She had no way to close the tunnel up until morning and tears began anew. Just a trickle at first ran down her cheeks, accompanied by the sniff of her nose. They once again reached a steady stream that clouded her vision as she traversed the slippery stones. With one misplaced footstep, she was sent careening into the mud-slick between two boulders. Sharp, white-hot pain made her gasp and then loudly curse, stringing foul epaulets together into one long word. Her foot had wedged itself in the corner between the firm rocks now surrounding her. If it hadn't she would have been neck high in mud. This way she was thankfully only waist deep in the slimy, brown goo. With a pained groan she began to feel around in the near darkness for a ledge or handhold that would enable her to haul herself out of the mire. Eventually she found one and with overexerted, strained back and arm muscles she dislodged herself with a disgusting slurping sound.
She laid back on the stone for a few moments panting and wincing as she tried to catch her breath before she sat up to examine her throbbing joint. With deft and careful fingers she palpated her ankle through the thin leather. Every touch had her flinching in pain but no telltale grinding of bone on bone. Luck hadn't completely abandoned her it seemed. Neither had the mud been too deep to get herself out of nor did her ankle seem to be broken. She needed to get the tightly laced boot off before she could really assess the damages and she couldn't do that here. Besides that, there was not even enough light to make out her boot clearly. The ocean mist obscured the night further and further until not even the stars nor the ever-present moon shone through the dark clouds above.
"Okay Tempest, one… two… three, up I go." She girded her courage to put her full weight on the painful limb as she stood and began the squelching limp back to camp. After the first few stumbling steps across the rocky incline Tempest realized she would need to think this out a little better. Each footfall sent a sharp, shooting pain from her ankle up into her lower back. She could feel her blood rising as the frustration of her situation made itself abundantly clear. She had only made it a few more yards before she found a boulder small enough to sit and take a small break, yet she was panting and sweating as if she had just repeated the race along the sands from earlier that day.
The mud encrusted Inquisitor huddled in her wet leathers, rocking slightly back and forth from the pain on her stony perch. A small growl escaped her lips as she pondered her options. She could attempt to get to the trees and hope to find a stick strong enough to aid her up the hill or she would have to muster her way through the pain unaided. Raising her tormented eyes to the tree-line Tempest tried to estimate how far it would take her off the semi-beaten path and how much effort she would waste returning to it. Even if she did try to, she would be navigating blind in just over knee-deep grasses not to mention there was no guarantee of downed bits of wood. She shook her head slightly as she amended the thought to 'highly' unlikely because of the presence of the Inquisition camp nearby and she was in no condition to climb or hop to obtain a stick to use. That decided it, she would just have to bite her lip until it bled and take that hill!
A small fire of determination and desperation lit in her pensive blue eyes as she stood once more using whatever that came to hand to aid her struggle for balance and drive. She concentrated on placing her feet one in front of the other over and over again. Eventually her hand came to rest on the boulder her team had hidden behind during Dorian's dick gargling escapade, but the pain held her so in thrall that she was unable to even smile as she slumped against its rain slick surface. This was the last coverage between her and the camp. Likewise she noticed it would be the final aid or succor she would receive before she reached the top of the hill. There were no helpful bits of stumps nor any usefully sized stones, just her, mud and the incline that grew steeper as she neared the summit.
Squaring her shoulders she pushed away from the boulder and resumed her trek. The rain had turned the path slick under-step and with her injured leg Tempest felt as if she slid back a few inches for every foot she gained. The mud sucked at her boots with loud a glop and her heartbeat sounded out a like a drum in her chest, gaining tempo with each labored stride. Eventually she crested the peak, but by this point each time she set her injured foot down and placed weight on it a small gasp of pain escaped her unusually red lips. The struggle up had caused her a fair amount of pain and frustration. Eventually she began envisioning each stretch of muddy path in front of her being her enemies' faces. At first the strong-willed woman took a small sliver of pleasure of stomping their faces. She started with Corypheus' and worked her way down to the chamber maid that called her fat by the time she reached the pinnacle of her climb. Each step was fueled by the pit of fury that boiled inside her within. That dark place that that never emptied, where she shoved every slight, every atrocity she had ever seen or heard of. The sour and bitter emotion always inside her ready to burst out with the thinnest prick of injustice. It was that rage that took her the last few steps into the camp.
The campfire was barely a smoldering pile of ash and gave no warmth to her tormented spirit. There were more tents alit then could possibly house her meager crew and by the stack of freshly dirtied bowls it seemed that the rest of the survey crew had returned in her absence. She took two small hops intending to join Harding in the medical tent, but a throaty murmur and slowly undulating shadows atop the cot deterred her steps, leaving her standing out in the open center of the temporary settlement. The sky chose that moment to rip open with thunder and lightning arcing between rain heavy clouds. The torrent that came down upon her drenched what little skin left that was dry. Rain, mud and blood ran off her leather armor in rivers but clung stubbornly to her pale skin in gritty blobs.
