"You'll know," he says, because Dorian will. Either he'll need to stop because Darkspawn are on them, or because his leg gives out. Pretty obvious either way.
No need to be irritated at Dorian, the Bull reminds himself. This is what he likes about the guy - the concern for the people around him, how deep it goes. It's the pain he's irritated with, after falling into the rhythm of stepping with the one foot, setting the staff carefully on the ground, put as much of his weight as he can on that side, breathe, do it all again. And then do it again. Keep on doing it. Fall into the mindset of it. Enough time doing that and it's starting to get to him.
With no talking to focus on, he falls into the mindset of it again. Until the smell of darkspawn starts getting stronger in his nose, strong enough to break the rhythm when he stops, torn for a second between shoving the staff back into Dorian's hands where it belongs or heading double time toward the nearest break in the wall which, if they get lucky, might just lead them somewhere safer.
He puts a hand on Dorian's shoulder, jerks his chin toward the path in front of them, and shakes his head. Then he tilts a horn toward that spot in the wall where some of it is cracked, leaning against the rubble of something fallen behind it at an angle that might just give the Bull enough room to crawl in.
He moves himself to the spot, leans against the wall so he can hold Dorian's staff out to him, and nods toward the little space. The Bull made the mistake of letting darkspawn get too close once, and doesn't know how recovered Dorian is yet from pulling him out of that. Better to be cautious now. If he's lucky whatever's on the other side won't be as shitty as it looks.
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"You'll know," he says, because Dorian will. Either he'll need to stop because Darkspawn are on them, or because his leg gives out. Pretty obvious either way.
No need to be irritated at Dorian, the Bull reminds himself. This is what he likes about the guy - the concern for the people around him, how deep it goes. It's the pain he's irritated with, after falling into the rhythm of stepping with the one foot, setting the staff carefully on the ground, put as much of his weight as he can on that side, breathe, do it all again. And then do it again. Keep on doing it. Fall into the mindset of it. Enough time doing that and it's starting to get to him.
With no talking to focus on, he falls into the mindset of it again. Until the smell of darkspawn starts getting stronger in his nose, strong enough to break the rhythm when he stops, torn for a second between shoving the staff back into Dorian's hands where it belongs or heading double time toward the nearest break in the wall which, if they get lucky, might just lead them somewhere safer.
He puts a hand on Dorian's shoulder, jerks his chin toward the path in front of them, and shakes his head. Then he tilts a horn toward that spot in the wall where some of it is cracked, leaning against the rubble of something fallen behind it at an angle that might just give the Bull enough room to crawl in.
He moves himself to the spot, leans against the wall so he can hold Dorian's staff out to him, and nods toward the little space. The Bull made the mistake of letting darkspawn get too close once, and doesn't know how recovered Dorian is yet from pulling him out of that. Better to be cautious now. If he's lucky whatever's on the other side won't be as shitty as it looks.