It's not one of the days when Vivienne has people carry a little table out here and put out little cups and tea and one chair just slightly bigger and sturdier than the other and has the Bull sit with her for a while. Krem probably wishes it was. He's not sure what part bothers Krem more - having to smooth things over with the Chargers when their training sessions start to go like this, or seeing the Bull snapping at his guys so much in the first place.
It isn't that bad. They all already know how to deal with him when his usual high standards and demands turn into something crabby and distracted. They all know how to weather it for a few days while their chief's mood levels out and they don't ask questions, except for Krem who asks with the looks he's been giving when he knows that the Bull sees.
So it's been more than a few days now. So he's been feeling the Iron Bull's friendly face slip at times he doesn't mean it to. He's benched till the healers give this useless shitting ankle the okay and the Chargers all know how that's a pain in the ass, the way that it wears on you. And he knows everything else that's wearing on him, the reasons all this is built up the way it is, and he's going to sit here and ride it out.
And he knows it's not just the Dorian thing that's built it up. Not on its own.
No- call it what it is. Not 'the Dorian thing'. The only way this works is if he doesn't hide from any of it. Having a good, close member of his team turn into a darkspawn for him, or get the blight and die, or whatever ends up happening, those details are pretty new but the losing people part isn't. He knows how that part works, and he can get through it. If he couldn't, couldn't handle losing just one guy, that would be a problem. He's thought about it, decided he isn't that bad yet. It isn't like there wasn't a whole lot of other crap weighing him down at the same time, what with the way it went down, the place his mind went when it did, and the leg and everything. When he sits back enough to think about it, it all mostly makes sense.
Knowing the forecast inside his head doesn't mean that he can tame the storm. It does tell him that he can wait it out. It tells him he's waited these storms out before and tells him he can do it again, nevermind the way his eye keeps focusing past his men and their footwork and their form onto the stairs, the ones Vivienne ordered him off climbing, chastising him for taking the risk. He hadn't bothered to ask how she'd already known he couldn't afford to walk more than down from his bed in the morning and up to it again at night, how even that had made the healer make a face back before his brace was all fixed up. Vivienne had let him stay there for a while, that was all that mattered.
Surprised the shit out of him the next day when she'd had that little table set up near the steps to the great hall, like she was demanding his company, like they both don't know that he puts that submissive part of himself out there for her on purpose, that she takes that bait only because she's decided to do it, like she gets a single thing out of bringing herself down here for hours at a time and making that evening a whole habit, the evening they'd just gotten back and Dorian was swept into more isolation while the Bull climbed all those stupid stairs and sat with her to leech off her unshaking certainty, her strength.
The latest makeshift cane jerks out of his hand and out of reach over onto the crate he should be sitting on and his brace slips on the same powdery snow Rocky's shoes just slipped over and the Bull catches himself against the wall, all his muscles tight and jaw clenched and fingers curled up to reach for his axe and he looks over into his blind spot and sees - who else - the one Charger they'd been missing. Rocky opens his mouth, and the Bull interrupts before he can explain. "Don't bother. I don't give a crap why you're not paying attention."
Rocky gives a couple slow nods, eyeing him, and turns to take his place near Krem. "Hey!" the Bull snaps, before Rocky can even take two steps. "Get back here."
Rocky stops, turns with his eyebrows raised. He opens his mouth and, on the look on the Bull's face, goes ahead and closes his mouth again.
The Bull jerks his head, gesturing with a horn away from the field. "The rest of us aren't a high enough priority to get you here on time, you don't get to get in their way. And go get some better shoes, for shit's sake, you put those on and try to fight on snow and the next thing you skid into's not going to be some damned cane. Get out of here."
Krem shouts for the rest of them to focus, forcing their attention away from Rocky and the Bull and the Bull looks away too, looking over the courtyard without really thinking about any part of it, straightening up slowly and carefully and trying not to really think about that either. He knows. He knows, and the Chargers know, and Rocky knows, and they're all just going to ride it out. Except Dorian, maybe. There's only so much riding it out that you can do when you're living on borrowed time.