That was it. That was all she could take. Her mind shattered out from underneath her, dropping her entire being into that oubliette of raw emotions inside her. All her wrath, all her pain came pouring from her throat in earth rending screams one after the other. Her shrieks and curses were nearly completely drowned out by the awesome tempest that slammed into the Storm Coast. The rain brought drafts of salty sea water to sting her eyes and she let the fearful tears of helplessness to a cruel fate wash them out. She began scrubbing at every inch of exposed skin trying to rid herself of her guilt, of the frenzy inside her, of it all. Straps of leather thong that held her armor on were snapped under her crazed hands as she tried to free herself from the outward evidence of it all, the rescue, the kid, the Inquisition. Every last painful memory. She flung each article of armor and clothing with all her strength until she stood naked under the onslaught of the storm.
The water pounded down on her until at last her skin was clean and her temper subsided to whimpers and hiccups. She wrapped her trembling arms about her bare breasts and huddled. She at last made her painful way to the little red tent she claimed for herself. This tent was all she had left from her life before, before Inquisitor, before Herald, before Haven, before the Conclave, before her grandmother decided she was useful, from when she was just Tempest.
…
Though he would never admit it to anyone other than Dorian, his heart ached as he watched Tempest drag herself back into camp through the unfastened opening of their temporary home. He hadn't meant to spy on her initially, he had just came back from getting a fresh-ish loaf of bread from the mess-bivouac, set it down and then turned to close the split when he spotted her. He was transfixed by the mourning she wore so openly. Her tears indistinguishable to him through the rain, the way her shoulders shook and the open mouth screams were what told him she was sobbing. But her eyes, the way they flashed, spoke of a deep seated rage. A rage like he had never seen before. It was a blow that held him immobile, it scared him for her and for the fate of Thedas. In the Qun they had emotions and taking care of them down to such a science that he was startled to see her have such a breakdown. The Qun took it all into account as a basic need and prevented this type of display so much it was simply rare to witness it.
"Hey Dorian? You might want to see this." Iron Bull held the soggy tent flap open a little more for a distinctly disinterested Dorian to peer out into the torrential downpour from underneath the protective layers of his canvas covered arm.
"Are we sure the Boss isn't a mage? She sure the looks like one right now."
Dorian turned around in their spacious pavilion from where he was unloading their traveling packs with his spare robes in hand. Leisurely he hung the garment over a drying line he had strung for that exact use, to dry out overnight and padded over barefoot to see what Bull was referring to.
"Of course I am. Dwarves can't be a..." Dorian's quip abruptly stopped as he bit his tongue watching Tempest out in the storm. Her rage was palatable in the air and the very thunder seemed to answer her ragged cries. Lightning danced along the outside of the rift-green barrier surrounding her. Tempest didn't even seem aware of its presence as she began tossing her armor off until she stood naked under the pounding rain and punishing winds that seemed to come at her bidding. "…Mage."
Both men considered themselves brave, but neither could move as the watched her frenzied cleansing and listened to her heart wrenching cries. They were her friends but they were helpless to go to her aid, not while the strange magic held sway. It was if the power of the Fade was leaking through the Inquisitor and creating a miasma, right there in the middle of the encampment. The wild intensity of the storm died out slowly as the powerful woman at the center began to quiet. Then with a silent pop felt by any mage within the surrounding coastline, the magic was sucked back into the Fade from whence it came. She stood there, sluiced clean by the storm. The last watery rivets ran between her large breasts and down the flat plane of her stomach. Her coppery red braid hung wet down her back and buttocks to dangle dripping just below the plump cheeks. Her curvy hips and legs were dotted with sparking drops of water that shimmered under the dual moon light that broke through the dwindling clouds. A light sprinkle fell on the head of the retreating womanly figure and she walked limping and nude into her tent.
"We have to do something, I need to go to her." Dorian sputtered, wide-eyed as he began ransacking the tent in search of his boots, cloak and some of the liquid fire Bull always kept in a flask of. For emergencies only, the Qunari had claimed, justifying the throat-numbing liquid. "This is what Envy meant. This is the power it really wanted."
