#isala stuff

Blackwall still didn’t understand it, but that didn’t matter. They did, and it meant the world. Him with his dawnstone blade and her with her dawnstone infused staff. The standard dawnstone dagger that had worked its way into standard Inquisition uniform, nothing extravagant, but noticeable if you knew. Enough for Bull to grin when he saw new recruits stare at the blade puzzled, enough to invigorate him when they used it in the defense of villagers while she ran off to end Corypheus. Enough to mean something to them.

Everyone in the Inquisition had agreed that this was too much. But they couldn’t stop her, the advisors and closer friends tried to sway her but she wouldn’t budge. She had the biggest grin when he returned with the Chargers. A fire in her eyes and a bounce in her step. She was childlike. It almost soothed the dread in everyone’s gut. Seeing her so happy, so filled with life. She wasn’t much for grand gestures, overtly public displays of affection, but this time was an exception. The magic she usually held with tight reigns was dancing around her playfully, adding a warm to the breeze throughout Skyhold. His reaction upon learning what she had brought him made her practically glow. His laughter carried from the stables, echoing as far as the gardens. A dragon she had hatched a bloody dragon for him. It was needless to say that Blackwall moved out of the stables the night it happened. It was also needless to say that the lands she had scouted to the west of Skyhold finally had their tenant once the young dragon started spewing ice.

He cradled the back of her head gently, fingers tangled in her wine red locks. His other hand supported her neck, his grip gentler than it had ever been before. She was so close, so slender, a thought that had crossed his mine on more than one occasion. Thoughts that had been casually followed with ways to use that if ever needed. But this time, they didn’t. This time the thought filled his chest with a tightness as she cupped his jaw. Her thumbs slide across his cheeks, running along his scars. Their lips moving gently against each other.

This time it was different.

There was no heat behind this kiss. No firm hands or growled commands. His hands were gentle on her skin and he shuddered under her light touch. This kiss held a sweetness she’s never had with him before. A sweetness that ghosted across her mind with familiarity. A flutter in her belly whenever he so much as sighed deeply, when his fingers twitched. She was so aware of him it startled her. Such feelings she hadn’t held for another in a number of years that she almost forgot she ever had. It was a warmth that vibrated through her whole being, a warmth she thought was lost to her.

Lost since Inan.

Wrapped in their own thoughts yet tangled together. They held their eyes shut, breath soft against the other’s cheek as the gentle kiss dragged on. There were no fireworks, no heat - just satisfaction, warmth, more.

Isala’s heart raced a mile a minute as Bull’s hand slid to her waist. Cheeks and ears flush, the giddiness of a young girl in love flooded through her. A tendril of panic snakes through her mind as she breaks the kiss. This wasn’t suppose to happen, this wasn’t suppose to be more.

Bull reinitiates the kiss, cradling her as he presses her flush against him. This was different, she was different. This wasn’t another session, this wasn’t passing time with the serving girls. This was dangerous. A part of his mind whispers the word like poison, but it dies as quickly as it rose when she breaks the kiss, pressesing her forehead to his. She drags his hand from her neck, kissing each knuckle softly, shyly.

This was right.

They’re lost in their thoughts, their wonderment kept as their own. Each touch remains soft, as if they held too tight the other would disappear. Hands never wander past broad shoulders or slender waists, as if asking for more would end the magic. They stand there each time a hand skirts the boundary, letting their breaths mingle. Remaining frozen in each other's arms til one cups the other’s cheek and brings them together.

