NAVIGATION.

the iron bull‌ .

STEEL AGAINST STEEL IS A GRATING SOUND, but the battle flows nevertheless. he’s well accustomed to it by now. men dying is a bit like music to bull, in a… weird, weird way. he digs his right heel into the grass and pushes forward with his left leg, swings the sword so graciously gifted to him by the inquisitor into the sky and brings it down again. his opponent is nearly cleaved in half, split from the skull, but he’d been the last one. the relief that comes with the end of combat doesn’t last long, because the inquisitor is - nowhere in sight.

panic surges in his chest for a brief moment, and then another. the emerald graves is in no way an even playing field, crested with hills and sharp cliffs and painful falls if you’re not careful. it’s easy to get lost among the towering trees, and everything being the same color doesn’t help - especially when you can’t see out of one eye. his blade is placed reverently back into its sheath on his back, and he observes the carnage. there had been ten men, if he’d counted right. one heavy. two archers, pesky little assholes with no right to be as fast as they’d been.

he steps over one’s head, mouth left to hang open like a macabre piece of art. he’d died screaming, that’s right. doesn’t matter too much now. ‘ boss? ’ he calls, in hopes of something. a resounding answer of some sort or another, a cry, a proof that she isn’t dead. if she’s dead, they’re all fucked. the world would just end. he doesn’t like to think on that too much. solas is still sorting himself out, and varric is busy looting, which means he’s on watch. he follows the right steps : the distance between bodies grows, which means she’d been farther away, and… there’s a steep drop, right there. he has to wonder.

he peeks his head over the ledge. there’s a freeman down there, too, although he looks burnt to a crisp. and, thankfully, the inquisitor. he can’t help the easy grin that accompanies the realization that she’s fine. of course she’s fine. what had he ever needed to worry about? ‘ seems like a long way down. need any help? ’

@skysaved  /  STARTER CALL.

 he’s   faster   than   he   should   be ,   for   a   man   in   armor .   mislyn   is   taken   off   guard ,   hadn’t   seen   him   coming   ( too   focused   on   an   archer   in   the   treeline ) ,   &   he’s   got   both   arms   around   her   before   she   knows   it .   her   staff   slips   from   her   fingers.   he’s   bigger   than   her ,   stronger,   &   angry   to   boot .   she   scrambles   for   purchase ,   digs   her   nails   into   what   little   she   can   find   &   sends   a   bolt   of   electricity   out   from   her   palm .   the   freeman   feels   it ,   but   still   holds   her   in   place .   he   moves   one   arm,   pressure   over   her   throat   like   he’s   going   to   choke   her —

 so   mislyn   does   the   only   thing   she   can   think   to   &   kicks ,   shoves   both   of   them   straight   over   the   edge .   it’s   not   a   far   enough   drop   to   kill   her ,   but ,   creators ,   it   still   hurts .   his   armor   digs   harshly   into   her   back ,   &   a   sharp   pain   radiates   through   her   ribs .   she   doesn’t   focus   on   that .   another   charge   swells   in   her   hands ,   &   mislyn   grips   tight   to   both   sides   of   his   head .   he   chokes   on   a  scream ,   thrashes   wildly ,   but   she   doesn’t   let   go   until   he’s   finally   still .   it   seems   an   awful   way   to   die ,   but   she   tries   not   to   think   on   it   for   too   long .   frozen   solid   or   turned   to   ash   or   showered   in   sparks ;   it   doesn’t   matter   much   in   the   end .   &   he   certainly   didn’t   seem   to   have   a   problem   strangling   her .

 ❛ i’m   fine . ❜      the   response   is   immediate ,   without   any   thought ,   without   really   even   listening .   it’s   true   enough .   she’s   still   breathing   &   the   freeman   is —   well .   she   blinks   up ,   where   the   iron   bull   is   smiling   down   at   her .   it   makes   something   in   her   stomach   twist   unpleasantly   ( or   maybe   that’s   still   her   rib ? ) .   mislyn   trusts   him   about   as   far   as   she   can   throw   him ,   which   is   to   say :   not   at   all .   oh ,   she   doesn’t   think   she’s   in   any   danger   of   him   cleaving   her   right   in   two ,   or   hauling   her   off   to   his   people ,   &   he’s   certainly   proven   near   invaluable   when   it   comes   to   combat .   but   she   is   afraid   of   him   all   the   same .

 ❛ a   little   late   for   help,   don’t   you   think ? ❜      two   taps   with   her   boot   to   the   dead   man’s   shoulder .   she   does   not   smile ,   but   keeps   her   voice   as   light   as   she   can   manage .      ❛ can   you   get —    is   my   staff   up   there ? ❜