Honey and Ink [Dragon Age: Inquisition]

Wax and Wane

—TW: Angst, gore, character injury (non-serious)—

"Hold still, Dorian," Lyric growled, a final warning.

     "I'd like to see you keep still with one of these bloody spikes up your arse," he shot back, yelling to be heard over the ravenous scrape and rattle of demonic activity around them. Dorian had dragged himself supine out of the action, having been hit in the thigh by some sort of jagged projectile. He leaned now against a half-crumbled wall, panting. The village of Sahrnia had been co-opted by demons, and with them came a wake of devastation, decimating the brick-and-mortar buildings that lined the narrow streets.

     "Uh, Boss—" Iron Bull shouted over his shoulder, swinging his mighty greataxe clean through the spindly form of a demon with ease, as though it were a knife running through butter. But more demons still were clambering towards him. "—I don't know how much longer we can hold them off!"

     "Mythal's tits," Lyric hissed, spitting out the worst curse she could come up with, her hands moving in a hurried blur. Dorian groaned as she skillfully removed the spine from his thigh with a sickly squelch. She tossed it aside, pulling the cork from a potion with her teeth as she did so. Pouring half the liquid directly into the wound, which was now spurting a little as the blood rose to fill the void, Lyric put the vial with the last of their healing elixir into Dorian's hand. He downed it dutifully.

     "Die!" came Cassandra's mighty warcry from behind a bloodied nose, as she drove her weapon into the heart of a desperation demon. She put the full force of her weight behind the movement, and her sword splintered the creature with a twisted crack. Vanquished, the demon disintegrated into green smoke that the Fade greedily sucked back.

     "Now's your chance, Boss!" Bull warned, and Lyric looked up at the rift. It was churning, manifesting its crystalline spikes, hissing the way it did right before it opened just a little wider— and that meant more demons.

     "Stay here," Lyric ordered, springing to her feet and gripping her staff.

     "Go, go!" Dorian urged, waving off her concern with his free hand. He pressed his back against the wall, hiding himself from view as best he could. Lyric dashed towards the centre of the action, hand raised. Just a little closer... closer... NOW!

     She reached out with the mark, feeling the magnetic pull of Fade magic being tamed under her will. The first time she did this, she thought her hand might be torn off, doomed to drift through the Fade forever. But now she found it exhilarating. A mad rush of power ran through her as she flung her hand back to create the seal, snapping it closed as though she were pulling on some cosmic drawstring. As the rift finally closed with a deafening zap, Iron Bull whooped.

     "DID YOU FUCKING SEE THAT!?" the warrior positively roared, fueled by the adrenaline of battle— he was a mighty reaver howling at the sky he had conquered. Cassandra, on the other hand, was bent over with her hands on her knees, spitting out bits of blood between deep and steadying breaths.

     "That was far too close," she panted.

     "Dorian," Lyric said, turning to sprint back in the direction she'd come.

     Her friend was sitting up, weakly, his face a little pale. He was holding his linen cowl over the wound and throwing up a sheepish wave as his companions rounded the corner. Lyric was on her knees at his side in an instant.

     "Does it hurt?" The answer to Lyric's question seemed obvious, but it was important for her to know, as she was well aware by now how blood loss and shock could dull pain in a dangerous way. She lifted the fabric from the wound and sucked a breath in with a hiss. It was a puncture wound, alright.