sixthiterationlogs | one | Dorian and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

WHO: Dorian Pavus
WHERE: Fountain Park
WHEN: 29th
OPEN TO: OTA
WARNINGS: None as of yet. Will update.

Fountain
Dreaming of drowning wasn't uncommon, especially when one was facing an ever-increasing threat with nothing less than the fate of the world hanging in the balance. One could almost say it was expected, even, given the vast pressure all of the Inquisition was under, but it wasn't merely a dream, was it? Even when they'd physically walked the Fade, it was less real than-

Fasta vass! The water burned his eyes as he kicked toward the surface, or at least what he hoped was the surface, as it was far lighter there than behind. He gasped in a relieved breath as he broke free of the water, hands instinctively finding the edge of the fountain and pulling himself free. Having grown up in a port city had its uses, it seemed. The meager clothing he was in clung to his drenched form as he simply took a seat on the edge of the fountain and pulled the weight from his shoulders...a pack it would seem. Then a breeze blew through the square and a deep shiver rippled through his body. The water didn't stay long in his oiled hair, but it ran freezing troughs down his back, forcing him to his feet, the squelch of his water-logged feet in some of the most atrocious boots he'd ever seen pulling a groan from the Tevinter mage. He turned his attention to the pack he'd removed, one thoroughly unfamiliar and certainly not something he'd choose, trying to shake a strange almost hollow feeling that was flooding his limbs. He felt hollow, listless.

Perhaps this was all a terrible nightmare, he'd awaken in his freezing room in Skyhold to the realization his fire had burned too low. That would explain the chill, but that didn't quite feel right. For one, he'd never dreamed this vividly, and even in his nightmares...this was all far too...mundane. Don't mind the dripping man in violet scrubs with the fancy mustache and the moistened but clearly quite stylish hair. He's just going to systematically remove all the items in his pack on a nearby bench until he finds-

"Maker's Breath, a coat!" He wastes no time sliding into that, at least. It wasn't much, but it did something. One step at a time. Marginally warmer, but no closer to answers, he begins to repack that bag he's been provided, though his olive eyes look around regularly, alert to anyone approaching. Something still doesn't feel right, after all, and that hollow, missing feeling was beginning to breed unease.

Inn (South Village) | A bit later
Very few answers to his multitude of questions having made sense, Dorian would like nothing more than to find this library others have mentioned and ready every bit of literature it provided until some clue connected to some other one and so on in the same fashion until the who affair made sense. That adventure, however, would be for another day. His mind was still reeling from the foreignness of it all, and the numb shock of learning his magic was held at bay from him still left his nerves raw. He felt powerless (as he was), exposed, vulnerable and weak. It was unacceptable that whoever or whatever had pulled him here had such a hold over his wellbeing.

Following some sort of routine seemed best as he found a vacant room in the inn, changed into a dry pair of those strange pieces of clothing, violet in color, he'd been provided in the waterproof sack, and made his way down to the common room to dry the rest beside the fire. The slight shake of his hands as he worked, the tenseness in his shoulders, could almost be mistaken as a fault of the chill in the air if it weren't for the way he looked about, jumped at shadows or unexpected sounds. Perhaps the weather had a hand in it, but more than that...Dorian was afraid. Even at his most secluded, hiding for weeks in the Hinterlands hoping for some opportunity to subvert the efforts of his former mentor who'd seemed to have fallen off the proverbial wagon, he'd had his magic with him.

He was dealing with powers beyond his understanding. That was unacceptable, and he didn't have a way to protect himself from them if it were necessary. It was possible the library would provide more answers, and he'd have them, but tonight, he was just hoping to find enough peace of mind to relax a bit, and he'd welcome a friendly face to ward away the gloom, or at least a bit of the fear.

No. Not fear. It's the cold, by the Maker. Just the cold.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I prefer wine, it's true, because I have taste." That and, of course, the climate he hails from lends itself more to the growing of grapes than hops, but be that as it may.

"Very well, then. Once it's prepared, I'll give this brew of yours a taste. We can't have your first batch be a complete failure, after all." That is to say, he's being supportive, of course, and encouraging.

