Astarion gives Gale a meaningful glance, too, one that says keep your mouth shut or I'll crush your crystal balls. A moment of hostility, and then he smiles, pleasant. Even waves. "Farewell!"
The moment Gale is gone—and they're unfortunately back out into, ugh, nature—he relaxes, tension seeping out of him. "I thought he'd never leave." On top of the whole 'figured out Astarion's horrible secret' thing, he's just sort of irritating.
"But! Now that he has." Astarion looks into the distance with his darkvision, squinting. "How far would you say that lovely fortress of yours is? An hour?" Hopefully: "Half hour?"
"Gotta find out where the fuck we are, first," says Bull. He can't see in the dark, so he's walking quickly while it's still twilight, following the field's fence, hoping to find the farmhouse of whoever owns the druffalo and steal a light. He looks a lot better than he did yesterday, confident and alert.
"Still, I'd adjust your expectations. You know how to ride a horse?" He knows Astarion is a city boy, and is now a little more aware of his complicated situation, but he acts like the kind of guy whose family owns a stable.
Astarion has no idea if he knows how to ride a horse. To say so would be embarrassing, so instead he says, "I don't care for horses. Temperamental beasts." Like looking in a mirror. "I thought I'd just ride on your back instead."
"Well," Astarion says with a sniff, "I'm certainly sizeable where it counts." Heh. But he definitely doesn't want to actually end up piggybacking across the country, so— "Perhaps horses in this realm are more gentle and well-behaved. I guess I can offer them a second chance."
Dick jokes are unfortunately the way to Bull's heart. "If you change your mind, there's a riding crop with your name on it." 50/50 on whether that's a joke, he's a freak. But they're coming up on the house now, so he hushes Astarion.
"Take ten," he says, "I'm just gonna knock, have a chat. Fereldens can be weird about thinking elves are gonna use them in some ritual sacrifice." Probably won't love the idea of a qunari this far south amd snooping around either but Bull can handle that.
Um, he does not appreciate being hushed. Especially because Bull was the one yapping about riding crops!!! But he keeps silent anyway, because this is a new and unknown territory, and he'd rather not get staked in the chest before he can really live. It works out, anyway. He's far too weak from malnourishment to really make any meaningful travel, but while Bull talks, he can go searching for some farm animal no one will miss.
There is one teeny, tiny little rock in his shoe, though: "You neglected to mention anti-elf sentiment when you were describing this place," he hisses. The broader racism he doesn't particularly care about—he feels no kinship with his fellow elves—but the individual effects are certainly unpleasant.
Bull pauses a moment. "It's not everywhere. The co-ruler of the country west of here is an elf. The Inquisitor is an elf. Plenty of people don't give a crap."
Then he sighs, spreads his hands, admits: "But some places in the South get weird about elves and theor elf gods. Probably think I'm think I'm gonna rape all their daughters and pillage their gold for the Qun. I cam teach you the right shit to lie about while we walk."
Astarion furrows his brow and gives Bull a Look™. He has no idea what an Inquisitor is, aside from an elf. Someone who goes around Inquiring, apparently. He also hasn't the foggiest idea what a Qun is, but all of this will have to wait.
"Fine. I'm just going to... take a walk around the property while you convince whichever hicks live here that we aren't interested in defiling or ritually sacrificing their daughters."
"Sure." Bull doesn't believe him but doesn't ask. "Don't get caught, feel like kicking this all off with another fight would be kinda... inauspicious."
He hesitates one moment longer about leaving Astarion to his own devices, then decides, fuck it. Whatever happens is what happens. He goes to knock on the door.
Turns out they're on the outskirts of the Hinterlands, in the Redcliffe farming region, which is a lucky break because Bull's been out this way a few times, and he knows where to find people who'll know him, safe passage up the mountains. The farmer doesn't know of Bull specifically, but respects the Inquisitor — not because of her status as Andraste's Chosen, or the magic hand that closes the breaches in the Fade, or even kicking the Venatori out of Redcliffe village a few leagues west. It's because she's kind to druffalo, apparently, and brought a lost one back to his neighbour. Usually Bull finds Lavellan's determination to undertake every minor errand personally kind of a character flaw, but today he's grateful for it.
When he heads back out of the house to meet Astarion, he's got a pack with some food and water, rope, a small compass, and a lantern.
Astarion is a bit more rumpled than he was before, has the beginnings of a bruise on his temple and horn scratches on his cheek. Fucking creature—some sort of bovine, he's not sure. He'd barely managed to get any blood out of it before it fought back, and now he has fur in his teeth. Note to self: slit their throats first next time.
He's smoothing down his hair when Bull comes back out. With a quick glance at the supplies— "What in the hells is the rope for?"
At first it's too dark to see Astarion's beat face, Bull still lighting the lantern while he walks. "Tying up the horses we're gonna buy," Bull says, and then, with a hint of a smile, "But I'm open to other suggestions." Yeah.
Once he has light, though, he glances over at Astarion, the red marks on his cheek. "You run into something out there?" he asks, because if it was a demon that's concerning and if it was an animal that's funny. "Or just get slapped by the farmer's daughter?"
Usually, a joke like that would garner—at best—a forceful exhale approximating humor. Now, Astarion laughs like it's sooo funny. He's starting to realize that the power dynamics here aren't in his favor; before, Bull had to include him because of his access to coin, but now there's nothing stopping him if he finds Astarion too annoying and wants to abandon him on the side of the road.
