ACT II: Wild Thing


I spent the night in nightmares.

No figures. No faces. There were roars in the shadows of my mind. Desperate ones, like the beast was snagged in a trap and screaming to escape. My heart thundered under my ribs. I couldn't remember how many times I woke up in the night with sleep paralysis gripping me tight. Solas was there each time with a towel over my forehead and eyes, a soothing spell of ice cast into it to calm me. It felt bitter against my skin, but I accepted it for lack of anything better.

I woke up in tears the next day. Wrenching, chest aching sobs that dragged my tears down my face and stung against my lips. The endless thoughts that I had irreversibly changed myself, my genetics, my blood for this terrified me. I felt loose under my own skin, every shift induced my gag reflex and I grew more disgusted with myself as the hours ticked on toward mid-morning.

Nothing I did stopped them. All the little tricks I had grown up with to control my anxieties or combat my fears were obliterated in the early morning light and every movement caused me pain. I rolled into the bedcovers and screamed into my pillows, distraught and looking for any form of release from the cramps and seizures that rolled through me.

There was no telling the origin of the pain, but I was a wreck.

I was in bed all morning. My voice had been wrenched from its voice box and vanished with my screaming. The room had gone quiet, but Solas stayed with me, circling my room and my bed with the pace of an anxious father who's healing spells failed each time. There was no strength in me to move or comfort him, to show him some effort that I would be alright, that I would survive. In the moment of that morning, I hated everything.

People die for this power, I thought with a broken heart.

Then let them die, the bitter, traumatized part of it hissed.

At one point, Solas had come to me and gently pulled the covers away from my face. A cold hand rested on my cheek and I could see his mouth move for words but heard nothing come from his lips. Regardless, he wanted me to agree to something, so I did with a small nod of my head and a blink of my eyes. I don't care what you want. Just take it and leave. He pressed his hand against my cheek a bit more insistently before pulling away and leaving me alone in my bedroom.

I don't know how long he was gone. My muscles trembled under the blankets despite the warmth they captured against me. Anger continued to boil in my gut, shoving at the cramps in my lower bowels. I hate this. Why would anyone want this? Power isn't worth this shit. My fingers shook as I gripped my blankets and yanked them back, exposing my body to the chilly air of my bedroom.

My skin itched as I dressed into a loose tunic and leggings. White noise crawled up and down my nerves like a vicious numbness after too long a sit. It brought new tears to my eyes, ones that dropped just from exhaustion and emptiness. My body was simply reacting because it had no other way to voice its frustrations. Secured in my clothing with my hair tied back, I centered myself in my room before the fireplace and stretched.

I did the lunges first to get rid of the spider bites that nipped at my calves. Five sets of ten.

Toe touches were next. Same amount of sets. The claws going down my back disappeared as my muscles loosened.

Push ups created a new burn through my arms that chased away the ants crawling under my skin.

Another set and my body was churning with a different heat.

By the fortieth push up, my elbows protested and I smacked into the carpet with a hearty thud. My lungs pumped slow to keep me from going dizzy and sweat trickled down my ears and cheeks instead of tears. I stayed in place and listened intently to the drum of my heart. My body buzzed like a hive, but at least I had managed some semblance of control.

Someone cleared their throat near the staircase to my room. Deep breath, Jams. Tears stung my eyes and carefully I brought my arms close to push myself up. Locked elbows held me upright enough that I could curl my torso to sit back on my haunches, my arms hanging from my bent knees.

Bull was at the landing of the stairs.

"... why am I not surprised to see you?" I croaked, my voice a venom against my throat. Bull contemplated me from a distance, one hand on the banister head and his feet planted squarely in my room. He hesitated and the stillness of it unnerved me. I could see his chest rise and fall, but I didn't miss the stutter it shuddered through to control the breath he took.

I turned away and looked at the carpet under me, annoyed that I could spot the detail.

"Are you upset with me?" Bull asked neutrally. "Solas asked that I come to help you, but I want to know where this conversation needs to start."

"I'm not upset with you." I felt out of place, each limb felt like a different puzzle piece to an amalgamation of other puzzles. Nothing responded the way I wanted it to, everything hurt, and each atom in my body was attempting to wrench itself in opposite directions.

"Give me an idea of what you're feeling." Bull asked quietly. He kept his hand on the banister and I wondered if he was planning to use it as a shield against me, or a lever to run from me. A shudder ran through me as I hit the brakes on that train of thought; you're not a predator, Jams. Stop it. A sarcastic response lit inside my mouth, but I knew better. He was here to help me and even if I was bitter about every breath I took, I couldn't turn that away.

I drew my hands together uselessly and exhaled.

A count to three and then inhale.

"I'm still on fire." I croaked again, every word a scrape. "I can feel it, all throughout my skin, into my bones. My brain is rattling in my skull and every limb is jolting with — something."

