Pride, Wolf and Rebellion

Woof

Iron Bull rallied everyone at Skyhold to the tavern to celebrate the kill of the Crestwood dragon. The throng cheered as Bull recounted the fight to end all fights. "Drinks are on me," he bellowed.

The crowd yelled its already half-sauced approval.

Iron Bull pulled Fen'Asha to a quiet corner of the tavern. He shook his head at her beverage of choice. "You don't want that swill, boss," he said. "This is what we drink after a fucking dragon." He poured a dark brew from his silver pitcher, the one with the burn marks on it.

The stuff burned going down and Fen'Asha nearly hacked up a lung.

Iron Bull told her of the Qunari's unique relationship to dragons, how his blood sang at the thought of the majestic beasts.

She struggled through Bull's nasty elixir. It made her head spin.

"Anaan," Bull hailed, clinking her glass as they finished another round. He patted her roughly on the back.

Fen'Asha didn't see Sera park her rump in the next spot.

"Hanging in there?" said the elf.

Fen'Asha nodded.

"I know what's going on," said Sera.

"Sera..." Fen'Asha breathed, her throat burning.

"You almost had me, but saw how you look at him. You're fucking in it."

"Huh?"

Sera leaned in close and giggled. "I bet he says 'elven glory' when he does it."

"Listen..." began Fen'Asha before the spinning got out of control.

Sera disappeared back into the din, her sniggering trailing with her. Mission accomplished.

Fen'Asha turned pink, then red, then some other colours.

It was too noisy in the tavern. She stumbled out into the night air. She wanted to see Solas. Needed to see Solas. Somehow she made her way to his rotunda. Somehow she found him facing the wall... Painting? Of course, he was painting...

She plopped heavily against his desk. "I did... saw...you... painted that," she slurred. "It's beautiful." She plunked down in his chair. It creaked desperately.

"Thank you, Inquisitor," Solas said. He put down the...brush or something.

"I specially like the worrves' things...whatnot," she attempted. "I'm a...woof."

"Are you?" Solas asked. He approached cautiously, like he would a darkspawn.

"Woof woman! That's me!" she raised her arm as if answering roll call. "I just love woofs. I worship the dead...woofs," she said. She dropped her arm in emphasis with a thwack on his table.

"Is that so?" Solas said. He put the back of his cool hand on her hot forehead.

"Oh yeah," she drawled. She leered up at him. "That's nice..."

"Do you think you can stand?"

"Uh huh," Fen'Asha said. She attempted the feat on the rickety floor. Someone was going to have to fix that. But before she'd begun to notify Solas that the floor was "crooked" and that she, the Inquishitter, was going to fix everything, she fell on him.

He picked her up without a sound.

She drearily wrapped her arms around his neck. "You smell..." she muttered. She nuzzled him, breathing him in. "So good..."