faderift | [open] got tired of wastin gas livin above the planet

WHO: Ser Cade and yoooouuu
WHAT: Futzing about, trying to suck less, possibly failing
WHEN: Before he leaves for Kinloch Hold and everyone's dreams are broken
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Lemme know if you want a specific starter! Also negative CR is always welcome (read: inevitable), so please don't be afraid to either provoke it or ask me how it could be provoked on my end.

He's here, he's fairly anti-queer, he's not quite as vanished as he always tries to be but considerably moreso than the average person!

Cade can be found in a variety of places for those who care to look or just happen upon him accidentally, for better or worse. One of such locations is

the library, where he can occasionally be found curled up in a chair with a dessert of some kind and a smutty romance novel that he'll pretend is anything but. He'd take them to his room, but that seems a whole lot more sinful so maybe not.

The kitchen is where he acquires the aforementioned sugary snacks, for which he has a particular fondness. One of the cooks likes him, which raises the Likes Cade tally to about four.

Another such place is the Herald's Rest, where he is That Guy In the Corner, but less mysterious and brooding and more awkward and afraid someone's going to demand his lunch money. He averts his eyes from most people, but will talk to them if they approach and have a stronger personality than his own (which isn't hard).

In the courtyard, on his breaks, he can often be found sitting against a wall and fiddling relentlessly with a puzzle box. It can be funny to watch, especially when he gets super frustrated and goes red all the way to his ears. Life's hard.

Lastly, those who have busienss with Seeker Darton or Knight-Commander Norrington will first have to penetrate the receptionist's desk, wherein Cade is at his most dutiful and confident unless someone deliberately tries to make him uncomfortable. Which they never would, that's ridiculous.
(Do not actually penetrate the desk.)

[If none of those make you happy, toss me a PM and we can set up a starter. Or give me a wildcard if you like!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As it turns out, there is a very strong personality who takes up quite a bit of space in the tavern, on most days. Bull tends to stay in his corner, where people can see him and steer clear or approach as they like, but he spies Cade and before long, he's making his way over.

"Hey. How're you doing?"

It's less boisterous than he is generally, actually sounding more like friendly concern than anything else. Hey. He's keeping an eye on the guy for a reason.

At the sound of a voice, Cade looks up uneasily-- and it's not that the unease goes away when he sees who it is, but there's at least a glint of recognition and a small lowering of his guard. The Iron Bull isn't going to punch him through a wall anytime soon, at least as far as he's aware.

"Um. Pretty good," he answers, and, after hesitating a moment, gestures lightly to the other chair at his table. There's stuff to talk about, and he's already starting to fidget.

It's sort of what Cade does, he notices. There's a restlessness to him. Even if he's off-duty as a templar, that energy's gotta go somewhere, eventually. They've spoken at some length about finding a channel for that, though nothing's been offered yet. Just ideas, something for the man to chew on.

Now, it might be time to check in on how that was going.

He lowers himself into the offered seat with a grunt, before motioning for his usual round of drinks. "You want anything?"

Cade considers briefly, then quickly shakes his head. "No... no thanks," he adds after a moment-- he's trying to get better about answering people verbally, since there are those who get aggravated when he doesn't.
There follows an awkward silence, as he waits for Bull to be served and fails to take the initiative of bringing up the topic at hand. He doesn't even know where to begin.

That's alright. Bull can deal with silences, settling in comfortably and picking a small, perhaps imaginary bit of dust off his shoulder pauldron. "Eh, suit yourself."

When the drink comes around, Bull gives the girl a smile and a wink, before glancing back down at Cade.

"So."

You want him to carry this conversation, Cade? Because he can.

It's Cade, he couldn't carry a conversation in a bucket.

He warily meets Bull's eyes, and abruptly wishes he had at least ordered tea, something to keep his hands busy. But here they are.
He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to build up the courage to speak, but also hoping his companion will get there first.

Alright. Taking the lead it is.

"Not having much luck in finding an outlet, are you?" Bull snorts softly, nodding to the set of Cade's shoulders. Stiff as a board. "Pretty obvious to the eye, even if you've only got the one."

It's not a disparaging tone, at least.

Cade shakes his head, then clears his throat again, murmuring "not entirely, no." He glances to Bull and away again, constantly assessing his expression, looking for any indication of anger or mockery.
"There are, um. ...a few things I do," he murmurs, looking down at his hands and somewhat afraid to elaborate, "but I still... worry. About control."

"Means you're not an idiot. Good start." He's not trying to be mean, the faint flicker at the corner of his mouth says as much. It's not mockery, more wry humor. Yeah, it sucks, doesn't it? Been there, done that.

"Feel like talking about what you've tried? We can start from there."

The Iron Bull's response is blunt, but the encouragement of it finds Cade a bit further emboldened. He's not an idiot. That's a good thing. The corner of his own mouth twitches upward, and he glances briefly into the Qunari's eyes before his own flit away again.

"Well I, um..." he begins, trails off, covers his mouth, clears his throat, and collects himself. "...I'd hit myself," he mumbles, keeping his voice low, his face already going red. He knows this to be a shameful thing that shameful people do, and this is only the second time he's opened up about it. "...and... pray. A lot. Lots of praying." He clears his throat again and drops his hand to clasp with the other, fidgeting. "Um... someone else does the hitting now. And it helps. ...he knows how to do it right. I think." He had no idea there was a 'right' way to beat someone, but apparently...
"...but he can't always be there. And I'm." He stares hard at the floor. "...weak."

"You know why it helps?"

Because he does. Knows the reason it helps him, anyway. And untangling the shameful part of it might be of benefit to him. Whatever the chances of that are. The Chant loves shaming people left and right for whatever it doesn't rightly approve of.

Still, he's going to be patient with the guy, and that expression? Absolutely zero judgement.

This Cade actually doesn't know. Zevran has explained it before, he's certain, but it's hard to wrap his head around, especially with everything he knows about the Chantry and how it sees such things. It's supposed to be a punishment of the body and soul, not a relief for either. He's not supposed to enjoy it. And yet...

"I'm not sure," he says, glancing apologetically to the Iron Bull. "...it's.. a reminder?" That doesn't seem right. Nothing short of death could make him forget most of the things he does wrong, or prevent his anxiety that he'll do them again.

[open] got tired of wastin gas livin above the planet

The Herald's Rest

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