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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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.

"Not in the way he does it, no," Dorian says, with some grudging respect in his voice. He doesn't get on with Solas very well, but he has to admit that the way he handles his magic is impressive. "If you were an amateur however, then yes, you might create Rifts big enough to be a problem." He sighs. "Especially these days when the Veil is so thin already."

"That's another thing I don't get. You and Solas say that a lot but what does it mean? Demons are easier to summon, Rifts are more likely to appear, some fucked up dreams for those of us who do, something else entirely? All of the above?"

The demonwolves in the Hinterlands still upset Bull to think about, even months later. He'd never realized demons could possess animals (he had heard about Lord Woolsley only after that misadventure) and it had scared him badly. Animals didn't, as a rule, have magic. And if animals without magic could be possessed, couldn't sentients? It might be less likely but it wasn't impossible, was it?

He didn't like that thought at all. Especially with the thinness of the Veil being a topic of such frequent remark.

Dorian says silent for a few seconds, trying to read Bull's tone. He doesn't really have a reassuring answer for him, unfortunately, as the situation they are living is completely unprecedented, and most of what he thought he knew about the Fade had been disproved.

"All of the above, I suppose," he answers, carefully. "And more. It worries you, doesn't it?" he asks, quietly. "Is it the idea that you might one day become an abomination yourself?" He keeps his tone gentle because, well. He understands.

Bull's fists clench, but he loosens up with the ease of long practice. "Saw a lot of things on Seheron. To my knowledge, all the Abominations were mages. Never even occurred to me that that might not be the case.

"How do you - I mean, it's easy to fight something. See demon, smash demon. But how do you - how does anyone avoid possession? It can't be purely a matter of willpower, can it?" Because he has met plenty of mages now, through the Inquisition. Not many are like Dorian or Ma'am or even Solas, confident and self-assured and implacable. If willpower alone was all that worked, Circles would be overflowing with Abominations, surely.

"Mages are at a much higher risk of being possessed, yes," Dorian answers, quietly. "It comes with being so close to the Fade, both as we dream and as we use magic." He's seen non-magic beings get possessed, however. Animals, corpses, even trees. They weren't strictly speaking abominations, still. He reaches out to touch Bull's arm, gently.

"It can be a matter of willpower, yes. Of self-discipline. In the end, it often comes down to seeing through the demon's lies and not believing what they will tell you. Demons always try to tempt you with what you want most. I suppose being happy with who you are and what you have would make you fairly impervious to possession." He sighs, shrugging. "Baring that, fear of the Templars also works, I assume, especially in the Circles."

"I think I'm a pretty well-adjusted guy, but damn. I don't envy mages that headache." He tries not to think about what is done to saarebas, as a general rule. It's...inconvenient to wonder what the rate of possession is under the Qun versus outside of it.

It's beyond inconvenient, to imagine Dalish or Dorian being broken into the shape the Qun prefers of its mages. Not that they would be - bas saarebas are almost universally given qamek to become viddath-bas. That is almost more painful to imagine.

The Qun isn't for everybody, Bull has long believed this. But only coming out into the world beyond the Qun, beyond Tevinter and the war, has convinced him that mages are people, not tools.

"Tell me something happier," he says suddenly, far from his most graceful segue. If he's ever going to sleep tonight he needs to talk about something else.

Dorian hums, not unsympathetically. He leaves his hand on Bull's arm comfortingly, turning his head to look at him at the request. It's so unlike Bull to ask for something like this, so blatantly showing emotion, that Dorian doesn't even think about denying him, launching into the harmless story of how Sera once tried to steal his mustache-styling supplies and pretended it was for Blackwall when she got caught. His tale grows more and more dramatic as he builds it up, the sound of his voice musical with good humour.

"... and that was the end of it," he concludes, chuckling a little at his own story.

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