Chapter Text
In spite of Inquisition flags, the roads are far from safe.
Thankfully, years of careful Tevinter breeding see to it that Dorian and Ligea are more than ready for battle at a moment’s notice. Her magical support compliments Dorian's offensive capabilities as she uses her alluring song to raise everyone's spirits (And sometimes hasten their movements, but that’s a quibble about time magic and ethics for another day). Her songs are far more elegant than Cassandra’s war cries or the Bull's bellowing, that’s for sure; and though some may doubt the battle readiness of his preening companion, her abilities are bloody useful in a pinch.
Like now: ambushed upon the main road by a Red Templar flank attack.
After the first strike they seamlessly form up, the warriors—including their bloody stubborn mage of an Inquisitor—at the front, and Dorian slipping back for a better vantage point. Ligea does not need constant commands; instead she darts this way and that, the Altaria’s unwavering song keeping their guard up, and lending them all newfound strength. From the corner of his eye, Dorian clocks the positions of his teammates, notes the way their Inquisitor stands taller, launching a powerful barrage of spells that freezes the first wave of enemies in place for Cassandra to run clear through with her sword, shattering them to pieces.
Bull meanwhile, has gone ahead to handle the Templar reinforcements, roaring and swinging his giant maul down upon the head of a slavering Arcanine—it quickly goes down in a lump of fur and gore. It’s not the only one; there’s a whole pack of these "Red Dogs”—twice the size of the average hound and bristling with Red Lyrium sores—heading their way. Without a word, the Bull rushes to meet them, the Inquisitor and Cassandra on his heels. Dorian whistles sharply, twice, and Ligea flaps after them—weaving together another battle-song.
That leaves Dorian a space of time to prime a lightning cage that he raises to trap most of the pack—but there’s still three that charge through with gaping jaws and blank eyes. Bull’s got gauntlets on today so he grabs the first one that tries to get past him, hurling it bodily towards the others so that two Red Dogs go down in a snarling heap. Ligea zips in with a blast of cutting Fade-summoned wind to tear them to ribbons, the Inquisitor following up with another ice spell of their own to make sure the beasts stay down.
Unfortunately, there's still the issue of the third dog that got away from the Bull—zipping past Cassandra as it locks onto Dorian, and lunges forward with a gurgling snarl. But then—there's the smallest flash of fur—coral pink and soft, impossibly soft--
And the Red Dog is brought to a screeching halt with a wicked spell of some sort, only to be slammed down to the ground. Bull is a walking fortress and it's no wonder that his Slyveon is the same, her eyes bright and glowing lyrium blue as she launches spell after spell, tinged with the distinct Fade energy that "fairy" types native to Orlais thrum with. Really, she’s no more than a pink puff of fur, but still, she stands protectively in front of Dorian, hackles raised and lips curled back over sharp little fangs.
Ligea, who knows better to stay well away when the Sylveon launches her, finally comes to her familiar rest upon his covered shoulder when the hue and cry of battle dies down, nuzzling briefly against his cheek with a content little hum. And when she's sure that her much larger, heavier and rabid opponent has long gone cold, Bull’s Sylveon pads over to Dorian's side, her tail wagging for a job well done and looking for a skritch behind her ear. He indulges her—just this once—hopefully while Bull can’t see, far up ahead and probably helping the Inquisitor and Cassandra deal with the grim work of looting. A gentle scratch behind one of those big, ridiculously floppy ears, and that should be the end of it.
"Ha, ha! The best dog always gets them in the end!" Bull bellows from ahead, utterly fond of his little companion—and of course, utterly fond of teasing Dorian.
“We already went over this: Eevee and their evolutions are not part of the Canini, they’re Vulpini!” Dorian retorts back sharply in reply; and there’s some comfort in their usual banter, a sure sign that all’s well after the scuffle.