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It isn't that bad. They all already know how to deal with him when his usual high standards and demands turn into something crabby and distracted. They all know how to weather it for a few days while their chief's mood levels out and they don't ask questions, except for Krem who asks with the looks he's been giving when he knows that the Bull sees.
So it's been more than a few days now. So he's been feeling the Iron Bull's friendly face slip at times he doesn't mean it to. He's benched till the healers give this useless shitting ankle the okay and the Chargers all know how that's a pain in the ass, the way that it wears on you. And he knows everything else that's wearing on him, the reasons all this is built up the way it is, and he's going to sit here and ride it out.
And he knows it's not just the Dorian thing that's built it up. Not on its own.
No- call it what it is. Not 'the Dorian thing'. The only way this works is if he doesn't hide from any of it. Having a good, close member of his team turn into a darkspawn for him, or get the blight and die, or whatever ends up happening, those details are pretty new but the losing people part isn't. He knows how that part works, and he can get through it. If he couldn't, couldn't handle losing just one guy, that would be a problem. He's thought about it, decided he isn't that bad yet. It isn't like there wasn't a whole lot of other crap weighing him down at the same time, what with the way it went down, the place his mind went when it did, and the leg and everything. When he sits back enough to think about it, it all mostly makes sense.
Knowing the forecast inside his head doesn't mean that he can tame the storm. It does tell him that he can wait it out. It tells him he's waited these storms out before and tells him he can do it again, nevermind the way his eye keeps focusing past his men and their footwork and their form onto the stairs, the ones Vivienne ordered him off climbing, chastising him for taking the risk. He hadn't bothered to ask how she'd already known he couldn't afford to walk more than down from his bed in the morning and up to it again at night, how even that had made the healer make a face back before his brace was all fixed up. Vivienne had let him stay there for a while, that was all that mattered.
Surprised the shit out of him the next day when she'd had that little table set up near the steps to the great hall, like she was demanding his company, like they both don't know that he puts that submissive part of himself out there for her on purpose, that she takes that bait only because she's decided to do it, like she gets a single thing out of bringing herself down here for hours at a time and making that evening a whole habit, the evening they'd just gotten back and Dorian was swept into more isolation while the Bull climbed all those stupid stairs and sat with her to leech off her unshaking certainty, her strength.
The latest makeshift cane jerks out of his hand and out of reach over onto the crate he should be sitting on and his brace slips on the same powdery snow Rocky's shoes just slipped over and the Bull catches himself against the wall, all his muscles tight and jaw clenched and fingers curled up to reach for his axe and he looks over into his blind spot and sees - who else - the one Charger they'd been missing. Rocky opens his mouth, and the Bull interrupts before he can explain. "Don't bother. I don't give a crap why you're not paying attention."
Rocky gives a couple slow nods, eyeing him, and turns to take his place near Krem. "Hey!" the Bull snaps, before Rocky can even take two steps. "Get back here."
Rocky stops, turns with his eyebrows raised. He opens his mouth and, on the look on the Bull's face, goes ahead and closes his mouth again.
The Bull jerks his head, gesturing with a horn away from the field. "The rest of us aren't a high enough priority to get you here on time, you don't get to get in their way. And go get some better shoes, for shit's sake, you put those on and try to fight on snow and the next thing you skid into's not going to be some damned cane. Get out of here."
Krem shouts for the rest of them to focus, forcing their attention away from Rocky and the Bull and the Bull looks away too, looking over the courtyard without really thinking about any part of it, straightening up slowly and carefully and trying not to really think about that either. He knows. He knows, and the Chargers know, and Rocky knows, and they're all just going to ride it out. Except Dorian, maybe. There's only so much riding it out that you can do when you're living on borrowed time.