The Iron Bull (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ben_hassrath) wrote2014-12-27 02:15 pm
ben_hassrath) wrote2014-12-27 02:15 pm
for skremisher [completed]
[ 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. ]
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. ]
Sometimes we need a happy.
I know. You didn't even know what that bastard Tribune was saying when you jumped in, when you grabbed that one's arm and his knife found your eye. It was okay though - he didn't have that arm much longer. You didn't care what they were saying, what language they spoke. You were a mad bull, seeing red. Helped me teach 'em a lesson, helped patch me up.
You didn't care if I was a Vint like them. I was bleeding, you ripped my shirt to see - you saw everything underneath.
[Krem's voice cracked a little, pausing to choke back a sob. His hands scrubbed at his eyes again, taking a moment to breathe. He shook his head and looked up again, sniffling once more.]
You didn't care. You were the first person who didn't care.
[And that had meant everything to him. He struggled to hold back another sob, hands down at his side and balled into fists.]
Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim. [He repeated it again, straightening his back and doing his best to stand at attention.] Means, "Be patient and strong; someday this pain will be useful to you".
they definitely deserve some
What the fuck else could I have done? Let them string you up?
[ He pulls Krem to him, certain that it will be only air, but there's something solid there and he's thankful for that. In this moment, he wants... just to remember the man Krem was, remember the years of wild antics they've shared. ]
Vint or not, couldn't have let them, they didn't even know a good man when they saw one.
[ And Krem had been nothing short of a good man. He scoffs at the translation, but it's lighthearted. ]
Figures it'd be something like that.
[ Something that pierces him, something he'll never forget. ]
no subject
You're such a bastard sometimes, Chief.
[His voice cracked again at those words, muffled against Bull's chest. The words were spoken with affection, Krem unable to stop himself from rubbing his cheek against his friend, wanting that contact for just a moment more. He was quiet for a time - maybe a few seconds, maybe a few minutes, it was impossible to tell.]
In a minute... I'll be gone. Your arms are around a practice dummy out here - and you're feeling something wet because it's starting to rain. I'm not here anymore - but I had to say goodbye.
how I feel about this thread: http://i.imgur.com/06HPutB.jpg
Krem, don't...
[ Don't go, he wants to say, but there's nothing he can do that will allow him to stay. He can't even bring himself to say the word "goodbye", everything else will just have to do in its place. ]
me right now - http://i.imgur.com/xapScYz.gif
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
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. ]