fantachetic | ic inbox;; drift fleet

Indeed.

[ He shoulders his grief as best he can until the door to his room closes and they're alone. Only then does he allow his shoulders to drop as he sits on the steamer trunk at the end of his bed. Dorian is tired- in body and heart, but it's a comfort that he's in familiar company. Maker, he needs another drink. ]

Do you intend to share, or are you having a one-person party over there?

[If Dorian doesn't like this, he can just deal with the fact that he opened himself up for it. The Bull had bought two bottles, but, while he did hold one out, he didn't move any closer.]

Or, you know, you could come over here and we could party together.

[ While he's not too keen on closing the respectable distance between them, Dorian's hand itches to hold the bottle. To have something he knows he can rely on until he gets absolutely, irresponsibly drunk. Scooting up, Dorian does move to the bed to sit next to Bull. Closer to the alcohol, he tells himself.

Which he promptly takes from Bull, opens, and takes a hearty drink despite the burn in his throat. ]

[See, there's a reason Bull bought more than one bottle because he laughs while he's opening the other one, but it's an appreciative laugh. It's a laugh borne of amusement at something real, normal, and not the least bit completely fucked.]

Nice! [And he raises his own bottle in a sort of...mock toast.] To getting totally fucked up and not thinking about fucking zombies.

[and he takes a really healthy hit of his own bottle, and exhales hard at the burn going down. That was good. That was very good.]

Edited Date: 2018-07-05 12:55 am (UTC)

[ Dorian has to clear his throat from the burn, his eyes watering, but he doesn't regret the strength nor the quantity. It's helping to process everything Bull's told him. The more numb he is, the better it will be later on. Tomorrow, he may hate himself, but that is a problem for future Dorian. ]

Not thinking about zombies, indeed. [ His voice is a bit raspy from the drink, but it doesn't stop him from having another. Here is to not thinking about how his best friend died and he wasn't there. Here is to being utterly useless in a situation that could have benefited from his expertise. ]

[Even the Bull has to clear his throat after that stuff. This was going to be a good day...night...maybe he'd actually sleep. It was hard to say.]

You know, I only went out there for horn balm. [He shook his head slightly and eyed the bottle again before taking another, shorter, pull from it.

And clearing his throat again.]

Didn't even find any.

You found rather more than horn balm.

[ Not that he wanted to. He's sure Bull went on a whim, and regretted it. Continues to regret it, if their current conversation is anything worth mentioning. ]

[The only response Bull offered to the comment was a nod at first. He could try to play it off, pretend it was awesome how many he killed, but...they'd been people...innocent travelers just like them. It'd only been a day.]

...wildfires spread slower than...whatever that was.

[ Dorian occupies himself by taking another drink, composing in his head what he is going to say. There are many things he wants to ask, all for the sake of knowing, but his search for knowledge can be a bit crass. ]

What do you believe caused it? It couldn't possibly have been these 'Atroma' we've heard so much about?

Don't know.

[And he really hasn't been trying to puzzle it out, Dorian.]

Look. All I know is this: if they bite you, you die. Then you get back up and join the pack. I mean... [He looked thoughtfully at his bottle before knocking it back again, growling out a breath afterward. Surely this shit would kick in soon, right?]

I guess somebody had to start it, right?

So-- what? Someone was bitten and it locked down an entire waystation?

[ That seems too quick for just one person to have started. The question remains unanswered just how it started with whoever got the ball rolling, so to speak. Surely, they had to know beforehand, didn't they?

Whatever this is, or was, is contagious, that's for certain. Much like the Taint in Thedas, which is greatly concerning. What has to be done to prevent it from occurring again? ]

Was it someone from the Fleet who started this, or do we have to be concerned about future places we visit?

I guess? It's fast. I was trying to help people get across the courtyard to the shuttles, but a group caught up with us.

[He looked off, taking another big hit from that bottle before continuing. This time, it didn't burn. Good.]

Everybody was panicking. A guy went down. Two people trampled him before the undead got to him. You ever seen somebody rip out a guy's throat with human teeth? He bled out in seconds. And then he got up, rolled over, and bit into the guy next to him who was pinned.

...it was fucking. Fast.

Maker..

[ He'd gathered by Bull's upset that it had been horrible, but this? A hysteria quickly followed on the heels of this much death and reanimation? An endless cycle of dying.

Dorian shakes his head and looks at Bull with his brow furrowed. ]

I'm sorry.

Bah. [He shakes his head and hits the bottle again, then turns to look at Dorian...and his bottle.]

Hey. You're fallin' behind. This isn't about looking pretty with your bottle. [And he leaned over slightly, nudging Dorian's shoulder with his own.] Your turn.

[ Dorian grouses, but picks the bottle up and takes a few drinks. His fingers are starting to tingle, which is a damn better sign than anything else. Once his limbs have difficulty with coordination is when he truly knows he's drunk. The sooner his thoughts start to muddle, the better it will be for both of them. ]

I'm keeping up just fine, thank you.

We'll see.

[The numbness was starting to settle in, just between his temples, and that was damned good. It made him able to think about things other than replaying the last 24 hours over and over again, the haze of fatigue coalescing in his mind with the liquor.]

Hey, so. What's your boss like? Uh...the Inquisitor?

[Because seriously, anything is better to talk about than zombies.]

[ Bull might be surprised how well he can hold his liquor, but it comes from years of practice and debauchery. Dorian takes another idle drink, positioning himself on the bed so that he can lean his back against the cold metal of the wall. ]

Inquisitor Lavellan is far more kind than he possibly should be. Rather attractive. Friendly. Cares entirely too much about everyone and everything.

[ Well by now, he's just explaining a malleable protagonist. ]

Aside from the elf thing, I think that's what makes whoever gets that mark thing important. All the rest of it.

[He nods, though.]

So. There's three Dalish elves who got that thing...and one human noblewoman. Fuckin' weird.

It makes you wonder just how many different Inquisitors there are, doesn't it? Where do their paths branch off, and how similar are their futures? And where do we fit into it?

[ Maker, he's just going to take another drink and stop rambling. This is a LOT to think about. ]

[Bull follows suit and laughs, rolling his shoulders.]

As long as there's something around for me to hit, I'm good. And hey, [He nudges Dorian's shoulder again.] You're still the same old fop. That's something, right?

[ Dorian cheers rather unenthusiastically, raising his bottle in a toast before drinking again for a bit longer. ]

Well done, us.

[Bull joins him in that toast, and subsequent drink, and then watches him appreciatively for a moment. The Vint's never been hard on the eyes, and every new things he learns about the guy just makes him all the hotter.]

You know. Sure, people talk, and Josephine bitches about all the wine, but you really know your way around a bottle.

[He takes a breath, blinks slightly, and shifts to lean against the wall as well.]

Of course, the true test of a good drink is whether or not you can stand and make it to the latrine.

I know my way around a great deal more than a bottle, Iron Bull.

[ He's rather comfortable here, all things considered. ]

I'm quite certain I've still got coordination of all of my limbs enough to perform erotic dance.

[ IS HE JOKING?? ]

That sounds like a challenge.

[And if there's any indication in his voice, he's very excited about the prospect of that challenge.]

I'm not buyin' unless you're sellin', big guy.

[And he makes a motion toward the open area beyond the bed.]