulled off for himself.

"Maybe because I don't speak Qunlat. But I like it. It's yours."