pompouspeacock | Adoribull thread!

December 2018

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
						1
2	3	4	5	6	7	8
9	10	11	12	13	14	15
16	17	18	19	20	21	22
23	24	25	26	27	28	29
30	31

Custom Text

This is not what Dorian expected when he left Minrathous to flee his father and a landscape of political intrigue that had grown suffocating. He did not expect the huge Fade rift in the sky, and he did not expect joining the ragtag band of misfits called the Inquisition, almost on a whim. He did not expect that this would mean being dragged along on expeditions all over Thedas either, trudging through bogs and deserts and forests and sleeping under a tent in the increasingly grating company of the Inquisitor's dreadful parties.

He most definitely had not expected The Iron Bull. Finding out that the Inquisitor had recruited a Qunari mercenary had been quite a shock, though Dorian had easily pretended otherwise. Over the next few weeks, he'd made a few barbed comments to test the waters, and had been somewhat befuddled by the disarmingly mild responses he'd gotten in return. Somewhere along the way they had started talking, and had reached an unexpected truce. He still thinks that there is a good chance The Iron Bull is a Qunari spy, though he must admit he is useful and seems reasonably reliable.

But just when Dorian was starting to get used to the very oddity of fighting alongside a Qunari, the flirting had started.

Now, Dorian is no stranger to flirtation. As a matter of fact, it is a personal goal of his to make most everything he says sound like some kind of double-entendre. But the Bull's flirting is so utterly appalling that even Dorian has to groan when he hears it. His innuendo is about as subtle as a blow to the head with a battle axe. His leering make Dorian feel annoyed and hot under the collar in equal measures. Not to mention his winking which, considering he only has one eye, looks utterly ridiculous.

Dorian has ignored it well enough so far, up to today, when he had to somewhat vehemently tell the Bull that no, he most definitely had not meant it that way when he'd called him a beast of burden hell-bent on conquest.

It's not that he's not interested, exactly. It's just that it's... complicated. And for all his charm, The Iron Bull is still a great lumbering oaf that keeps Dorian up with his snoring on a regular basis.

Speaking of which, now that Dorian is paying attention, there is none. Which probably means the Bull isn't sleeping either. Frowning in the darkness of their shared tent, Dorian rolls onto his back with a somewhat overly dramatic put-upon sigh, his shoulder bumping against Bull's.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bull rarely misreads anyone, much less so extravagantly, so he is feeling somewhere between put out and embarrassed. It's not a nice place to inhabit. He would greatly prefer a comfortable bed and a willing companion, as it happened, but that thought only reminds him of why he is in...not trouble, exactly, though the Inwuisitor had given him the hairy eyeball, pointedly not changed the camping arrangements, and ordered him to make it right.

To Dorian. Who he has apparently not understood nearly so well as he thought.

He is just marshalling the words to explain himself and apologize, when Dorian sighs and knocks shoulders with him. "Something on your mind, big guy?" He asks neutrally. Maybe Dorian will meet him halfway, in a sense, bring up the topic so Bull doesn't have to.

Probably not, though. He has never known the 'Vint to take an easy surrender.

Bull's shoulder is very warm against his own, Dorian quickly learns, and that's why he stays where he is instead of rolling away again. Or so he tells himself.

He turns his head to look over to Bull when he speaks up, catching sight of his horned head, a dark outline over the grey material of the tent. "You mean other than the fact that we are currently stuck in the middle of a barren desert, that I have climbed so many ladders my fingers are blistering and that I haven't had a proper wash in two days?" He drawls in response, loftily, and it comes out a little more aggressive than he meant it. "Why, no. Whatever else could be on my mind?"

"At least it's not freezing cold," Bull shrugs off Dorian's complaints, as usual.

He struggles with his pride only briefly. Qunari are a proud people, this is true, but as individuals they are not encouraged to think themselves terribly special. Dorian has clearly had different lessons, he thinks wryly, but abandons that line of thought as a distraction from his purpose.

Make it right, the Inquisitor had said. But he's not sure how he got it so wrong in the first place...

"I apologize for my advances today," he says. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Dorian snorts rudely at the reply but he has to concede the point. It could, indeed, be much colder. It has been, before, very nearly enough for Dorian to consider choosing a robe that did not bare his entire shoulder to the biting wind. "There is that," he answers, grudgingly.

What Bull says next makes him turn his head to look at him, his eyebrows arching in open surprise. He had not expected an apology, mostly because he had not expected the Bull to care about his supposed discomfort. Had he been so obvious?

