Chapter Text
Kirah Adaar sat at her table on the first floor of the Herald’s Rest. It was a good spot to relax, even if she did overhear the patrons occasionally whispering about her in sibilant bursts. As the only female Vashoth in the Inquisition, everyone knew who she was. Kirah took this largely in her stride. She was used to people staring. Her human father told her it was because she was beautiful, but she knew it was because she was so strange-looking compared to pretty much everyone else. Kirah smiled. Silly, wonderful papa.
Dorian rounded the corner with no fewer than six tankards of Fereldan beer. Even so encumbered, he had a powerful grace about him and an exuberance Kirah appreciated. It reminded her of Sataa: arrogant, handsome and threw himself into fights with a ferocious grace. Back in Haven, Shrokrakar sent news of his death and it had been a terrible shock. Kirah transferred all her affection to Dorian the moment she saw him, but Dorian was one of a kind and that deflected fondness was becoming deeper as they travelled, fought, and of course drank, together.
The mage frowned slightly in concentration as he lowered the many beers carefully, a purple sparkle showing he’d used a touch of magic to achieve the feat.
‘Are we expecting company?’ Kirah asked, taking in the six draughts.
‘No,’ Dorian replied, raising an eyebrow mischievously. ‘My dear Inquisitor, the queue at the bar is unacceptable and the first beverage doesn't count, as you well know.’
Kirah laughed and grabbed the first one with an approving nod. She clinked it with Dorian’s before taking a long sip, eyes closed, savouring the malty aftertaste. She needed this. It had been a tough day, even by their standards.
Cassandra, Varric and Dorian had joined Kirah in Crestwood in her bid to track down and eliminate bandits as part of the area's final clean up. They'd traipsed the length and breadth of the land and successfully taken down several separate groups, including some unexpected Red Templars. But as they made their way back to the camp they came upon a few stragglers. For a fleeting moment, Kirah thought about bypassing them and coming back another day. After all, their potions were depleted and everyone was tired, but it would have meant a return trip and they were all utterly fed up with the place. So... they plunged in, were less careful and caught three druffalo in the cross-fire. Of course, this resulted in an angry charge by the iron-skinned beasts and all descended into chaos. Kirah was smashed into a rock and broke several ribs, Cass dislocated a shoulder, Dorian was knocked unconscious by a rogue sneaking up behind him and at one point Varric was flung through the air by a vicious head-butt.
‘Better?’ Dorian asked.
Kirah opened her eyes and nodded. She was hardly going to reveal the creeping terror that if a few rogues and druffalo could nearly cripple her party, how the fuck were they going to crush Corypheus?
Dorian’s eyes narrowed a moment as though he’d read her thoughts. ‘Keep drinking,’ he commanded.
***
After her third tankard, Kirah felt far more relaxed. She smiled tipsily at Dorian who was regaling her with tales of treachery and wild dancing in Minrathous. She loved his bright eyes. Were they blue-grey or blue-green? She mused. They seemed to change depending on the light or his mood.
Maryden, the Inquisition bard, began singing that jaunty number about Sera.
‘Ooh I rather like this one!’ Dorian interrupted himself to exclaim.
Kirah chuckled. ‘Me too, but I probably should talk to the singer. Sera made an official complaint.’
‘Ugh,’ scoffed Dorian. ‘I’ve seen the way Sera looks at her. I tell you, Inquisitor, she wants to get into her knickers with equal fervour.’
‘Ah,’ Kirah began, tapping the side of her tankard. ‘So you’re saying that prickly, defensive attitude belies a heart that wants to love and be loved? Scandalous!’
‘Well, she’s not the only one,’ Dorian mused, tipping his head in The Iron Bull's general direction. The Qunari was sitting among the Chargers on the ground floor. Kirah gave a wry smile. She'd waved at him earlier, hoping he would join them, but he'd merely waved back and carried on drinking with his crew.
‘You know, I’ve been dropping some hefty hints and seeing as he’s Ben-Hassrath I can safely assume he understands my meaning,’ Kirah complained.
Dorian's eyes narrowed disdainfully. ‘I'm confused. He’s shagged an obscene number of people since joining the Inquisition.’
Kirah frowned, ‘I know.'
Dorian reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘Perhaps he thinks he’s unworthy of you. I mean, I know I think that of him.’
Kirah smiled, but she felt utterly rejected. First, Cullen turned her down flat back in Haven and now Bull. But the latter was the one that stung.
When she first saw Bull on the Storm Coast shore... phwoar! What a scene. His huge grey muscles wet with rain and those horns were... imposing. He made her feel small, which was so rare and an incredible turn-on. The way he'd laughed when he saw her, acknowledging their shared heritage... a deep, rich laugh that resonated through her. Well...
Not long afterwards, she'd overheard a Chantry healer talking about a wild night with Bull which left her walking funny... So, Kirah knew he was a randy bugger. It had all been so promising.
But now Kirah felt short-changed. She couldn't and wouldn't throw herself at the man. She was the damned Inquisitor! And yet she really needed to let off some steam. Oh well. Right now, she could do worse than the company of an adorable gay mage and copious amounts of beer...