for skremisher [completed]

[ben_hassrath]

[ In days following his decision on the hill, Bull had struggled in coming to grips with the implications of what he had done. It had created a crisis of self for the Qunari, as he battled with just what it all had meant. He could no longer pretend to be two people, he had chosen, and that choice had been to remain loyal to the Qun. Bull did not regret this, because regretting the choice would have been disrespectful to the sacrifice his men had made. It hadn't made it any easier to deal with, but he allowed himself time to grieve, and those closest to him had made the process easier.

Now, he feels a whole man. He honors his Chargers by the work he does through the Inquisition, with each Venatori bastard he puts down with his own hands. Sometimes he'll toast to them, with others or on his own, tell (sometimes exaggerated) stories of their escapades as a mercenary band, keeping their memory alive, if only for his own sake. It's what he does to make things feel right.

Tonight, he's in his usual spot in the tavern, keeping to himself for the most part. Usually, he might be telling stories with his companions, or flirting with whoever's tending the bar, but tonight he's content to sit back and watch. He nurses a mug of (regular) ale, letting his mind wander as the bard in the corner plays. It gets easier with every passing day, not having them here with him, but that doesn't mean he likes it. ]

Comments

me right now - http://i.imgur.com/xapScYz.gif

[skremisher]

[And that was it. Krem was silent - and though Bull still felt something hard against his chest, there was no warmth to it. There were no longer arms around his middle, no more fingers clutching at his back.

Raindrops fell onto his shoulders, starting out slow before they grew heavier, beating down on him. Figment of Bull's mind, a spirit, a demon - whatever this had been, it was gone now.

Krem, and the Chargers, were no more.]

to sum things up: http://i.imgur.com/m7Ey7EM.gifv

[ben_hassrath]

[ And just like that, Krem is gone, if he ever was there at all. Bull stands alone in the rain, with nothing, no one, in his arms. He doesn't know how to categorize what he just experienced, if any of it was real. Maybe it wasn't, maybe it was his way of processing his grief, but he chooses to believe otherwise.

It's something he'll keep to himself, maybe one day the Inquisitor will coax it out of him, but for now, it's his and his alone. Bull remains out in the rain, frozen to the spot. Minutes pass that feel like years before he finally moves again. He's heading back into the tavern, with the usual swagger in his step and a familiar tune on his lips, in the form of a whistle.

No matter what tomorrow holds, our horns are pointing up. ]