"Solas told me you were stuck in bed, you couldn't move." Bull glanced at the bed, then at me, his good eye assessing the distance between us. A nasty thought ran through my head, unbidden of you couldn't escape me if you tried and it made my fists clench.

"I can move. I was refusing to move for him." I winced, the honesty of the statement a slap in the face. Where is this coming from? Why am I so angry? Thram said my attitude wasn't going to change — am I just being nasty for no reason? My gaze snapped to Bull and I keep my mouth tight.

"Why?" Bull prodded, still in the same place, his one eye leveled on me.

"I don't know. There's a lot of… hate in me right now." I hesitated on the word for how strong it was and how heavy it felt against my tongue. It was like I had never experienced the emotion before now and it took everything in my soul not to throw up at the thought of it. Bull tilted his head and continued to study me. What did he see, I wondered. What plan was he trying to formulate that would get me to behave?

"Have you eaten?" He blindsided me with the question. I glared at him, but he merely raised an eyebrow.

"... no." I answered quietly, unsteady. "Why?"

"Think about it, Boss." Bull took one solid step into the room. He approached me quietly, offering me an escape and keeping a safe distance. Did he think I would leap from the windows? I paused, sighing. You know, I probably would, I'm being that kind of petty. My attention refocused on my hands and I forced my chaotic thoughts to straighten up.

Think about it, Boss.

What was there to think about? I was angry. I was hurting. I had cramps in muscles that manifested only last night. My head was threatening nuclear combustion through my temples and my blood pressure was in absolute turbulence that the slightest movement upset everything I was balancing.

"You're angry. You're restless. You're tired." Bull prompted again, straining on his words. "Your body changed. How? Think." A growl formed low in my throat, but I swallowed it. What the fuck do you want? I internalized the anger and ripped through my thoughts, looking for whatever fucking answer he wanted.

I blinked.

"Irritability." I exhaled, rubbing my palms together. The Mark had been silent since last night. Dull, but mostly forgotten. "Hyperactive bodily reactions. Impulsive thoughts and actions."

"When was the last time you actually ate, Boss?" Bull pushed, taking another step toward me. He stopped just beyond the small couch against the railing. I paused and thought about it, my mind racing through my memory. A fond one, a recent one.

"You fed me." I answered, surprised. I turned a glance toward him. "Cider. Bread. Apple."

"Do you realize how much I eat in a day?" Bull explained, his head tilted the other way.

"You're shitting me," I stood up on wobbly knees, "I'm hungry? I'm throwing a hissy fit because I'm hungry?"

"Not so much a surprise when you're dragon-blooded." Bull shook his head. He reached into his pocket of his pants and pulled out a small apple. "That's going to taste like dirt, but it'll help with your headache. We'll get something stronger from Cabot." I stared at the apple and him for a moment before taking a tentative bite.

The second the taste hit my tongue, I nearly swallowed the whole thing.

"That's what I thought." Bull sighed, walking over back to the couch and flopping down into it. "Thram shouldn't have forgotten to tell you that your body changes in more ways than one." I had devoured the apple at this point. He hadn't been wrong, the texture had been nothing but mud, but the juices had been enough to get me to eat it.

"You mean to tell me that I'm going crazy because of hunger in less than a day's time?" I swiped at my mouth with the back of my sleeve. I should have been embarrassed at how ravenously I had eaten, but there wasn't an ounce of fuck all to care about it.

"Look. I don't know the exact study behind it, but the dragon blood is dangerous." Bull started, leaning back into the cushions. "It heightens your senses, your strength increases, your body gets stronger, but not without a price."

"And drinking the blood was only half the payment?" I asked for clarification.

Bull nodded. "You bet. I told you, it changes you, forever. You won't get tired as easily after this, but you'll get weak pretty quick with no food. You won't be able to go a day without some form of exercise, you'll go crazy."

"That explain the limping Sisters I see every once and awhile?" I shot back sarcastically, a lingering sense of jealousy escaping my coiled anxieties. The Qunari snorted with half a smile on his lips and shrugged, unashamed. Not that I expected he would be, he never hid his extracurricular activities before.

"Got to get rid of it somehow, and if someone's willing…?" He raised an eyebrow at me, but I wasn't in the mood for his flirts (as much as I appreciated them). I waved a hand at him and rolled my shoulders, the anxiousness that crawled through my skin was slowly ebbing away.

"So, I'm going to have to eat more, and exercise more… did my metabolism increase?" I reached up and scratched at my head, wandering my way over toward the couch to take a seat next to him. Bull leaned against the armrest at his side and gave me space while he kept an eye on me.

It would explain a lot if it did. Perhaps the science of consuming the dragon blood was a bit deeper than just drinking it. I had no scientific basis on what it could do, aside from seeing the mages using the blood as an alchemical ingredient. Could it have changed my blood? Like a blood transfer? Is that why everything hurts, is my body rejecting it like a donated organ? I rubbed my temples and leaned back on the couch, my legs stretching out.

