"I saw the effects of that political turmoil first-hand. It wasn't good." He knows that Bull doesn't much like to hear about the magic involved in that incident, and not even Dorian can blame him for that. But Dorian has told him more than once the details of the future he'd seen. The one thing he hasn't talked much with him about is the Bull he'd met there--imprisoned for a year, infected by red lyrium, ready to die fighting. He hadn't known Bull then, had barely spoken to him before. These days, remembering it makes him feel ill and slightly murderous. If he wasn't already holding the Bull's hand, he'd have reached for it now.
"Vivienne, certainly," Dorian agrees more lightly. "But you really think the Inquisitor would choose to bring along a Tevinter pariah to Empress Celene's soiree?" He and the Inquisitor are close, true, and perhaps she would want him there for support. But surely one of her advisers would see what a poor image that would present and counsel her against it. "Even if I am the best authority present on fine wine, food, literature, high society, and parties potentially involving political assassination," he adds.
But he certainly won't turn down such an opportunity if he is chosen. A suitable outfit will most certainly be required. "And you?" He can't help but tease. "Will I witness Madame de Fer force you into a shirt and jacket at last?"
"Are you kidding? The Orlesians will eat the scandal up. It's not their scandal, after all," he says of Dorian's presence at the ball. "You're an obvious choice. Not only do you know how court intrigue works, but you'll command attention. You'll be a focal point of gossip and intrigue yourself. People will thrill themselves by engaging you in conversation. The fallen Tevinter scion and close adviser to the Inquisitor."
Bull considers the suggestion that he might be in the party chosen to go. There are benefits to his presence, of course: Bull knows Orlais and the nobility remarkably well. He has information and contacts that could be useful throughout their investigation. He's good in a fight and he's good at improvising. And more than anything, Bull knows how to gather information.
But he also stands out like a sore thumb, head and shoulders above everyone else and twice as broad as most of them.
"I'm not a shoe-in," he says quietly. "Too big and obvious. Be hell to tailor something to fit me. I've got useful skills but ultimately they need to decide if the benefits outweigh everything else."
Never mind that Bull knows how to disappear in a room, despite being massive.
"Well, if you put it that way, I'll be the most popular guest in attendance," Dorian laughs, and makes a show of drawing himself up, self-important. He can't imagine he'll be so well received as all that, but Bull's perspective is encouraging, at least. He'd rather be a walking scandal than completely ignored. "I suppose it remains to be seen if I'll be given that chance."
He'd like to come along anyway, even if he isn't to go to the party itself. Orlais is Orlais, but it is the closest he'll get to civilized society here in the south.
"Nonsense," he insists of Bull's dismissal of his own chances. "You've made a career of being obvious, and your insight would be invaluable. You've probably done jobs for many of these nobles already, and have information on them that might prove useful to the Inquisition. Plus, the perspective of a skilled spy at the event itself--"
It occurs to him that he's going on about Bull's virtues, which is hardly typical for him. But Bull is so very competent at what he does that Dorian can't imagine leaving him behind for a crucial venture such as this one.
"Perhaps we'll both go," Dorian suggests with some warm amusement. "To balance one another out. And fear not, Bull; I hear Madame de Fer's tailors are the very best in southern Thedas. Surely something could be made to fit even your measurements." Some curious part of Dorian has to wonder what those measurements actually are.
"You just want to see Madam de Fer and Josephine force me into something they deem appropriate for court," he says with a dry smile Dorian's way. It's strange, but not unpleasant, to hear the mage touting his virtues.
His thumb brushes along Dorian's tenderly before he lets go of his hand; the door to Josephine's office opens and Bull is paying keen attention, even if his posture doesn't shift otherwise. The masks hide minute expressions but they don't hide body language or tone of voice if he can hear.
Bull narrows his eye slightly.
"They left something with Josephine," he says quietly, definitively.
Leliana appears from nowhere to sweep across the hall and into Josephine's office; the door promptly shuts again.
"You can't deny that it would be amusing." Dorian's lips quirk up at the corners. "She'll have to buy yards upon yards of expensive fabric to cover that expansive chest of yours." As Bull releases his hand, he lets go of Bull's as well, withdrawing as the Qunari's attention turns back toward the door. He misses it immediately, but he doesn't need it.
He's amazed, truly, by how much information Bull can glean from so little evidence. The Orlesians take their leave, and Dorian would have thought little of it but for Bull's commentary. If they've left something with Josephine, it means they'll be getting their invitations after all.
