pompouspeacock | Adoribull thread!

December 2018

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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.

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"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."

"Ah. So he has different ideas about sex and appropriate behavior, then." Bull makes a mournful little sighing sound. "That's...regrettable. Do you - did you have anyone looking out for you, back then? I imagine an altus cut off from his resources would be in a lot of trouble."

Regrettable is one word for it. Dorian won't mock Bull's attempt at sympathy, still, because he does appreciate it.

"I did and do still have friends in Tevinter, yes. And I'm not exactly helpless on my own either, as you might have noticed," he answered honestly, a little teasing slipping back into his tone. Not that running away from home had been easy, mind you, but Dorian's options had been limited.

Bull makes a humming, purr-growl sound, somewhere between awe and arousal. "Yeah, I have noticed. That thing you do - the Horror spell. Shit am I glad necromancers were rare on Seheron. It was horrible enough all by itself."

The sound sends a shiver down Dorian's spine, one he does not care to examine too closely. "Thank you," he says, suitably flattered. "Most people don't appreciate necromancy for what it is truly worth." Very narrow-minded, in Dorian's opinion. He grows quiet at the mention of Seheron. "So I've heard," he answers, softly.

Bull laughs a little. "It has its uses." It scares him shitless. He has one of two reactions to things he fears: run or interrogate. He has to work with Dorian, so he goes with interrogate. "Wanna tell me about that instead?" He leaves the topic of Seheron alone, because he doesn't have to work with it.

"About necromancy?" Dorian repeats, sounding surprised. It's one thing to deem it useful, and another entirely to wish to know more about it. Most people do not. "Very well. Why not, after all, as it seems I can't sleep."

Get ready for a somewhat verbose tirade about the art of necromancy, Bull, and how it is really, really not about raising the dead, as the uneducated like to believe, and very much about channeling the power of the Fade and its spirits, with a dash of time magic thrown in and no blood magic whatsoever in Dorian's case.

Edited Date: 2018-12-18 12:09 am (UTC)

The Iron Bull listens quietly to Dorian's voice, soaking in knowledge the way he always has, ever since the child-that-was-Ashkaari. He doesn't have magic, of course, so he dissects the theory for weaknesses and strengths, ways to fight more effectively beside Dorian and protect the Inquisition from less scrupulous necromancers.

Beyond the bare facts of the matter, though, Bull soaks in Dorian's passion for his art. "Does using the Fade like that mean necromancy has more in common with Rift magic, then?" Schools of magery are known to him mostly so he can fight them, but drips and drabs of understanding have come to him, working with both Solas and Dorian and comparing them to Vivienne and Dalish and the few Saarebas he has known. A Knight-Enchanter like Vivienne seems to have very little to do with Rift magic or Necromancy.

That's not a bad question and it shows Bull has been paying enough attention to make this interesting parallel, causing Dorian to grin in the darkness. "It bears some similarities to Rift magic, yes, insofar as they both use the Face as a weapon. Rift magic is about tearing a small rift in the face and pulling some energy through, still, whereas Necromancy focuses on summoning spirits from the Fade, which is another matter entirely," he answers, obviously taken with the subject.

"Hmm. I think I understand. Only...how do you avoid summoning demons instead of spirits? Assuming there actually is a difference." Solas would say something about purpose, but Bull is not convinced that any spirit is more than a demon in disguise, or a demon waiting to happen at best.

Of course, he'd thought that about mages for a long time, too. Maybe there are more differences than he understands.

Dorian gives a little snort, amused at the question. Not that it's stupid, it's actually a fairly relevant concern, but because he knows Bull's stance on the matter of spirits and demons. "There is no chance of that," he reassures, slowly. "It is an entirely different spell. Besides, demons are not that easy to summon, and will not to your biding should you try." He pauses and adds, reluctantly. "Unless, of course, you are willing to use blood magic." Which Dorian very much isn't.

"Huh. Why are demons harder to summon? Aren't they supposed to be all about trying to get into our world?"

He leaves the blood magic comment alone, because fuck, he's fought enough demons - and they're plenty scary without being subject to a living person's commands and whims.

Dorian hums, and though this is not his favourite thing to discuss, he's grateful that Bull is willing to ask about small distinctions, instead of broadly rejecting all things connected with Fade magic.

"Oh, they are. They are just much less willing to do your biding," he answers, calmly. "You could summon a demon fairly easily, even more easily so if there is a little bit of the vice their represent within you, but once it is there, it's much more likely to attack you than your enemy, if you do not bind it to your will.

Bull does not shudder, but it's a near thing. "So what Solas does, wouldn't that create Rifts?" That's something that's bothered him for a while, because pulling on the Fade seems incredibly stupid when it's already shredded in places. It's one of the reasons why, outside of their chess games, he mostly avoids talking to Solas.

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