The Bull stares, his backward crawl slowing as he watches corpses lifting themselves up, powered by Dorian's magic and by something else, something that just by the skin of Dorian's teeth balances on the right side of possession. Not being able to see all of it, a head caved in and still upright, a reaching hand wrapped in glowing purple, just glimpses caught through a wall of fire - there's something about seeing it that way makes the whole thing look worse.
If he was watching just anyone do that, some mage he didn't know, it would be easy to say no one should have that kind of power. But when it's someone on his team, someone he's seen down and vulnerable and trying not to look like he's hurting, someone who'll boast all day but doesn't know how to take a compliment, who worries about him, who's risking something worse than death on the off chance he'll be able to get the Bull out of this - when it's Dorian, who will use his magic on stupid little things as easy as breathing and doesn't know how to leave a man behind-
It's weird. Still creepy as shit, but it's weird. How this can be up there on the list of the freaky crap he's seen, and not feel like a threat.
"Neat trick," the Bull says, the smallest hint of something unsettled running beneath his voice that could be coming from anywhere. It probably isn't, actually, only just from the one thing; it's been a really shitty day.
He starts dragging himself a little faster again.
"Out the way you got in, while they're busy? Is all this going to last that long, or are we going to have to run for it?"
We. Run. A couple words are doing a lot of work in that sentence there. The Bull can retreat, anyway, after some kind of fashion. It looks like Dorian's not going to leave him behind to run off himself, so they'll have to figure it out.
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If he was watching just anyone do that, some mage he didn't know, it would be easy to say no one should have that kind of power. But when it's someone on his team, someone he's seen down and vulnerable and trying not to look like he's hurting, someone who'll boast all day but doesn't know how to take a compliment, who worries about him, who's risking something worse than death on the off chance he'll be able to get the Bull out of this - when it's Dorian, who will use his magic on stupid little things as easy as breathing and doesn't know how to leave a man behind-
It's weird. Still creepy as shit, but it's weird. How this can be up there on the list of the freaky crap he's seen, and not feel like a threat.
"Neat trick," the Bull says, the smallest hint of something unsettled running beneath his voice that could be coming from anywhere. It probably isn't, actually, only just from the one thing; it's been a really shitty day.
He starts dragging himself a little faster again.
"Out the way you got in, while they're busy? Is all this going to last that long, or are we going to have to run for it?"
We. Run. A couple words are doing a lot of work in that sentence there. The Bull can retreat, anyway, after some kind of fashion. It looks like Dorian's not going to leave him behind to run off himself, so they'll have to figure it out.