"I should have asked more questions. I should have known better than to just leap in." I muttered mostly to myself. Bull's horns tilted as he looked over to me.

"Maybe. No one really knows what happens to the body once the dragon blood changes it." Bull shrugged and shifted in his seat to lean his shoulder closer to mine. He shared a look with me, "You said you weren't going to let fear stop you, didn't you?"

I glared at him.

"You're not wrong. This isn't fear, not totally. It's just… anger." I answered with a grunt, sitting up. I nudged at his shoulder lightly and for a moment I stared at my hand. It wasn't quite the level of spidey-sense, not in the way I had known it from the comics, but almost. A level of intensity to the world that I hadn't noticed before.

Like feeling his heartbeat in my palm.

"Besides," I hastily snatched my hand back, alarmed by the sensation, "I'm not stopping because I want to, I just… I guess it's buyer's regret? I dunno." What I felt through my hand threw me off. I was accustomed to weird shit happening with The Mark, but not with any other of my limbs. My thoughts scattered as I wondered what else would start to filter through.

"Right." Bull eyed me curiously. He stood from the couch with a clap on his knee. "Well. Let's get you fed and see how the day looks after that, alright?"

"Right."

-0-

Cabot had been prepared for my incoming. Breakfast had long since past serving time, but the dwarf had a few plates laid out on one far corner of his counter, waiting for me. Half a ham, bread, an apple or two, and jams. I questioned none of it and sat in the corner to devour the food. Bull stayed with me and critically eyed each mouthful I took, monitoring my intake.

Had I not been struck by the sudden rumble of a starving stomach, I would have found it cute.

Alive, or at least fed, I was in a far more palpable mood than when I first awoke. I would have to make amends with Solas, for certain. It also allowed me a little more clarity to think through my next steps. Clearly the dragon's brew was more than just a potion. It had somehow changed me like a hyperactive steroid. My life going forward would be extremely far removed from whatever I had been in my old world.

I don't think I could go home like this, not even if I wanted to.

The implications were shoved off into the dark recesses of my mind for later digestion.

Once Bull had cleared me for duty, I took to finding my next targets. Solas, Dorian, and Leliana. Things were going to need to move quickly and I didn't have the luxury of an upset metabolism rocking my innards to have a sick day. Tying my hair up into a chaotic braid, I made my way up toward the Main Hall and scuttled my way toward Solas' terrority. Varric was still nowhere to be found after the incident with Cassandra, but I knew the dwarf wasn't one to stay away for long.

"Jaime." Solas greeted me over his shoulder. The elf had a smear of paint on his shoulder and down his arm, the brush was thick and swam across the wall in bright red. His tone alone halted me and I remained close to his table, waiting my turn when his attention was brought to me. A few strokes of the brush after and he glanced at me with a blink.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you." I immediately jerked my head in a small bow. "Apparently it was over an upset stomach." The tiniest of smirks touched the corner of his mouth and he sighed, setting the brush down on a tray and his pot of paint next to it.

"I would say it was not merely an upset stomach, my friend." Solas teased lightly, making his way toward his table. He sat in the chair across from me and I took a stool at the corner. "Then, my deduction that Bull would be of use to you was correct."

"Go figure, right?" I chuckled, rubbing at my neck nervously. "He figured out I hadn't eaten enough, and with the heightened senses from the dragon blood, it also affects, y'know, the whole thing." I gestured to myself with a wide hand circling my chest.

"Dragon's blood is volatile by itself, changing the land and very stone it spills upon." Solas nodded and folded his hands in his lap. "I apologize, I should have been more persistent in my questioning of Thram."

"Same here. I don't know why I was so ready to trust it, even knowing… what it had in it." I should not have been so accepting of the fact that the only way to improve was drinking dragon's blood and that was completely ignoring the fact that it was mixed with human's blood as well.

I was turning into a goddamn vampire for it.

"The sacrifices we make for power are far greater when we come to regret them." Solas replied solemnly, his gaze cast over my shoulder for the briefest of moments. Weird. He cleared his throat and brought his attention to my face, "As it is, I will keep a close watch on how this will affect the Mark. We've already seen part of its transformation last night."

"Oooh, fuck." I exhaled roughly and rubbed the heel of my palm into an eye with a wince. "So I didn't dream that, did I? Fuckity fuck."

Solas shook his head, "I'm afraid not. The Mark has taken its new power and manifested it in… interesting ways."

"The red claw." I murmured. With a glance at my palm, the Mark was quiet. My fingers curled around it and my gaze fluttered up to Solas. "What should we do? I don't know what triggers it. And we've got shit to do."

"I wouldn't suggest wandering out to the Western Approach just yet." Solas frowned at me. "Not with mages and Wardens looking to consolidate power."

I sighed with a shrug, "So, what? You suggest I go the other direction and fight the dragon in the Hinterlands?"

"Why not?"

"... fuck."