((I couldn’t decide which one of these I wanted to use so you got both.))

The cab of the truck is pleasantly cool with the window rolled down and the afternoon light just peeking in. Kal is curled up on the passenger seat, feet up on the dash as they drive down the highway, absently staring out the window at the autumn trees flashing by.

It’s not… strictly by the book that he’s got her in the cab, instead of getting her to drive herself home or catch the bus, but he’s not in one of the big rigs and he hasn’t got a load on, and the audition was on the way back to the depot so it made sense to swing past and pick her up on the way through. Besides, her dancer’s legs up on the dash like that in those tiny little things she calls shorts are more than worth breaking a few rules the way they glow in the afternoon sun, and if the boss of the company doesn’t get to bend a few rules just because he’s the boss, what’s the good of it then?

“We should get a dog.”

Lavellan fell face-first onto the bed with a groan that bordered on the obscene.

“So I take it you’re not even going to take off your shoes, Kadan?” Bull asked, stepping towards her.

Her limbs flailed in a non-committal way and she made another indistinct noise into the pillow. Bull laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her still-booted feet into his lap. His fingers absently tugged at the laces as he looked over the slip of elfin back in front of him.

“Rough trip?”

Lavellan tilted her head to the side so that she could speak without being muffled by the pillow. Her eyes were closed, her hair falling over her face. “I love Kai dearly but after five days in the saddle even my patience with him gets strained.” She said, by way of explanation.

“Well, perhaps if you chose a halla that was less spirited, you wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Hnn.”

Bull knew that was as close to agreement that he was going to get. As much as she complained about him, it would take a horsemaster more skilled than Dennet to convince Lavellan to give up her much-loved steed. He gently slid off her boots and rested her feet in his lap, running a hand gently along her calf. Her toes flared and wiggled against his leg and she gave a happy sigh.

She was not completely still, though. Little fidgets and tremors ran over her, and as Bull watched, her shoulders twitched under her clothes. He let out a soft breath of laughter, reaching over and lightly running his nails over her back.

“Putting the Ben Hassrath training to good use, I see.” Lavellan quipped, still not opening her eyes.

“That’s me. Years of training to become a personal back-scratcher.”

“Lower and to the left.”

He obliged, and she let out another satisfied noise.

Bull felt his expression soften as he watched Lavellan on the bed. It was still a strange and almost foreign concept to him, this sort of relaxed quiet that held no promise of anything other than easy companionship. He knew he could easily turn things heated if he wished, but she was exhausted (that much was obvious) and he found he didn’t wish to – he was content to just sit here with her feet on his lap as she slowly drifted off to sleep after a long journey.

It was strange, but not unwelcome.

“Hey, Kadan, can I ask you something?”

She didn’t say anything, but one of her eyes cracked open and she sleepily forced herself to focus on him.

“You don’t flirt with Cassandra anymore.”

There was a short moment when Bull almost regretted asking because Lavellan’s eyes suddenly fell into a sharp wariness. “Maybe I finally realised I wasn’t getting anywhere.” She hedged.

Sometimes Bull wished that his Ben Hassrath training hadn’t been so thorough, and that his urge to chase down secrets to their core was curbed easier. He remembered that she explained that the markings she had on her face were her pledge to a god of secrets, that the reason why she’d been able to become the inquisitor in the first place was because she was a spy before she’d been anything else. He’d found it a strange twist of irony, or the start of a bad joke – so a dalish spy and a ben hassrath walk into Skyhold…

He sighed. “You always knew you weren’t going to get anywhere.” He told her, “You were mostly just doing it to get a rise out of her.”

And she’d flirted with Dorian to get him on side, and had avoided everyone else except for Bull himself because they were all the sort of people that wanted more than she thought she could give them. Bull realised his hand had stopped on her back, so he gently started scratching again, lightly pushing his fingers into muscles that were suddenly too tense.

Lavellan fell quiet for a long moment. Then, all at once, she propped her head up on her folded arms and looked away from him towards the headboard. “Maybe.” She said. She pressed her forehead to her arms and let out an explosive breath.  

Bull frowned at the lingering tenseness that was in the air, that hadn’t been there moments before. He remained quiet, knowing that the words Lavellan needed to hear also needed to be spoken by her or she’d be running away from whatever they had faster than a nug from a wyvern, but it was… surprisingly hard to hold his tongue, keep his fingers moving over her back and just wait for the response he knew she was formulating in her mind.

In the end, it was simple. “Maybe I found something better.” She said, turning her head to look at him, her mouth quirked into a charinged grin. “I mean, Cass’ hands are tiny. No good for back scratches at all.”

And even as Bull laughed at her, all he could think was that it was a start.

—-

(Sorry this took so long, dude.)

14. If you could compare your OC to an animal, which would they be?

A Halla. Dainty and deceptively strong and wild. Ridiculously long, slender limbs. 

She’s very slow to trust and very skittish, particularly when it comes to love. (Part of the reason why she and Bull just… go together so well ugh. I love it when a head-cannon comes together.) Once you get past that, though, she’s a gentle soul, intelligent and with a wicked, dry sense of humour that just might throw you if you’re not careful. 

3. Religious beliefs?

As she’s very fond of reminding everybody, she’s Dalish and follows the Dalish gods. 

She nearly hit the Chantry sister for suggesting that there should be room in her pantheon for the Maker, given that there’s already so many Dalish gods. 

She very much doesn’t believe that the events of Inquisition have had anything to do with the Maker, thank-you-very-much, and will slap the next person who calls her the ‘Herald of Andraste’ or ‘Your Worship.’

7. Something they’re proud of?

…Oh, that’s a hard one. She’s not really proud at all, but probably her heritage, even if the events around the Inquisition make her start to doubt dalish superiority. She came into it very much against Shems and now she’s working with so many who put up with her brittle crap and have very real problems and talents that she’s slowly losing the superiority complex and accepting that her people may not be any better or worse than anyone else. 

I’d still say she’s proud of her heritage, but no longer in that “I’m better than you, Shem!” way she had going at the start.