Dorian's gaze follows Leliana as she crosses the hall quick as a shadow, disappearing behind the door. Bards.
"Then it means she knows that you've been watching, too," Dorian points out. "Though I suppose she must expect that." His fingers, no longer curled around Bull's, drum against the table. "They'll make the announcement soon, I'd wager. Everyone will need time to prepare. Which means..." He grins, elated. "A visit to Val Royeaux is in order." A proper city, at last.
Bull chuckles quietly when Dorian mentions Val Royeaux. "I think you'll talk your way into coming even if the Inquisitor ends up thinking it's a bad idea," he says as he gives the mage a fond look.
The door opens and Leliana comes out again. Bull makes eye contact with her as she crosses the hall to head back to her tower. Leliana knows who he is and what he does; he knows the same about her. The only difference is the slight advantage Bull has in knowing Qunari ciphers and codes and Qunlat.
He likes her, though. She's a challenge and she keeps him on his toes.
"You're probably right," Dorian agrees with confidence. "As you well know, I can talk my way into nearly anything."
He reaches for Bull's tankard again and drinks far more than he should probably be allotted, because he knows that Bull won't care. The Bull would let him drink his beer all evening if he had a mind to, with only a playful word of rebuke. He's delightfully easy-going that way.
"Did you know that this would happen tonight?" It occurs to Dorian that the answer is probably yes. Likely, Bull had noticed the dignitaries arrive at Skyhold earlier, and anticipated the meeting. It certainly explains why Bull kept his schedule open enough today to fit in an afternoon romp.
"Leliana had a few letters," he says absently. "So did Josephine. The boss has been concerned about this potential assassination since you saw the results of it. But I noticed that the delegation had arrived and expected they'd be meeting this afternoon."
So he camped out in the great hall to watch the comings and goings like plenty of other people do throughout the day.
"And to think," Dorian murmurs, "when we first became acquainted, I thought you a common brute." Perhaps not so basic as that, knowing about Bull's position with the Ben-Hassrath. Still, even when he'd been afraid of Bull--afraid that Bull would turn on him specifically, for being a Tevinter altus, perhaps--he'd not given him nearly enough credit. "I know better now. You may be a brute, but you are a singularly intelligent one."
It's telling, probably, that he very much wants to lean up and kiss Bull's cheek, brimming with admiration and affection. He resists that compulsion, and instead offers, "I have several hours more to spare. If you intend to spend the evening here, I'll keep you company."
Bull gives Dorian a very fond smile. "I'd like that company," he admits. "Bet I can get someone to bring us food here."
They are sitting at table and Bull has seen meals served here now that the kitchens in Skyhold are up and running. Bull is hoping, if he plays his cards right, he'll be able to woo Dorian back to bed with him by the end of the evening. He likes sharing a bed with the mage and he knows now for sure that Dorian enjoys it, too. Why deny themselves that comfort?
"I know you can," Dorian laughs, because he's seen Bull do it before.
They share a meal there, and after, Dorian doesn't even make a fuss about accompanying Bull to his room. They walk across the battlements together, talking and trading gentle barbs, close enough that their arms brush. The wind is cold, biting through Dorian's robes, but Bull is there to block the worst of it.
And after they fuck--again, for the second time that day--Dorian fits himself against Bull's body (huge and warm, rough and gentle, capable of making him feel sated and desired and cared for like he has never felt before) like he was meant to be there. He lays his head down on Bull's chest, stretches an arm across his soft middle, and sleeps more soundly than he has in weeks.
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"Vivienne, certainly," Dorian agrees more lightly. "But you really think the Inquisitor would choose to bring along a Tevinter pariah to Empress Celene's soiree?" He and the Inquisitor are close, true, and perhaps she would want him there for support. But surely one of her advisers would see what a poor image that would present and counsel her against it. "Even if I am the best authority present on fine wine, food, literature, high society, and parties potentially involving political assassination," he adds.
But he certainly won't turn down such an opportunity if he is chosen. A suitable outfit will most certainly be required. "And you?" He can't help but tease. "Will I witness Madame de Fer force you into a shirt and jacket at last?"
no subject
Bull considers the suggestion that he might be in the party chosen to go. There are benefits to his presence, of course: Bull knows Orlais and the nobility remarkably well. He has information and contacts that could be useful throughout their investigation. He's good in a fight and he's good at improvising. And more than anything, Bull knows how to gather information.