“…pin you. Then I’m going to trace your vallaslin, every inch.“ There is a flash of skin and dark red markings curling along her ribs. Cyrlen’s ears were bright red, cheeks flushed, and eyes blown wide with shock. He couldn’t maintain his usual expression when hearing or seeing, such things. However, the redhead elf receiving these forward comments was another matter entirely.”… tie you down and do things to your body that you won’t believe.” They must have thought themselves alone, or simply didn’t care who stumbled upon them. Cyrlen was currently too embarrased to move. Being discovered was also something he wished to avoid.Hidden behind the tavern, was Iron Bull and a redheaded elf. She leaned against the wall, Bull’s hand on her hip as he murmured more filthy words in her ear. Words that barely reached his ears yet still renewed his blush. He should turn on his heels right now and walk back into the infirmary. But his body refused to move, it was instead rooted in place. Leaving him partially concealed by a bush.The elven woman pushed Bull back, cupping his face as she dragged him down for a dirty kiss. Cyrlen ducked his head, cheeks warm and eyes wide. Why was he still standing there? A rough smack pulls his eyes from the ground in mild alarm. The woman gives Bull’s shoulder a rough shove, shooing him away while rubbing her posterior. Yet he swaggers away, smugness spread across his face.If Bull sees him, he makes no notice of it, the woman stares after him fondly for a few moments. Once Bull disappears from sight she moves away from the tavern, cheeks a soft pink as she shakes her head. Heading in his direction. Before Cyrlen could move his feet, she’s rounded the bush and freezes mid step. Large silver eyes lock with his and an awkward silence drops between them. What was one to say to a complete stranger after having been caught in the middle of a tryste?She is the first to speak, her voice catching in her throat before the words fall out in a thick accent. “Um….. Hi….You are the guy Dorian has been preen- er seeing right?”As her words falter, censoring the thought that had almost escaped, his brow crupled. Blush forgotten as his usual expression slipping back in place. “Yes, Cyrlen.” He holds out his uninjured hand. Calloused fingers envelope his own, giving him a firm shake as he watches her search for words.“Isala….How much did you see?” The question reawakening his blush as their hands fall and he bashfully ducks his head. His silence speaks volumes, earning him an exasperated groan in response. “Let me buy you a drink, please. To make it up to you. I’ve got some wine stashed in the Tavern….We can share lunch and act like this never happened. You get a free meal and I get to ignore my guilt and act like I did not play grab ass in front of a stranger.”Both their stomachs rumble in unison at that moment, pulling a short laugh from Isala as she watches him. He wordlessly stares at the ground, the silence dragging on a touch too long. She moves to dismiss the offer, only to remain quiet when he offers her a small smile.“Um….I think I will take you up on that.”His words echoed by another sting of rumbles and a soft laugh from Isala as they make their way to the tavern.

In all her travels, Shiloh had never seen a stable so grand nor diverse. When she had asked for the Inquisitor’s personal stables, the guard looked at her with pity and fatigue. A look that she had come to expect malnourished animals or unlivable conditions. For once, she was pleasantly surprised to find that was in fact not the case.

Her eyes meet with a man of more advanced years, cheeks white with a clean cut beard. Relief swells his chest, tension dissipating from his form.

“Thank the Maker, you must be the new hire. Ms. Surana yes? Name’s Dennet, I’m the Inquisition’s ‘horsemaster’.” 

The quotations around the word ‘horsemaster’ were almost visible. Dennet lips press into a hard line before continuing. 

“We got two horses down with colic, nothing too serious that I can’t cure. But, ‘mm not sure what exactly is wrong with the uh….”

He trails off with disdain as he looks over his shoulder. There were…Well reptilian horses for the lack of better words. Mountainous beasts with the face of a drake, razor teeth, and thick hide. But, their build was similar to their equine neighbors.

“Well they aren’t something ya see everyday!” Shiloh can barely contain her excitement as it adds a bounce to her step.

With bright eyes and curiosity steering her steps closer, she stops at the gate to get a closer look at the mounts.  It is with closer inspection, that she finds their hide is not quite scales. Instead, it was thick like a bronto, small scales cover its legs and underbelly, trailing up its throat to its jaw. Firm cartilage spikes pebble their shoulders and flank. They were dark in hue compared to the rest of their multicolored hide. 

Shiloh turns to address the moderately grouchy horsemaster. A multitude of questions swelling behind her lips. But she finds they’re no longer alone. Towering over Dennet was a Dalish woman, hair a rich wine red, with a vallaslin of matching hue. Her features sharp, accentuated by the smooth curves of her armor. Red ropes and thick green cotton weaving its way around her form.

