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"Vishante kaffass!" Dorian swore under his breath. He warned him. He told him not to follow him to battle. But he didn't listen. His amatus rarely listened. Dorian swore to protect him. He swore to never let the Wolf harm him. Why couldn't amatus listen?! Dorian had a hard time suppressing tears of rage and helplessness, watching his love stretched on the ground, blood flowing rapidly from his tattered left hand.
"Amatus, talk to me. Fight!" Dorian's voice was breaking under the weight of his desperation.
"Fuck... Fuck the Dread Wolf. Fuck his minions. Fuck... Fuck..." He was sobbing now. All those years fighting vampires, demons and other Maker-forsaken creatures and he never broke. Not until now when they got to his love.
"Maker..." He muttered a silent prayer for the first time in years. He hoped to find strength in the faith. He was a slayer, Maker-damn it! The slayer! What was a bunch of unfashionable werewolves compared to him? He wasn't supposed to break down like a sissy little girl. Or his younger self, who'd rather run up to his mother and hide in her skirts, he had to admit. Despite the gravity of the situation, Dorian had to smile at that thought.
He took a deep breath. And another one. And another. That finally seemed to calm him down. He took his amatus's hand in his own and examined it. Despite all the blood the wound itself wasn't as big as he feared. That gave Dorian hope. The beast that attacked them wasn't the Dread Wolf himself. Only one of his lesser minions. There was a possibility that the werewolf taint wasn't as potent in him. Which meant there was a theoretical chance it wouldn't spread as rapidly. Dorian had no way of being certain about it, but he had to risk it.
He brushed his thumb over his amatus's hand which he still held, careful not to come in contact with his blood. As much as that was possible. Another wave of grief washed over Dorian as he stroke the hand. For the last time, he knew. He gulped, trying to ease the knot forming in his throat. He knew what he had to do. He knew it was the only way to save his amatus, but that didn't make it any easier. He was, after all, going to hurt him. It was going to alter the rest of his love's life, but, Dorian had to admit, it was better than the alternative.
"Better to cut it off than having to run after him for the rest of his life with a silver knife, right?" He sighed, trying to lift the mood a bit, even though there was no one there, except for his amatus, who couldn't hear him anyway. Dorian let out a sigh. He couldn't dally anymore. If he did, the sickness would spread and it would be too late.
He unbuckled one of his leather belts and carefully fastened it around his lover's arm, just up the elbow. He made sure the pressure stopped the blood flowing to his hand and pulled out his silver knife. He turned it around in his fingers, looking at it as though in disbelief. He sighed again.
"I am sorry, amatus..." he whispered and his voice cracked again. At least he's unconscious. He can't feel the pain like that, yes? Dorian thought with a sad smile and made to approach the wounded arm, when he felt a pull at his sleeve.
"It's alright, Dorian..." He heard a silent whisper coming from his lover. Dorian gulped and turned to face him. Amatus's usually bright eyes were fogged and looked as though they couldn't even see. "I- I should've-- listened. You told me to-- Not to-- It's only my stupidity that led us here." Dorian felt the tears rolling down his cheeks. He shook his head and forced his lips into a smile. Although he wasn't sure how that worked out.
"Hush, amatus." He said, trying to make his voice sound firm and confident. "If it's anybody's fault, it's mine. I should have tied you up when you wouldn't listen."
"Like the Iron Bull would've done?" Dorian chuckled through the tears. That was his amatus. On the verge of death, or turning, and he'd still joke.
"That's not what I have in mind but I have no objections on trying later." His lover laughed softly. He looked like he was in so much pain... Dorian caressed his cheek. "Amatus... I am going to have to-"
"Cut my hand off? Figured as much." Came a silent, but sharp interruption. "So get to it already, you kinky bastard!"
If the situation hadn't been so dire Dorian would have laughed. But this was no place and certainly no time for laughter. They already lost too much time and there was no telling how much more they had.
"Amatus, I need you to bite this." He put a piece of hard leather into his lover's mouth. "This is going to hurt and I don't want you to hurt yourself more than necessary."
His lover made an incomprehensible grunt and looked into Dorian's eyes before averting his gaze away. Dorian understood. It was time. He wished he had more suitable tools than a sharp silver knife, but he had to do with what he had at hand.
"Oh, Dread Wolf, I'm going to get you for this--" He hissed.
And cut.