"Good good. ALso it is in the living room of the house so you'll get to know it." He grins a little then he looks Dorian over again. "Damn, I really can't believe you're here."

"Of course you've converted your common room to a brewery." He shakes his head, but there's a fondness in his voice he doesn't try to mask, and at Bull's closer inspection, he cranes his neck to make the view of his impressive jawline more distinct. "I am quite the view, it's true."

"Yeah yeah you are." He lowers his voice until this is something for just the two of them " You want to tell me what is bothering you?"

There it was again, the Bull's uncanny ability to see through his charade, to remind him that's all it was in the first place. He made a frustrated sound and shook his head, diverting his gaze from the Bull's scrutiny.

"Have you heard of others... losing things when they arrive?"

Bull frowns, thinking back to the conversations he'd had with people here. "People say they feel different here than they did before." He eases up when Dorian obviously is uncomfortable, but he reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, letting him know he was there.

Some of the tension eases from Dorian's shoulders at the weight of Bull's hand, but he continues to look down, deeply troubled.

"The Fade must be near. I feel, after all, but...the mana is gone, and with it...all of my magic."

Bull blinks, then he frowns. That was not what he had expected to hear. And he fully understands why Dorian is so uneasy. And it also settles it, Dorian is staying with him. He wants to be able to keep an eye on the former mage. Make sure nobody hurts him.

"Maybe it will come back."

"That feels rather idealistic, Bull," he looks over to the giant of a man then, frowning. "Even for you. Has anyone regained that which they lost here?"

"I believe there are ways to get powers. But I don't think they are long term and I am not sure itis the same as your magic." He sighs. "I am sorry, Dorian."

He scoffed slightly, saddened to be sure, but shaking his head and looking away. It may be one of the most trying ordeals he's ever faced, but very few were going to know exactly how difficult that struggle would be. Knowing the Bull of course, he would be one of them.

"It's no fault of yours, you know. You needn't apologize."

"That was more an 'I am sorry this is happening to you' thing." He shakes his head and gives the shoulder a squeeze. "You're fairly safe here though, these are good people."

"Fairly safe' he says," he shakes his head, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. "It's a hollow comfort, Bull, but I appreciate the thought."

"I know but it is the best I can do. There are plenty of people here who can teach you to fight without magic and as long as I am around I won't let anything happen to you."

That sentiment is more of a comfort than the lummox probably realizes, but he nods. "I can do a bit of fighting without lobbing a fireball, you know."

"I don't doubt it, Dorian. But I want to see you do it anyway. What if some big scary Qunari comes after you."

Dorian knew he was serious, obviously, knew he cared and that he was genuinely concerned for Dorian's wellbeing. He'd never been exceptionally good at graciousness, though, and he smiled one of his less serious smiles.

"Who's to say I wouldn't enjoy that affair?"

"If it wasn't me? What if it was an Arvaarad?" Bull raises an eyebrow at him.

At that, Dorian gave him a gentle, playful shove, thoroughly expecting the lummox not to budge, and he wasn't disappointed.

"You're ruining the imagery. I always imagined I might one day be kidnapped by burly, Qunari pirates."

"I know some pirates if you want. I can put you in touch with them. Even so I want you training."

He crossed his arms and raised his chin at the demand. He fully intended to do just that, of course, but that didn't mean he needed to imply he was simply going along with the Bull's demands.

"Is that so? Are there any other requests you would have me fulfill?"

"Plenty." Bull grins and reaches out place a hand behind Dorian's neck and pull him close. "Most of them involve you being naked though." But then the smiles fade a little. "Does it help if I say please?"

"The lummox has resorted to begging. Whatever shall I do?"

It's all spoken with bravado, a vain attempt to mask the slight gasp of being pulled against him. By now, the brute knows how excited his touch makes the Altus, but he doesn't have to admit it.

Bull just grins at the way Dorian tries to recovers. "You'll do what he tells you too, before he makes you say sir as well."

Oh, how Dorian rose to that challenge, pulling himself up and raising his chin in defiance.

"He wouldn't dare."

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ataashihunter - 2019-01-01 00:34 (UTC) - Expand