"Hold it." Bull ordered, sitting down in front of the closed tent entrance with concern and confusion warring across his features. "Envy, as in the demon you all killed at Therinfal Redoubt? The thing pretending to be the Lord Seeker." Iron Bull didn't ask the last. Rather he said it with a sinking sense of certainty and dawning of understanding. Eyebrows raised, Bull's eye followed the unusually pale mage as he fluttered from one drying pile of gear to the next. Dorian's normal care regarding his grooming items was discarded. He tossed his unneeded shaving kit to one side of the tent in frustration as he searched for the medical kit and his only dry cloak left rolled up around it. Iron Bull watched the worry and fear roll off his lover in waves as he got more and more irritated in his search. When Dorian finally found the leather bag that had somehow remained sealed and dry, a short dry laugh escaped him. Dorian found his velvet lined cloak with little rifling but stopped mid-reach in his search for the wide linen strip he kept rolled up with the other medical bandages. His brown eyes were stricken, and bare shoulders slumped forward with a sadness radiating from his very being.
"I am afraid. Bull. She is my very first real friend, she makes me so much more than myself and now something is wrong. I do not even have the littlest hint as to what it could be. I just don't know, Amatus. We do not understand the power of the mark at all. I need Skyhold's library. I may even be forced to consult Solas, as much as I might loath to. But for tonight I am going to be her friend, soothe her soul, play healer and get her very, very drunk." Bull held out one large arm and limply Dorian allowed Bull pull him down to his knees into his much larger frame. Tucking his head on top of the dark tresses gently, Bull wrapped his warm arms around the shuddering mage. Dorian's shivering was all from the heart and not from the cold or rain Iron Bull knew but he hoped to convey warmth through his embrace.
"The first thing we need Kadan is calm, her little firework show is over and we have some time to think. Let me tell you what I know, then if you think it is still about Envy you can tell me. She wouldn't want you to keep her secret if it meant something that could endanger us all." Pausing to adjust his legs Bull settled his lover back within his embrace. "I knew this young Barriasad once, who got promoted to captain of a unit. A lot of us thought he was too young, too inexperienced. Then on almost his very first mission he lost every single warrior in his ranks. He completed the mission though, by the skin of his horns. So they kept him in command. Over and over he completed the most dangerous and difficult missions, but the losses kept piling up. He stopped sleeping and his hair went white from the building pressure. He refused to see the Tamassrans, he couldn't let go of all the stress that fueled him forward. He started do really dangerous stuff, but his skills kept getting deadlier. He got to this point where he charged at the head of his team butt naked! Eventually all us captains got together and locked him in with this sweet little thing of a Tamassran for a couple days. When we finally let him out he was so relaxed that we had to slap him around till he sobered up. All solved. I don't know all of what went on in there… but the time and care seemed to have done the job."
Dorian chuckled slightly under his breath. "It's always about sex with you, so you think one good fuck and what we just witnessed will just go away? The Fade and the lightning? I don't even know where to start to fix this. Dwarves cannot be mages. They have no connection to the Fade." Dorian fretted as he cupped his elbow letting the fingers on his free hand delicately drum on his pursed lips.
"No, not one fuck, but it can't hurt. Where would you start if she was a human mage?" Bull said as he released Dorian and watched the man rummage around their tent for a few more items he was looking for.
"Where is the maraas-lok, I know you brought a flask along. Never mind, I found it. Always in the last place you look." Dorian said as he took a large swig of the bright amber colored liquor. With a shrug and a second pull of the sweet spicy drink he visibly began to regain his drive and spunk.
"You're stalling, Sparkler." Bull murmured soothingly as he left the tent flap to stretch out on his blessedly dry bedding. He would have to remember to thank Dorian later for heating it.
"I … well… I would observe and catalog the symptoms, I would give it time. Some magical maladies are known to resolve themselves. I would consult experts. I would ensure the patient is well rested, in good health and … free of stress." Dorian said as he finished shoving his sleeping roll in on top of the other supplies he might need for the night. Bull could not help the grin that slowly spread across his face.
"Don't you dare say anything, or I will spread the nastiest little rumor about your nug sized nipples." Dorian shot over his shoulder as stood and he strode to the pavilion's exit. With a flourish worthy of the stage the Tevinter mage settled the cloak about his shoulders and flipped the hood over his mussed hair. A heavy sigh fell from Iron Bull's gray lips as he watched his lover prepare to leave for the night.
Dorian stopped with tent flap in one hand and his pack in the other, his silhouette framed by the darkness of the of the overcast and drizzling night sky. "Do you really think that will help?"
"What? Sex? What doesn't it help. If you're asking all serious, ya when you lead sometimes you just need your cork popped to let off a little steam. Keeps everything in its place."
"I do not know if you're right about this. If it is just about the stress, but if we remove every symptom one by one all that is left is the real problem. I will do anything to help her, to ensure she never becomes what Envy wanted. Even if it means sharing you with her, Bull." Dorian tossed back his head, laughing slightly. "Two nugs with one net! Do not go getting all excited just yet, I am going to need one blighter of a plan to convince her and maybe some accomplices."