So, obsequious laughter, and a sidestep of how he really got injured.
"I... tried to pet one of those... cows." Not a cow, but he's not sure what else to call it. "Nasty little thing attacked me unprovoked."
Eager to get off that particular subject: "Go on, then. Which way to civilization?"
Bull's still thinking about that laugh. It's not the first time one of them has made a dirty joke, or Bull's said something flirty just to keep his hand in. It's the first time Astarion's acted friendly, though, and he can't tell if it's residual mania or he thinks Bull expects gratitude. Hm.
Either way, he pays so much attention to that he doesn't think much about Astarion petting druffalo.
"This way," he says, already walking. "We'll requisition mounts at Redcliffe, ride to Haven, I'll send word ahead so we have an escort up the mountain. Not gonna be a half hour stroll, but if we'd come out in Par Vollen we would have had a month's sea journey ahead of us, so the mage got us pretty close."
The meager amount of blood in his system helps a little, but he's still quite fatigued even just from the events of yesterday, and not particularly confident about keeping up physically until they can steal—he assumes??? What else does 'requisition' mean—some horses. (Not confident about whether he can actually ride one, either, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.) Another reason to be on his absolute most likable behavior now. If he's too slow, Bull might think twice about all of this, but if he can endear himself enough, he might receive some sympathy.
Honestly, he doesn't really hear the details of their upcoming journey. He's too busy forcing himself to trudge after Bull.
"And— you know, I hate to point this out, but those yokels didn't give you any tents." Meaning that if the sun comes up before they reach shelter, he'll burn to a crisp. "So it seems we're on a bit of a time crunch here."
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The moment Gale is gone—and they're unfortunately back out into, ugh, nature—he relaxes, tension seeping out of him. "I thought he'd never leave." On top of the whole 'figured out Astarion's horrible secret' thing, he's just sort of irritating.
"But! Now that he has." Astarion looks into the distance with his darkvision, squinting. "How far would you say that lovely fortress of yours is? An hour?" Hopefully: "Half hour?"
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"Still, I'd adjust your expectations. You know how to ride a horse?" He knows Astarion is a city boy, and is now a little more aware of his complicated situation, but he acts like the kind of guy whose family owns a stable.
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"Take ten," he says, "I'm just gonna knock, have a chat. Fereldens can be weird about thinking elves are gonna use them in some ritual sacrifice." Probably won't love the idea of a qunari this far south amd snooping around either but Bull can handle that.
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There is one teeny, tiny little rock in his shoe, though: "You neglected to mention anti-elf sentiment when you were describing this place," he hisses. The broader racism he doesn't particularly care about—he feels no kinship with his fellow elves—but the individual effects are certainly unpleasant.
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Then he sighs, spreads his hands, admits: "But some places in the South get weird about elves and theor elf gods. Probably think I'm think I'm gonna rape all their daughters and pillage their gold for the Qun. I cam teach you the right shit to lie about while we walk."
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"Fine. I'm just going to... take a walk around the property while you convince whichever hicks live here that we aren't interested in defiling or ritually sacrificing their daughters."
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He hesitates one moment longer about leaving Astarion to his own devices, then decides, fuck it. Whatever happens is what happens. He goes to knock on the door.
Turns out they're on the outskirts of the Hinterlands, in the Redcliffe farming region, which is a lucky break because Bull's been out this way a few times, and he knows where to find people who'll know him, safe passage up the mountains. The farmer doesn't know of Bull specifically, but respects the Inquisitor — not because of her status as Andraste's Chosen, or the magic hand that closes the breaches in the Fade, or even kicking the Venatori out of Redcliffe village a few leagues west. It's because she's kind to druffalo, apparently, and brought a lost one back to his neighbour. Usually Bull finds Lavellan's determination to undertake every minor errand personally kind of a character flaw, but today he's grateful for it.
When he heads back out of the house to meet Astarion, he's got a pack with some food and water, rope, a small compass, and a lantern.
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He's smoothing down his hair when Bull comes back out. With a quick glance at the supplies— "What in the hells is the rope for?"
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Once he has light, though, he glances over at Astarion, the red marks on his cheek. "You run into something out there?" he asks, because if it was a demon that's concerning and if it was an animal that's funny. "Or just get slapped by the farmer's daughter?"
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So, obsequious laughter, and a sidestep of how he really got injured.
"I... tried to pet one of those... cows." Not a cow, but he's not sure what else to call it. "Nasty little thing attacked me unprovoked."
Eager to get off that particular subject: "Go on, then. Which way to civilization?"
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Either way, he pays so much attention to that he doesn't think much about Astarion petting druffalo.
"This way," he says, already walking. "We'll requisition mounts at Redcliffe, ride to Haven, I'll send word ahead so we have an escort up the mountain. Not gonna be a half hour stroll, but if we'd come out in Par Vollen we would have had a month's sea journey ahead of us, so the mage got us pretty close."
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Honestly, he doesn't really hear the details of their upcoming journey. He's too busy forcing himself to trudge after Bull.
"And— you know, I hate to point this out, but those yokels didn't give you any tents." Meaning that if the sun comes up before they reach shelter, he'll burn to a crisp. "So it seems we're on a bit of a time crunch here."