Shiloh felt dwarfed by this woman already, and she was standing nearly 30 feet away from her. A thought that found her teeth rolling her cheek between them. But the new woman held her attention for mere seconds once the mount behind the woman moved. An audible gasp rattles past her lips as she takes in the behemoth.

It was a giant horned nug.

“Where in Thedas did you find this? Is this related to nugs or do they share appearances only? What is it called? How did you find this? Is this their usual temperament? Where- By the gods you’re her!”

The woman she had looked over, The Herald of Andraste, The Inquisitor, laughed. For a moment Shiloh was unsure if it was at her or at her. Nonetheless it was a rich sound that warmed her cheeks. Dennet stood by her looking as unamused as before. Taking the reigns from the Inquisitor, he leads the giant nug away.

“Please, just call me Isala. Josephine said you had arrived, you must be Shiloh.”

Isala shakes her hand, offering a warm and tired smile as they follow after Dennet. Shiloh noticed she was tall before, but standing next to her was startling. Isala dwarfed her more than she anticipated. She was a good head taller and not quite as intimidating as she imagined.

“To answer your questions, I bought their location from a frivolous Orlisian. He thought no one would ever be able to afford it. It was the only thing in his shop actually.”

She offers a wicked grin. A glint of mischief in her eyes as they stopped next to Dennet as he began unsaddling the mount.

“We call them nuggalopes, they are actually pretty friendly and do not startle easily. They are some of my favorite mounts. This girl’s name is Idrilla.”

She picks up a soft brush and begins brushing down the nuggalope. A soft throaty rumble comes from somewhere deep in it’s chest. With the answers sprung new questions as she watched Isala care for Idrilla. An almost comical yet disturbing sight to see the tall woman dwarfed by her mount.

“As fascinating as this….mount must be Miss Surana, the Inquisition didn’t bring you here to see her zoo.”

Dennet shot at her from the other side of Idrilla. This caused a note of mirth to escape Isala and Shiloh’s freckled cheeks to flush.

“Yes! Of course, my apologies Inquisitor. I tend to get a little too excited.”

Embarrassment colors her words as Shiloh sets her bags down on a nearby table. Rifling through her things before extracting a notebook. Turning towards Isala and the horsemaster, Shiloh reigned in her burning curiosity.

“Please Shiloh, call me Isala, and ignore Master Dennet. He can be a stick in the mud, I have been taxing this man with my menagerie of mounts. He gets a little testy when they fall ill and he can do nothing to aide them, understandable of course. Though I hardly think there is much to be concerned with. I think this weather lately is a touch too cold for them.”

Shiloh stifles a giggle at the indignant look Dennet shoots her from beside Idrilla’s flank.

“It’s more than the damn mounts. First you bring those - those dracolisk and just last week you tried to smuggle in two dragon eggs. I’m a horsemaster Inquisition, not a zoo keeper.”

Shiloh’s brain came to a complete halt, her hand shooting out to grab Isala’s arm, magenta eyes glittering with awe. Her hold on Isala is tight and shaky. The Inquisitor laughs with an expression akin to a cat who got into the creme.

“You want to see them? They’re Fereldan Frostbacks.”

She felt her knees go weak, so it was true, the Inquisitor had recovered dragon eggs. Shiloh felt dizzy.

“You have a dragon- no you have two dragons. Plural. Two.”

Her words came out breathy. Isala smiles wider, looping their arms together. Leading her away from the nuggalope and further into the stables, past harts and hallas. Had she passed on? Was this a figment of the fade? Surely this wasn’t real, no way was she this fortunate to see so many beautiful and rare creatures.

“If you stick around, you might see a wyvern here soon. We cleaned out a nest and there were some youngins that just hatched.”

This stopped her in her tracks, mouth agape, she stared at Isala. Searching her for a hint of a joke. She was serious, completely serious. Either this was real or Isala was a desire demon. By the gods Shiloh hoped it was the former.