The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Coquette Blacquin]

She came from over there, he points out. And 'over there' is a long bunkhouse at the edge of the field -- the same one that Bull woke up in the first time he met the resident healer woman. The same chickens are even present, with their prosthetics. 

Bull pushes himself through the curtain and into the hut, where a young woman is wailing on the bed as Granny Mel fusses about. "Good, you must be the help. Start boiling water."

He almost can't hear the sound of her voice over the ringing in his ears. Mel. That's Mel. 

[The Iron Bull]

Uh, Ced? Kinda making things a bit hard to focus, Bull mentally grunts as he pivots in place to had to the small kitchen. "Like enough for a calf or a piglet. A foal?"

[Coquette Blacquin]

"foal. Just to be safe."

You don't understand. You don't understand that's Mel. A swamp rises inside him: sorrow, pain, guilt, shame. 

[The Iron Bull]

"Yah, I don't," Bull mutters to himself-- and Cedric-- as he gets a fire going. Who or what is a Mel? 

[Coquette Blacquin]

His vision tunnels, darkens, as the images in his mind overtake his eyes: a young girl, smiling shyly, her hair in a fat braid, watching a young man knead bread. Or rather, watching his forearms, mostly. A swelling of love and pride, of friendship and comfort and hope. 

[The Iron Bull]

Uh, okay? So... this Mel is... an old friend of yours from Alessia or something? Ced, you need to step back and collect yourself or something. You're acting like-- shit, are you having a panic attack?

[Coquette Blacquin]

Not from Alessa. She's the reason I exist. The reason we-- We failed her. We failed and she was taken and now she's here and you're here and we failed you too, we fail everyone

[The Iron Bull]

"Failed?" Bull mutters, glaring down at the heating water. Wait, water. Right. "Water's heating, what now?" he calls back to the healer.

[GamesMaster]

"Do they let ye carry a knife?" she snaps. "I think the cord's twisted. Might have to reach up there and cut it."

[The Iron Bull]

"Let me... yah, sure, let's go with let," Bull rumbles. "Need to clean it real quick tho; got a rinse or something?"

[GamesMaster]

"Ye'll need to sterilize it in the water once it's boiling. Got any fire magic on ye? No? Pity."

[The Iron Bull]

Bull grunts an affirmative, then grunts again as he peels the patch of resin backed bull-hide from his shoulder blade. A slim blade of dull black metal falls into his other hand. And there's a good bit of hair out by the root. Fuck that stings. You got your head back together, Ced? As he checks on the water, he grabs some ash from the fire pit to rub off as much of the resin as he can from the blade, leaving the tang sticky so he can wrap a rag or something around it after he cleans it to serve as a hilt.

[Coquette Blacquin]

You have to talk to her. Ask her if she hates me. No, don't ask that. That sounds pathetic. Ask if she remembers us. No, wait. Uh. Shit. Hang on, I'll figure out what to ask first. 

[The Iron Bull]

"So, uh, name's The Iron Bull. Well, that's what it translates to anyway. Call me Bull," the scarred warrior says in a passable attempt at conversational. "What's your name, Miss? Or Ma'am? Never was much good at figure'n when to use which of those."

[GamesMaster]

She turns to stare at him a moment. "Ye gone daft? Ye know me -- Miss Melissa, or Granny Mel to some."