"Solas would," Dorian replies, trying to mirror some of the Bull's lightness. "Critique my form, that is."
But it would take a fool to notice that the Bull is making a rather glaring omission, and Dorian lets out a breath. Of course it bothered the Bull. It bothers nearly everyone outside of Nevarra, and even some people from Nevarra. Cassandra had given him a wide berth the first time he had placed a wisp into a corpse, only to later probe with questions to discover what type of person he was, whether he was the type to bind wisps to corpses and have them shambling after him like some sort of retainer. Even some mages in Tevinter find necromancy distasteful.
He frowns at the Bull's obvious pulse of pain, grip tightening on the Bull's arm before Dorian nudges them toward what might have once been a storage room. He had passed by it earlier while exploring the place – evidenced by the line of chalk he left by the doorway – and he guides the Bull in. There's a stone table – tall and sturdy enough to support a man of Bull's size – and Dorian guides him toward it.
"I save it for emergencies," he explains quietly. The Bull may be avoiding the topic, and as simple as it would be for Dorian to go along with him, Dorian won't. He's not ashamed of his magic, but in this case, he understands the worry that comes along with it – and his responsibility as a practitioner to assuage those worries. "I don't make a habit of animating skeletons and having them carry me about in a palanquin – though perhaps I should."
no subject
But it would take a fool to notice that the Bull is making a rather glaring omission, and Dorian lets out a breath. Of course it bothered the Bull. It bothers nearly everyone outside of Nevarra, and even some people from Nevarra. Cassandra had given him a wide berth the first time he had placed a wisp into a corpse, only to later probe with questions to discover what type of person he was, whether he was the type to bind wisps to corpses and have them shambling after him like some sort of retainer. Even some mages in Tevinter find necromancy distasteful.
He frowns at the Bull's obvious pulse of pain, grip tightening on the Bull's arm before Dorian nudges them toward what might have once been a storage room. He had passed by it earlier while exploring the place – evidenced by the line of chalk he left by the doorway – and he guides the Bull in. There's a stone table – tall and sturdy enough to support a man of Bull's size – and Dorian guides him toward it.
"I save it for emergencies," he explains quietly. The Bull may be avoiding the topic, and as simple as it would be for Dorian to go along with him, Dorian won't. He's not ashamed of his magic, but in this case, he understands the worry that comes along with it – and his responsibility as a practitioner to assuage those worries. "I don't make a habit of animating skeletons and having them carry me about in a palanquin – though perhaps I should."