#ladaar

   Strands of sun bleached hair pushed aside as he finally gets through the worst of the healing, resting against the crumbling wall. His most time for respite he’d had, and no doubt would have, for a moment. It was hard to keep everyone well and healthy, most of them were scared and trying their best but unaware of how to fend off demons or the stray templar that gets too close. He wouldn’t have any idea either if not for his numerous escapes, or time as a warden, couldn’t fault them at all. They were trying, that’s all he could ever ask of them. Though asking them to be more careful and learn to heal themselves might not be asking as much as he thought some days.

   His moment gone as a younger mage all but frantically scrambles for him, pulling at his arm to get him up and moving. Guests he says, important guests, who was important anymore and why did they want to come in this place? The suspicion stirring the part of him he tried to keep at bay, but it was hard upon seeing the group at their “gate”. His grip on his staff tightening as he tried to keep himself centered. 

   ❝What do you want?❞

   A question that has a bit more of a bite to it than he had intended, narrowing his eyes as he asks. A strange group only brings about trouble, he would know.

people are helping me with inspiration for my drawing studies ✨

He is back in Seheron. He's having trouble holding his axe because he is drenched in blood. Flies are in the air seeking to make homes in the bodies of... of...

The pain of an arrow hits him in the shoulder and when he screams he is clawing at sheets. There is a far away screech of an animal scrambling away. He's restrained. "I can't move!" he snarls it out, raging and fighting, the harder and harder The Iron Bull thrashes the more that restrictive force binds him.

It's not straps or ropes... it's arms.

This is real, I'm real. look at me.

Still heavy breaths rip through his lungs with a burn. He must've been at this for longer than he knew and even with that almost familiar voice calling him back he cannot untense. Her arms (Iron Bull squeezes his eyes shut tight trying to bring himself down) tighten, unrelenting.

Trying to bring a hand up to wrench them away, they're already trapped.

It feels like hours, all of his senses slowing down as those breaths still drag through his lungs like glass.

I am The Iron Bull. I am Ben-Hassrath. No, start again. I am Iron Bull. I am Tal-Vashoth. I work with... The Inquisiton.

He didn't think he was speaking out loud, but the arms loosen slightly still wary of him losing the moment again.... comforting him. He feels the press of a forehead on his sweat soaked back and a thankful exhale.

His mind draws to a headache and a dull ringing as slowly his breathing evens out. As it evens out he can feel her loosen, andBull raises his hand and grips her forearm to keep her there.

Nalla... no, that's not all.

"Did I hurt you?" his voice scratches out, and his throat hurts.

He can feel her speak, but not all of his senses are there yet... he hopes he didn't.

What remained of the night and the early morning past by too fast. One moment she is lifting a cool cup of water to his lips, his hands resting limply in his lap. Palms open and upward.

Then... it is morning and he is entirely back in this time and place.

"Are you okay, Kadan?" his throat still hurts when he speaks, but he can't remember what she said. She is dressed for the day save for the armor, but crawls back into bed, pushing him back to lay down as she straddles and gives the suggestion of pinning his arms to his sides with her thighs now, an explanation of how some of last night went down. "You didn't even touch me. Didn't get the chance to, Big Guy. You'd never hurt me," he watches as she reaches out, touching the bruises of where she'd dug in her finger tips to hold him in place.

The last of the tension releases from around his heart and Bull allows his eyes to shut. "Can you-" he is the one that soothes the hurt, but, "Stay a little longer and hold me, Kadan?" he wonders.

(    🐇   )          THERE’S LITTLE HESITATION   had as the viera places her    little black coeurl  into the taller woman’s lap.   she’d been sitting there awhile and she figured that it would be needed.   it was the    ANIVERSARY    of a man they both cared for and,   well,   it was never easy for    any    of them.

ESPECIALLY BEING    unable to visit right now.      <     TAKE HER.    you know he would understand,   yes    ??    he would    NOT BE CROSS.     >

          RARELY SILENCED WAS the woman, often had she relied on quick-wit to lay forth a comment to break any ounce of silence that dared form. Yet, here she stood. Practically standing on the tips of her toes just to appear slightly taller than she was, yet the woman towered over her. 

        >> 🌻 <<                     ❝            WHAT IF    .  .   GETTING HIM    out of the ball calls for another soul to take its place.   have we considered    THAT    possibility    ??      ❞

@ladaar​​  —  ❛  liked for a starter.     //    ALISTAIR & NALLA.

snow crunches on the ground of brunswick, and sad green eyes look around all that which came with the destruction of his parents’ grab for opulence. how long had he lived in ignorance, that he could not see that his people were suffering? perhaps there was a reason the hawleys fled to falena for half of the year. perhaps, there was a reason he was here and they were not. gloved hands are thrust into a dark jacket, and they stop at a fountain that has never worked, for it has been too cold to push water through the mechanical pipe. the evergreen bushes have overgrown in his absence. a wintery palace with no king - a land who needed a lord, and a lord who failed them.

       >> ⚔️ <<                     ❝         ------------    I    DIDN’T    SUSPECT    you had anything to do with it.   other witchers might have but    I’M NOT    them.   i listen.   this job you’ve got,   what    DOES IT    entail    ??       ❞