#hallaloved

@hallaloved

The qunari threat, despite its size and level of danger, had seemed like nothing compared to Solas. That had been their first mistake, thinking of the qunari as something they had to overcome to get to their final goal. When the Viddasala was killed by Solas, they thought the threat was over.

Which is exactly why they hadn’t seen the next wave coming. After Ishall made the decision to disband the Inquisition (a decision that Bull disapproved of, thank you very much, but it wasn’t his call to make so he’ll grit his teeth and bear it) the Exalted Council was disassembled, and everybody started getting ready to scatter to the winds.

And that disorganization is exactly what the remaining Ben Hassrath were waiting for. They came in the middle of the night, when the nightmare-riddled Inquisitor was out in the gardens, nursing his still-healing missing hand. What they hadn’t accounted for is that Bull was there, too, just out of sight. He’d been preparing to come up behind Ishall, offer him some comfort after everything that had happened. And it’s a good thing he had, too. Heavens know what would have happened to him if he wasn’t there.

Instead of Ishall being killed, which was undoubtedly their first plan, they were both captured. They ride now, blindfolded and bound, in the back of a carriage. Ishall’s one arm shackled to the Bull’s leg, to keep them from trying to run. There’s no way they’d get far with the elf tied to his foot like this.

Send ‘Look into my eyes’ and my muse will bold what they see

For @vindictan​  || Not Accepting

“ What a beautiful day! Why not take a moment? I’m sure Master Dennet won’t mind. ”

Shit. As a young man, the Bull used to love this weather. Rain brought reprieves to the sticky heat of Seheron, washing away the stink and grime of a hard day’s work. But now? It brought out the ache in his bad leg, the dampness piercing right through him like a lance. Even the stumps of his mangled fingers ached as he curled them around his third mug of spiced cider.

At least it hid the demons and walking corpses from view. He didn’t know how long this respite would last, but being inside was better than being out there, listening to them, watching them shamble around, looking for the living to devour. The Bull sighed into his cup, blowing up a warm cloud of steam around his vitaar-lined face as he stared out the tavern window into the storm.

“Shit.” He breathed the word aloud this time as he relaxed into his seat by the fire. What a fucking mess. It was almost enough to make a man miss Seheron.