He makes a dismissive sound, trying very had to appear nonchalant. "Oh, please. It takes more than thinly veiled innuendo to rattle me. It was appalling, and yet by no means the worst I've ever heard." He considers for a second, and frowns. "Did the Inquisitor put you up to this?"

Bull can't help it, he laughs. Dorian is anything but a fool. "I kinda wanna know what the worst you've ever heard was."

He struggles to find the appropriate response. "The Inquisitor did say something to me, yeah. But I don't apologize unless I mean it. Whether you've heard worse or not, I clearly crossed a line." He considers that for a moment, prodding again at the why of it, and asks, "Was it because there were other people around? Bas have the weirdest ideas about sex and privacy, I swear..." He does know enough about bas to know that you don't talk about sex with a married couple unless they're both interested, but he has to admit, the nuances of bas mating rituals confuse him.

No matter the situation, the sound of Bull's laughter is always a pleasant one. It's very deep, and as Dorian's shoulder is still pressed to Bull's, it jolts Dorian up and down gently as well. He can't help but grin, relaxing minutely at the gentle teasing.

He can do banter. More than that, really. He's very, very good at banter. "I'm sure you would, but I am keen on forgetting it ever happened," he retorts, loftily though his smile is obvious in the words.

He hums non-noncommittally when Bull says he crossed a line, unwilling to actually tell him whether that is true or not. He arches an eyebrow at what comes next, not particularly enjoying the idea of being lumped with the rest of the other 'Bas'. "Ah, yes. We're all the same to you, aren't we? Us Bas and our odd little customs."

Bull scratches at his chin, realizing he's stepped in it again. "Ah. No? Some of it's just humans and their odd little customs. Not sure how dwarves feel about sexual hangups but I do know they have different ones than humans do. Elves, for better or for worse, have many of the same hangups as humans. I don't know any Tal-Vashoth," that are still alive, "but maybe they're as upfront about sex as Qunari. Very well, I retract my statement. How would a scholar put it? 'Non-qunariform' beings have the weirdest ideas about sex and privacy."

Dorian sighs again, a little dramatically, nudging Bull's shoulder with his own. "Some scholar, you make," he remarks blithely, though there is no actual anger in the words. He'll address Bull's concern, though, taking a few seconds to think about it.

"Privacy matters, yes. After all, one hardly wishes for his most private affairs to be exposed to the sight of everyone," he states, not exactly answering Bull's previous query but providing some insight nonetheless. Yes, 'non-qunariform' beings tend to prefer to keep private matters private. And Dorian, who grew up having to hide who he was and what he liked from most everyone, even more so.

"That's what I mean, though. Attaching shame and sin to a natural function between consenting adults - it's weird. I suppose I can understand not wanting it advertised to all and sundry, if you have enemies. But why shouldn't your friends know what you're up to?"

His tone is genuinely curious, because even Krem has not been wholly able to explain it to his satisfaction. If people were less ashamed, blackmail would be substantially less effective.

"I suppose it is," Dorian admits, readily enough. "And hypocritical. As many customs seem to be, in our human societies," he adds, trying not to sound bitter about it. Bull's questions are genuine enough not to make Dorian uncomfortable and he considers the subject carefully, wondering how to explain.

"There is a difference between not being ashamed of sex and telling your friends all about your wild nights, I rather think," he states, dryly. He turns his head to arch an eyebrow at Bull, though he knows he can't see it. "And the opposite is also true. I do not wish to know what Solas gets up to at nights in that painted room of his, for instance. There is such a thing as oversharing," he adds, a little more pointedly because, well. Bull certainly has before, while Dorian was within earshot.

Bull stares up at the canvas of the tent stretched overhead. His horns make it impossible to turn his head while lying down, and anyway Dorian is on the wrong side to be visible peripherally. Not that he really needs to see Dorian, when he can easily picture the sculpted eyebrow he's getting. He grins.

"Solas? I bet I can guess what gets him all hot under the collar, but you're right, there's no need to think about it right now." It's Fade stuff, of course. Solas is obvious about his interests; most people are, if you're as well-trained at spotting them as Bull is. He'd been right about Dorian's interest, he's sure, just not the shape of it. Or maybe it had been too public for the 'Vint to react in line with his actual feelings instead of his definition of what was proper.

