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Simply observing, one would expect Dorian Pavus to fall with a quiet dignity. His easy grace permeates everything else he does. With an elegant overhead swing of his staff, he casts a bright ball of fire at his opponents, flourishing the move with a casual smile and a wink directed at the inquisitor. His gait is rhythmic and lithe. No one was more surprised than Dorian however when a loose rock suddenly gave way from under his utterly graceful foot, hurling the mage ass over tea kettle into the ditch he was walking along.
Sera, predictably, gives in to a fit of the giggles immediately. Inquisitor Layna gasps and rushes over to her fallen comrade. The Iron Bull bites back a snort of laughter and slides down the incline after the other two.
“Kaffas! I think it’s twisted.” Dorian says, after a failed attempt at getting himself off the ground. He sighs theatrically. “I guess you’ll just have to leave me here.”
“Don’t be absurd, Dorian. Bull can carry you.”
Dorian can’t quite hide the blush that graces his cheeks. “I was simply being dramatic. I’m sure I can make it back to camp on my own. Layna, be a dear and let me use your support a moment to stand.”
She hauls him up, with some difficulty, to standing. He balances on one leg for a moment before tentatively putting a little weight on his injured leg. He gasps and quickly grabs back onto Layna to keep himself from toppling again. “See, not so bad.”
“Dorian, it’s no trouble. You can’t weigh more than Rocky, and I’ve had to carry his drunk ass out of more than one tavern.” Bull says and pauses thoughtfully. “Many more. I should probably have a chat with him about that.”
“No, I assure you, I can see myself back to camp. You needn’t wait for me.”
“Well, I ain’t carrying ya.” Sera says, stalking off the direction they came from.”
“I could try and piggy back you if you want, but I really don’t think we’d get very far.” Layna shrugs.
“You know you’re being ridiculous right?” Bull asks.
“I’m Dorian of House Pavus and I will not be carried like a child!”
“Suit yourself.” he says and heads after Sera.
“Here, maybe you can lean on me a bit,” Layna suggests offering her his arm. He takes it gratefully.
It was slow going, but they were making progress. Dorian’s breath hitched every time he put weight down, but he refused to complain.
“Alright, this is stupid,” Bull says before scooping Dorian up one arm under his knees and the other across his back. “Layna, why don’t you catch back up with Sera? She wants to talk more about that march on Verchiel and you’re probably more help than me.”
Layna hesitates. “Are you guys sure?”
“It’s fine, just go,” Bull says while Dorian gapes at him silent, but outraged.
She nods and jogs ahead a little bit to meet back up with Sera.
“This is- I just- You can’t-” Dorian sputters. “This is not dignified!”
“Neither was the header you took off the ledge, but here we are.”
Dorian sighs. “I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”
“Not from Sera, that’s for sure. She brought it up a few times when we were talking. She’s quite pleased about it.”
“Wonderful. Please put me down. It’s just a sprained ankle. I’m going to get enough grief without Sera actually seeing me carried into camp like some blushing virgin bride on her wedding day.”
“Well, there are a lot more interesting ways I could carry you if that’s what’s bothering you,” Bull says and without a preamble twists Dorian in his arms so the mage is straddling him and his weight is supported by Bull’s hands on his thighs.
“Bull!” Dorian exclaims, looking shocked, but not appalled. “I’m not sure this is any more dignified.”
Bull pushes Dorian heavily against a pillar they were passing, grinding him against his stomach. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” he asks, leaning in.
“I don’t-”
Bull cuts him off with a growl and a kiss. It’s quick and rough, Dorian’s back grinding against the abrasive stone, his arms locked around the qunari’s neck.