When the Bull answers, Dorian feels a warm flicker of something in his chest. Relief, perhaps, that the Bull hasn't decided to raise up his voice as he had earlier and make a show of it, drawing further attention to the two of them – the same way he had earlier in their game. At least Dorian won't have to hope for an excuse to disappear.
Dorian remains quiet for another beat, smiling to himself, feeling a strangely thrilling sense of satisfaction and pride. Silly of him – he's surely said and done lewder things back home in Tevinter. It's different in the south, knowing that admitting to some sort of attraction aloud would, at worst, lead him to only embarrassment, and little else.
His lips part to speak, except he hears a distant rumbling, like thunder.
"Brace yourselves!" Renn shouts, and he grabs hold of Valta's elbow, yanking her away from the cliff's edge, where she was admiring the ruins of the thaig. Cassandra does the same with Evelyn, the latter of whom looks back at Dorian and the Bull, her gaze darting upward and face going pale.
She shouts a warning, but Dorian's gaze has already followed hers, spotting the boulder plummetting toward the two of them. No time to grab his staff, and he shoulder-checks the Bull, pushing him toward the rest of the party. Dorian plants his feet into a wide stance, throws both of his arms out to his sides and swings them forward, hands forming into fists like he's physically yanking at the Veil. He shoves, and a green ripple of force surges from his arms to push the boulder away – just far enough to keep it from crushing the two of them.
The boulder slams into the path the two of them had just tread, and the stone starts to crack before giving way beneath the boulder's weight entirely.
Evelyn screams Dorian's name as the ground starts crumbling beneath his boots. He has a second to think a little bitterly, Maker's hairy balls, before he plummets.
Falling is an ugly, graceless thing, a distant part of him thinks, as he tumbles through the air, struggling to straighten himself out for some semblance of control. He manages to throw out his limbs, to make himself wide to keep from wildly spinning. It's only then he notices that the Bull has fallen with him, slightly above him, and he doesn't think, just reacts. He manages to flip himself around, and the rushing wind snatches away his mask. Dorian sweeps out his arm, covering the two of them with a flickering, haphazard barrier.
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When the Bull answers, Dorian feels a warm flicker of something in his chest. Relief, perhaps, that the Bull hasn't decided to raise up his voice as he had earlier and make a show of it, drawing further attention to the two of them – the same way he had earlier in their game. At least Dorian won't have to hope for an excuse to disappear.
Dorian remains quiet for another beat, smiling to himself, feeling a strangely thrilling sense of satisfaction and pride. Silly of him – he's surely said and done lewder things back home in Tevinter. It's different in the south, knowing that admitting to some sort of attraction aloud would, at worst, lead him to only embarrassment, and little else.
His lips part to speak, except he hears a distant rumbling, like thunder.
"Brace yourselves!" Renn shouts, and he grabs hold of Valta's elbow, yanking her away from the cliff's edge, where she was admiring the ruins of the thaig. Cassandra does the same with Evelyn, the latter of whom looks back at Dorian and the Bull, her gaze darting upward and face going pale.
She shouts a warning, but Dorian's gaze has already followed hers, spotting the boulder plummetting toward the two of them. No time to grab his staff, and he shoulder-checks the Bull, pushing him toward the rest of the party. Dorian plants his feet into a wide stance, throws both of his arms out to his sides and swings them forward, hands forming into fists like he's physically yanking at the Veil. He shoves, and a green ripple of force surges from his arms to push the boulder away – just far enough to keep it from crushing the two of them.
The boulder slams into the path the two of them had just tread, and the stone starts to crack before giving way beneath the boulder's weight entirely.
Evelyn screams Dorian's name as the ground starts crumbling beneath his boots. He has a second to think a little bitterly, Maker's hairy balls, before he plummets.
Falling is an ugly, graceless thing, a distant part of him thinks, as he tumbles through the air, struggling to straighten himself out for some semblance of control. He manages to throw out his limbs, to make himself wide to keep from wildly spinning. It's only then he notices that the Bull has fallen with him, slightly above him, and he doesn't think, just reacts. He manages to flip himself around, and the rushing wind snatches away his mask. Dorian sweeps out his arm, covering the two of them with a flickering, haphazard barrier.