Entry tags:
Anywhere I would have followed you // closed
Who: the Iron Bull
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.
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.

no subject
"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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
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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."