Sisters of Tevinter

Hands

     It was late afternoon, bordering evening when everyone finally left her alone. No more papers to sign, no more hands to shake, no more 'congratulations' and no more declined invitations for drinks. 

      Jor was sitting, spine straight, eyes closed, in the light of the sinking sun. The wind was cold, but she didn't care. She'd left her coat and scarf in the War Room, she couldn't get out of there fast enough. There was this sickening ache in her chest that wouldn't go away-- poison that had yet to be sucked from the wound. 

        Inquisitor Trevelyan. 

       Jor scowled and sat up a little straighter, cupping her palms to the back of her skull to flex her aching shoulders. She breathed. It was all she could do to settle the poison. What if I fail? She took another breath, gritting her teeth. WhatifIfailwhatifIfailwhatifIfail?

       It hurt. It ached. Weight, poison, oxygen searing the inside of her lungs like unforgiving steel and fire. Her world spun, reeling. She had decisions to make, people to find, people to kill, a supposed god to rid the world of, and-- Heaven help her-- draperies to choose. Her body wracked with anxiety. What if she slipped up? What if she opened her big mouth and ruined some kind of alliance? What if the mages decided she was foolish and lacked the knowledge to lead them?

       She couldn't save Haven, what in hell made them think she could save lives? To tear apart a forming cult, to prevent assassinations and undertakings from another time she wasn't even sure would happen, because she'd already been there. Blood. Blood everywhere on the green stone. That sickening damp thud of flesh on rock on blood. Blood was everywhere. 

       Jor shuddered, taking another desperate gulp of burning oxygen. She kept her eyes sealed shut, afraid to open them and see that horrible hall again, the doors slamming open, that massive thing throwing her companions at her feet. So much blood. 

     She took another breath, slowly stretching her hands over her head and leaning forward over her legs, bowing across the stone, her haunches cold and taut against the battlements. She breathed. She could only breathe. 

 "Hey, boss. You uh... You and the rocks having a moment or...?" 

 A flash of irritation seared through Jor with surprising clarity. She didn't move. "Hi, Bull." 

 "Hi. You look great and all from this angle, but I came to check and make sure you weren't having a seizure or anything." 

   Jor gritted her teeth. "You can't see me from the ground." 

    "Unfortunately no, but a little birdie told me you'd be here." 

   "Kaisen knows me too well." 

    "Solas. He says you like high places." 

   "Solas would make a very interesting bird." 

    Bull gave a hearty chuckle. Jor heard the rustle of cloth and leather as he leaned against the wall behind her. "A vulture maybe. Bald and quiet with a stick up his ass." 

    "Vultures are incredibly useful avians." Jor let the tension drain from her shoulders, slowly becoming grateful for a voice besides the one in her head to cling to in the moment. The uncoiling of vertebrae resounded with several loud clicks. 

  "Yikes. You got metal under there?" 

   "Not much to cover it." Just a loose brown tunic. Jor sighed and pressed her sit bones into the stone to slowly sit up, tucking her core close to her pelvis. She opened her eyes to face the arcs of gold and rose that shimmered over the snowcapped mountains, turning the sky to melting sugar.

   "I'm itching for action. It's been five days. I watch the soldiers poke at each other with their toothpicks and I start to weep for the future." Bull followed the scholar's gaze. 

   "I promise to take you on the next caravan to hell," Jor murmured bitterly, not looking forward to any other outings or tasks or quests of any kind. 

  Bull snorted. Jor could feel him grinning. "That would work. Or you could come spar with me."

   Jor barked out a laugh. Bull was silent. "Oh my god you're serious." 

   "Yeah." The qunari gave an elaborate shrug. "You look like you could use a good high yourself. If you prefer, I could go flirt with the Seeker some more and get a punch to the nose for my trouble." 

  Jor bit her tongue. "As entertaining as that would be, your offer intrigues me. If I'm getting the crap kicked out of me by you, no one else will ask me to have dinner with them or bless their children." 

   Bull snickered. "They knew you wouldn't like this." 

   "They?" A feral grin tugged at Jor's mouth, bitter with barely leashed outrage. 

   "You didn't have to say yes, you know. I wouldn't've thought any less of you." 

   "Yes but you're..." Jor sighed, flexing her fists as she tried to find the words. There was a strained moment of silence. The scholar blew out a heavy breath. "Swords or hands?" 

     Bull grinned. "Come on. We can decide when we get down from here. Say goodnight to the view and follow me." The qunari turned and descended the steps into the courtyard. 

      Soldiers were changing their shifts, climbing ladders to take up watch posts on the walls. Inside, lamps and lanterns were being lit. The courtyard was already bathed in the dim glow of twilight and the warm gleam  from the massive window along the main body of the fortress.

     Bull lead her along the light to a secluded area around a cornerstone in the wall system. Racks of weapons and wooden dummies were set along the stone. "Well? Swords or hands?" he queried, echoing her earlier question as he absently picked up a tall, heavy war hammer that looked like it could split Jor bodily in two. 

     She grimaced, rubbing her wrists. "Am I allowed to shy away from anything that would grind me into pulp?" 

     "I could do that myself." Bull laughed and cocked his head to one side. "But if you insist." He set down the hammer. "Hands it is."