Sisters of Tevinter

Usually

    Bull leaned over his stein, rubbing his forehead with a soft exhale. He was tired, the mead burned and left his head buzzing as usual, but it wasn't enough to soothe the itch. He had no idea what the itch was for this time, and it pinged around in his skull like a stubborn insect. In the tavern that was just beginning to be finished-- oh, Jor was going to love it, it was for her Inquisition after all-- The Iron Bull had settled in his usual chair. Krem was chatting with Eadrik a little to his left, standing on his seat and vividly retelling one of the Chargers' more impressive feats. Something about the Free Marches. Bull was too distracted to try to remember. 

     The elf was grinning, sitting on the cobblestone floor with a mug in his lap as he looked up to watch Krem jab at the air. The itch was coming back again. Irritated, Bull finished off the dregs of his mug, leaning back in his chair. Would you just relax? What is that? 

      It wasn't for more drink, it wasn't for a night's company- he was very familiar with those urges. Usually they could be satisfied no problem. This was different. A voice almost-- and it wouldn't shut up. Bull closed his eye, searching his memory for something that could've set this off. He felt antsy, unable to sit still without starting to feel too warm or squirmy. The itch wasn't... painful, just nagging. That voice, the flash of a few images, the memory of touching something but what? 

      He steered his thoughts away. Maybe it would come to him in time. Hell, it would probably hit him like a hammer to the gut in the morning. For now, drink. It would be alright. It usually was. 

      Fighting. That must be it. He wanted to hit something again, hear the satisfying crack of bone and sinew, the steady jolt of force and block. That had to be it. But this felt... different. Not by much, but different. His thoughts wandered back along the path. So much had happened in so little time. Skyhold was great and all, but it was a shame about Haven. It was smaller-- less easily defended, but homier. This place reeked of magic. It didn't seem dangerous, his instincts would have had him hightailing it by now if it did, but it seemed to resonate with only a choice few. 

       Speaking of losing Haven... now that had been a rush. Those crystal monster things? Really fun to split open. Their insides were as glittery and gross as their outsides. Then the avalanche. Oh, poor Jor. The qunari smiled slightly to himself. One lucky bitch. 

      When that archdemon landed... he really thought she was done for. He remembered carrying her so well. Her tiny form tucked against his chest, her weight slight and steady in his arms. She'd been so pale, her lips tinged with blue, snowflakes wreathing her hair like a veil of pearls. It had surprised him how much he'd worried when she didn't catch up to them as snow swallowed Haven. Red had been a wreck. 

    But he hadn't realized he'd feel so... hollowed out when she was gone. He'd gotten used to her hanging around, always a step behind or ahead, laughing or saying something smart. When she'd shown up in the snow, the warmth in his chest almost made him forget he'd been freezing his ass off. Holding her had been a relief too. Knowing she was there, feeling her breath, it had taken a lot of prodding from Cassandra and that chantry chick to make him hand her over.

      The itch was a little like that, he thought, leaning his head against the warm wood of the wall. That hollow feeling of worry. But not the same, there was no grief to it, no loss this time. He thanked whatever gods were listening for that.  He thought of when he'd found her on the battlements, doing her quiet stretching and strange meditative thing. She'd looked all bothered and cold, she'd even been shaking a little. Something was bugging her these days, he'd noticed every hesitation since Redcliffe. 

       Not that she shouldn't be bugged, this Inquisitor shit was hard work. 

       What time is it? Bull opened his eye to glance out the window. It was dark. Really dark. Snow dusted the ground of the courtyard, firelight glowed from within the windows of the fortress. She was in there somewhere. Maybe he should ask... Ask what? Hey, you got all squirrelly last I saw you. What's up? 

       He shook his head slightly. No. Besides, they hadn't really spoken since the Oasis. Those things Solas had said... Bull gritted his teeth. What did the elf know? Freedom was a pretty illusion, a shiny lure that didn't exist. No one really had free will. It was simpler to follow orders. He knew that. He knew because that's what he'd been taught when he'd turned himself in to be Fixed. Not that it mattered. Jor seemed pissed with both of them after that, though he'd heard she'd been spending more time with the mage. 

       She liked to learn things. Wasn't that just something. She liked to read and talk and make things. To create. The elf liked to teach, the prick. Bull smiled ruefully and went to take another sip of mead before remembering his stein was empty. He sighed and set aside the mug. He'd probably had enough anyway. 

      "Chief?" Krem was looking at him, sitting down now, legs crossed. "What's up?" 

      "Nothing. You're just a really bad storyteller." Bull allowed himself a grin he didn't feel. 

      Krem scoffed. Eadrik laughed, his pretty almond eyes softening. "I think you're great." 

      His lieutenant flushed a steady rose as blood rushed to his face. Bull chuckled. "Get a room already. I'm tired of watching you two dance around each other like dogs in heat."

     Now it was Eadrik's turn to blush. "Oh." 

     Krem ran a hand through his sheaf of dark hair, staring at the ceiling. Bull rose. "I'm going to bed. You two figure it out." He ruffled Krem's hair, none too gently, and disappeared out of the tavern and into the snow. The itch persisted.