But he also stands out like a sore thumb, head and shoulders above everyone else and twice as broad as most of them.
"I'm not a shoe-in," he says quietly. "Too big and obvious. Be hell to tailor something to fit me. I've got useful skills but ultimately they need to decide if the benefits outweigh everything else."
Never mind that Bull knows how to disappear in a room, despite being massive.
no subject
He'd like to come along anyway, even if he isn't to go to the party itself. Orlais is Orlais, but it is the closest he'll get to civilized society here in the south.
"Nonsense," he insists of Bull's dismissal of his own chances. "You've made a career of being obvious, and your insight would be invaluable. You've probably done jobs for many of these nobles already, and have information on them that might prove useful to the Inquisition. Plus, the perspective of a skilled spy at the event itself--"
It occurs to him that he's going on about Bull's virtues, which is hardly typical for him. But Bull is so very competent at what he does that Dorian can't imagine leaving him behind for a crucial venture such as this one.
"Perhaps we'll both go," Dorian suggests with some warm amusement. "To balance one another out. And fear not, Bull; I hear Madame de Fer's tailors are the very best in southern Thedas. Surely something could be made to fit even your measurements." Some curious part of Dorian has to wonder what those measurements actually are.
no subject
His thumb brushes along Dorian's tenderly before he lets go of his hand; the door to Josephine's office opens and Bull is paying keen attention, even if his posture doesn't shift otherwise. The masks hide minute expressions but they don't hide body language or tone of voice if he can hear.
Bull narrows his eye slightly.
"They left something with Josephine," he says quietly, definitively.
Leliana appears from nowhere to sweep across the hall and into Josephine's office; the door promptly shuts again.
"Hm. Red's been watching, too."
no subject
He's amazed, truly, by how much information Bull can glean from so little evidence. The Orlesians take their leave, and Dorian would have thought little of it but for Bull's commentary. If they've left something with Josephine, it means they'll be getting their invitations after all.
Dorian's gaze follows Leliana as she crosses the hall quick as a shadow, disappearing behind the door. Bards.
"Then it means she knows that you've been watching, too," Dorian points out. "Though I suppose she must expect that." His fingers, no longer curled around Bull's, drum against the table. "They'll make the announcement soon, I'd wager. Everyone will need time to prepare. Which means..." He grins, elated. "A visit to Val Royeaux is in order." A proper city, at last.
no subject
The door opens and Leliana comes out again. Bull makes eye contact with her as she crosses the hall to head back to her tower. Leliana knows who he is and what he does; he knows the same about her. The only difference is the slight advantage Bull has in knowing Qunari ciphers and codes and Qunlat.
He likes her, though. She's a challenge and she keeps him on his toes.
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He reaches for Bull's tankard again and drinks far more than he should probably be allotted, because he knows that Bull won't care. The Bull would let him drink his beer all evening if he had a mind to, with only a playful word of rebuke. He's delightfully easy-going that way.
"Did you know that this would happen tonight?" It occurs to Dorian that the answer is probably yes. Likely, Bull had noticed the dignitaries arrive at Skyhold earlier, and anticipated the meeting. It certainly explains why Bull kept his schedule open enough today to fit in an afternoon romp.
no subject
So he camped out in the great hall to watch the comings and goings like plenty of other people do throughout the day.
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It's telling, probably, that he very much wants to lean up and kiss Bull's cheek, brimming with admiration and affection. He resists that compulsion, and instead offers, "I have several hours more to spare. If you intend to spend the evening here, I'll keep you company."
no subject
They are sitting at table and Bull has seen meals served here now that the kitchens in Skyhold are up and running. Bull is hoping, if he plays his cards right, he'll be able to woo Dorian back to bed with him by the end of the evening. He likes sharing a bed with the mage and he knows now for sure that Dorian enjoys it, too. Why deny themselves that comfort?
no subject
They share a meal there, and after, Dorian doesn't even make a fuss about accompanying Bull to his room. They walk across the battlements together, talking and trading gentle barbs, close enough that their arms brush. The wind is cold, biting through Dorian's robes, but Bull is there to block the worst of it.
And after they fuck--again, for the second time that day--Dorian fits himself against Bull's body (huge and warm, rough and gentle, capable of making him feel sated and desired and cared for like he has never felt before) like he was meant to be there. He lays his head down on Bull's chest, stretches an arm across his soft middle, and sleeps more soundly than he has in weeks.