Dragon

Ashavise liked dragons. Quite a lot, actually. They were a wonder of creation, all large bones and rippling muscles, bound together with unique sinews and wrapped up in breathtaking scales. She always felt a little bad killing them.

Bull liked killing them, so she usually took him with her. He didn't have any reservations on slaying the beautiful creatures. That was his form of worship, so Ashavise respected it.

"Thanks again, Boss!" Bull called out, grinning as he stood covered in blood. One of his horns had gotten a little singed from the dragon's fire breath.

She shook her head a little at him, and moved to the side of the slain dragon. Pulling out a pocket knife, she set to work gently removing parts of it—scales and claws and the leathery skin of its wing. It made no sense to let it go to waste, rotting where it had died. Besides, she had found some books in the library about ancient dragon worshiping ceremonies—but, of course, all the good detail had been ripped out by the Chantry—and she wanted to see if dragon parts could enhance some of her experiments.

She could feel Bull looking over her shoulder, and could hear his heavy breathing as he watched her pick apart the dragon's corpse.

"I'm not letting it go to waste," she said, not looking up from her work. "There're a lot of medicines that come from dragons, you know, and I might use somethin' in a project."

"Well, don't limit yourself, Boss," Bull said, leaning down to pat her on the back. "I can carry some stuff if you want me to."

She felt a little bit of pink dust over her cheeks, still unused to being treated so kindly. And by someone terrified of magic, at that. It was a wonder that Bull was so willing to spend time with her, especially when missions usually consisted of her, Cole, Solas, and Varric. He'd even started to come around to her necromancy, despite having been thoroughly disturbed by it at first. She was more than aware necromancy made most people recoil.

She ended up with a good bucket's worth of dragon blood, dozens of scales and teeth, sixteen claws, and a bundle of wing leather.

As they traveled back to Skyhold—loaded in the back of a rickety wagon that was just sturdy enough to hold Bull, Solas, Ashavise, and Cole—she found herself falling into easy conversation.

As an elf, and a Dalish one at that, she hadn't exactly thought highly of qunari. They were giant, brutish things from up north, best to stay away from. But as she got to know Bull, her assumptions seemed unfair. He was intelligent and kind, had a good sense of humor, and didn't look down on her for being an elf. Well, he did physically, but that was all.

"Since dragons were thought to be extinct until less than fifty years ago, most dragon-based recipes were disregarded," Ashavise said, fiddling with a claw in her hand. "A shame, really."

"You elves used to kill dragons?" Bull asked, chuckling. "Are you all we must love and protect nature! people?"

"You do realize a good portion of Dalish clans are hunters, right?" She said back, an eyebrow raised. "We aren't exactly herbivores."

He nodded to himself, smiling. "Fair point."

• • ♡ • •

Turns out, dragon blood really invigorates the undead. She had to chase down a rogue skeleton that had escaped via her balcony and set to terrorizing whatever human it could find. If she wasn't so worried about having people for defeating Corypheus, she probably would've let it go until it tired itself out.

Bits of dragon were strewn about her already chaotic chambers—scales were pushed onto her makeshift slab alongside one of her current undead projects, and wing leather hung from the beams of her canopy bed. She'd find a use for it all eventually.