"What kind of things would you share with a friend?" Bull asked. Krem tolerates his own stories of conquests, but it's not like Bull goes into minutiae about tastes or smells. The pursuit is of more interest to most of his mercs, Krem included, so he tailors his stories to that, even seeks out more challenging assignations for the story, on occasion. He's not sure if his mercs are more adapted to him or representative of any of their people, though.

Dorian makes a small groaning noise when Bull immediately proceeds to tell him that he can figure out Solas' kinks well enough, nudging him again. "I know you can, but please consider keeping that to yourself," he answers, sounding amused nonetheless because he can tell Bull is grinning.

(And Fade stuff, of course. Because nothing is sexier than a desire demon trying to possess you.)

The question makes Dorian lean up on an elbow, considering the sharp outline of Bull's profile though he can't see much of his features in the dark. Which means Bull can't see him either, which is perhaps a blessing.

"With a close friend," he says, slowly, "I would share tales of banter and seduction. Naughty innuendo." Dorian's voice is very prim as he adds, "covert allusions to the size of certain relevant body parts."

Bull has better eyesight than a human in the dim relief of a thick canvas backlit by banked campfire. Not so good as an elf's, of course, but enough to see Dorian has shifted up and is eyeing him.

"I suppose it would be - what's that Orlesian word? Gauche to say anything too obvious. Vints like their metaphors and layered speech and triple innuendos." Not that Bull is oblivious to the joys of wordplay, he does have a penchant for puns, after all.

"And how would you seduce someone you fancied?" He asked curiously. Couldn't hurt to get tips from the source, right?

Bull's pronunciation of that Orlesian word makes Dorian chuckle, rather fondly. "Gauche is one word for it, yes," he answers, amused. He won't bristle at being called a 'Vint, as the word is spoken without the usual spite and contempt usually lacing it. "That we do," he confirms instead, lightly.

He hums, resting his chin onto his palm and closing his eyes in the dim light. "Well, that would have to depend on the person, wouldn't it?" It's a way to elude the question but also fairly true, in Dorian's opinion. Seduction, not unlike espionage, is about gauging your target and deciding what will be most effective.

"Well let's start with who you'd try to seduce, then," Bull purrs. "Do you have a type, Altus Pavus?" Also valuable information, for Bull's purposes anyway. He offers up his own answer freely, to inspire cooperation:

"I like a little bit of everything, personally, but I do have a fondness for redheads. It's a rare hair color in Qunari, so it has that exotic element to it. Even Viddathari are mostly Northerners; darker complected peoples."

The fact that Bull remembered Dorian's lecture about the difference between a Magister and an Altus and cared enough to use the right title is oddly touching. He snorts when Bull admits to liking 'a little bit of everything', and asks Dorian what his preferences are. There is a very simple answer to that question, and several more complex ones. Dorian will give neither.

"You're asking a lot of questions, Qunari," he settles on answering, though he doesn't sound hostile. "Will you be reporting my answers to the Qun later on?"

Edited Date: 2018-12-16 01:53 am (UTC)

Bull considers how best to respond to that. "There's a lot I don't report to the Qun," he says with a shrug of his massive shoulders, brushing up against Dorian's bedroll. "Why, do you think they'd be interested in how to get in those tight pants of yours?" he teases.

Dorian snorts, falling back onto his bedroll and frowning at tent above him. "Not as such, I suppose. But I do think they'd be interested to know why Altus Pavus, the only scion of house Pavus of Minrathous, abruptly left his estate and came to freeze his ass off in Ferelden instead of staying and taking his father's seat in the Magisterium as everyone expected him to." There is some bitterness in Dorian's tone, hidden behind the sarcastic lilt of his words, though it's not directed at Bull.

"Mm. I believe the general assumption is there was a massive fight between you and Magister Pavus," Bull says idly, as though it doesn't matter to him whether Dorian clears up any perceived misconception. The Pavuses - Pavi? - were known to have similar politics, but that didn't mean they got along all the time. And 'Vints really did have strange ideas about sex, beliefs Dorian didn't necessarily align with, to judge by his lingering looks to male musculature.

Dorian huffs at the words, crossing his arms over his chest though he knows Bull can't see it. He doesn't particularly care to go into the details of what happened (he trusts very few people enough to actually tell them), but he won't try to deny it, either. "I suppose you could say that," he says, wryly. "And given your previous line of inquiry, I'm assuming you can guess why."

Adoribull thread!

Custom Text

Page Summary

Expand Cut Tags

Style Credit