middaeg | Anywhere I would have followed you // closed

aban_aqun and Dorian Pavus

bestdressed
When: Four days after arriving
Where: their cottage
What: feelings
Warnings: feelings; will be updated as necessary

Slowly but surely, Dorian and Bull have been exploring their cottage and attempting to make it feel more like home. Dorian's spent time exploring the clearly magicked platforms and stairs above the house, and Bull-- has watched from the ground, for now. As much as Dorian assures him that it appears entirely stable and unlikely to fall out of the sky, Bull is content to simply trust the magic and not engage with it. For now.

Learning to trust magic has been an on-going process since he left Seheron. Bull likes to think he's made exceptional progress in the past decade or so.

Despite their focus on trying to settle, Bull hasn't forgotten the weight Dorian is carrying: the one that's been on his shoulders since they arrived. The one that's nothing to do with being here.

"Hey, found someone getting rid of these and thought you'd like them," he says when he finds Dorian in their bedroom. Draped across the Bull's arms are gauzy curtains that would look good draped around the bare canopy of the bed.

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With another upward quirk of his lips, Dorian follows suit. The bottle is empty by the time he lowers it. He holds Bull's hand tightly, leans closer to him, and waits.

Before long there's a flicker of something--a tenuous connection, like he's more aware of Bull's presence than usual. It's difficult not to be aware of Bull if he's nearby, but this is quite different. Like there is Bull beside him, holding his hand, but Bull has a place within him as well--and not in the usual way--if he only looks. This comes along with a strange feeling of elation, and rush that flows through him quickly. He tilts his head to look up at Bull with some surprise and something akin to wonder. Perhaps if it were anyone else he would find this unnerving, but it isn't.

"What does it feel like for you?" He wonders, now far more eager than nervous. This is quite a nice feeling, actually, now that it's sinking in.

Bull isn't sure he feels anything at first beyond his anxiety. But soon enough that's covered by a rush of comfortable warmth. He looks at Dorian, watching his expression change and wondering what he feels.

"I can... feel you, I think."

He doesn't know how to put it into words. Bull brushes his thumb along Dorian's fingers and he tries to pay more attention to what's going on inside him. It's like an adrenaline rush, but not like one he's had before. It feels-- nice.

"Yes, I think that must be it," Dorian exclaims, and grasps Bull's hands with both of his own now. He thinks he knows what Bull must be feeling: he's confused and wary and more than a little anxious. Given how well he knows Bull, he'd have been able to tell that even without a magical connection. But with one he thinks he can actually feel it. He can imagine that it must go both ways.

"I'm certain that I can feel you," he says, which is...well, it's a lot to examine. This is deeply intriguing, and he might press Bull for more specifics later, but he doesn't want to push him too hard just yet. They'll both need a little time to get used to it, he thinks. Given the effects of the potion they should have roughly twenty-four hours to determine if this will work for them long-term.

Bull shivers and he tries to sort through what's his and what's Dorian. He's certain the rush of excitement is all Dorian. It doesn't make him feel better, per se, but he does feel-- comforted, in a way. Feeling him so intimately.

He brushes his thumbs over Dorian's hands, staring down between them as he tries to work through all this.

"Do we have to stay much longer?" he asks. He's lost track of what's happening around them and he looks up to see what other pairs are doing. He doesn't let go of Dorian.

Bull is deeply uncomfortable. That's more than apparent, even merely in his posture. Immediately Dorian is compelled to do whatever he can to help.

"I can't imagine we have to," Dorian says consideringly. "I don't think they'll stop us if we want to leave, at any rate." Still clasping Bull's hand in both of his, he raises it up to his lips and presses them briefly to his thick knuckles, reassuring. "Do you want to go home?" To the home they've procured for themselves here, at least. It would be better to process all of this in private, he has to agree.

Bull takes a deep breath and he lets it go slowly. He can't let this get the better of him - being this uncomfortable serves no purpose and, worse, Dorian will feel it. He doesn't want Dorian to feel any of this.

As Dorian kisses his knuckles, Bull leans forward and gently presses his forehead to Dorian's.

"Yes, please," he says quietly. He wants familiar walls, he wants the place that they've made their own. It's as much a home as they have right now, and as long as Dorian is nearby, he knows he'll be alright. Bull looks momentarily contrite. "I'm sorry," he adds.

"Don't apologize, amatus," Dorian assures, speaking quietly in the negligible space between them, head to head. "I'd much rather do this privately as well." His hands remain curled around Bull's even as he gets slowly to his feet, urging Bull to do the same. "Come. It isn't such a far walk."

Dorian does his best to radiate a sense of calm and caring; the latter isn't difficult, considering how concerned he is for Bull, but he's also more than a little curious as to the extent of the effects they're feeling. Any further research can wait, however, until they're both more settled and comfortable in their quaint little house. Thankfully they'd chosen a cottage fairly near to the Coven--likely the reason, Dorian's begun to suspect, that the enchantment holding the staircase over their roof is so strong. He remains steadfastly at Bull's side as they navigate the halls of the Coven, steering the two of them well out of the path of other people. He chats about what he's heard about the upcoming festivities this month, about the moon cycles, about the minimal progress he's been making with his magical studies. The streets outside are wider, and they aren't forced to cross paths with many others before they reach their door.

"How are you?" He asks softly once they're settled more comfortably on the sofa in the front sitting room. He can feel what Bull feels--his prevailing emotions, at least--and so he already has a good idea. But it's no good if he only relies on that; he wants to hear Bull explain it himself.

Bull takes a deep breath and lets it go slowly. He tries to let himself feel the calm that he's certain is Dorian's. It-- feels like Dorian. He couldn't explain how he knows, but he does. He lets Dorian lead him out and he holds one of the mage's hands as they walk.

He listens to Dorian talk, taking comfort in the sound of his voice. Some of the information sticks and some of it passes right through him, but he suspects Dorian isn't talking just to inform.

Something in him begins to unknot when they're through the threshold of their little home. In reality, this place is no safer than any other, but it feels safer. Closed door, walls between them and the rest of the world. Maybe that comfort is an illusion, but he needs it.

Bull settles on the couch and considers his answer. "I'm alright," he says first, whether Dorian believes it or not. "This-- feels like something powerful, even if it's only temporary, and it makes me nervous."

He's trying to articulate for Dorian's sake. Bull's reticence is somewhat famous with those that know him well. He simply doesn't talk about some things, but he feels them deeply and it has been a problem in the past. Bull looks down at their hands, absently tracing Dorian's elegant fingers.

"What if I feel-- too much?" he says after a moment, not really asking Dorian but voicing something that's been on his mind. What if he's in a blind rage? Or what if Dorian actually feels the crippling fear that Bull has made himself work through before? What will it do to Dorian?

"It is powerful," Dorian agrees, quick to assure Bull that his reasoning isn't wrong. "Apparently this sort of Bond is a staple of this world. It's part of how order is kept. It connects the very essence of two people with a long-lasting magical tether. Of course it's powerful." And Bull is perfectly right to be nervous about it. He doesn't want to imply otherwise at all, even if he does think that given the information available, this is the best course of action.

He's glad that Bull is talking, at least. He knows how he is. It's far more characteristic of him to remain silent when he's truly uncomfortable, and Dorian is pleased that he trusts him enough to speak instead. He watches Bull's face, squeezes his fingers gently, and frees one hand to settle it against his upper arm instead, bringing their bodies closer together.

"Then I'll help you," Dorian promises. This is something he feels strongly about; this is the reason he wants to do this in the first place. To help Bull maintain the careful control of himself that he so values, where it might be compromised by factors beyond his ability to contend with. "That is the purpose of the Bond, Bull. I can help to mediate those feelings should you need me to."

Anywhere I would have followed you // closed

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