faderift | [open] now my head's splitting at the seams

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[open] now my head's splitting at the seams

WHO: Cade the Disgraced and you!
WHAT: Cade is free (to a point) and around and about Skyhold again. He always has a buddy with him, whether it's Nerva, a Tranquil, or a scout who's been saddled with babysitting duty.
WHEN: Drakonis
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Warning for probable violence and possible other dark shit, depending on how things go.

Cade is miserable, but at least he is not in a cell. Most of the time he is at the whims of whomever is in charge of supervising him, which means a lot of labor, assisting Nerva or Tranquil or scouts, and generally being little more than a manservant or a leashed dog.

He keeps his head low and his tongue still for the most part, but anyone is still free to approach and engage him.

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When she's told that she is to continue supervising Cade, she doesn't argue. Even though some might think it is a burden on her, she knows better - she doesn't trust anyone else fully with this task. At least now she knows his supervision will be seen to properly. So she comes to pick him up with a hard, stony expression, and a bedroll tucked under her arm.

"You will be staying with me for the foreseeable future," She said, bluntly. "Come."

Cade's knees hadn't stopped shaking despite the comparatively merciful result of his hearing. He stepped out looking lost and tired and nervous, a deeper desolation
overtaking him when he realized he was still being paired with Nerva.

It wasn't that he didn't like Nerva. Or at least, hadn't. But at the moment, being at her side was nothing but a symbol of his failure, of which he knew everyone would be reminded every time they were seen together.
Nonetheless, he stepped forward with a sigh.

"I am not fully aware of your previous habits, Cade, but you will be sticking to a strict regimen for the foreseeable future. No less than 8 hours of sleep, in 24. That means, if you have nightmares, you are to inform me, and we will make up the time. Three full meals a day, and one hour of prayer in the chantry in the morning, and one in the evening. The rest of the day you will be fulfilling your duties as your superiors lay them out for you. Understood?"

This wasn't the worst he was expecting to hear. Anything that could put him in a military mindset was desirable, and having a superior tell him what to do was the ideal scenario. Especially now, when he was so frazzled he probably couldn't even brush his own hair without instructions.
He nodded mildly, keeping his eyes lowered.

"Good." She turned to walk, making sure he was in step before silently leading them back to her room. Her room was - well - small. very small. It was about the length of the bed, in one direction, and not much wider in the other. The only furniture was the bed itself, and a small table, with a candle, and the few odd pieces that she owned. A couple of books. Carving tools, some ink and paper. It was all very efficiently organized, and spartan. She set the bed roll down on the floor next to her bed.

"You will be staying here until I can arrange proper overnight supervision for you."

Cade followed like a well-trained dog, wishing he could at least will his hands to stop quivering. He folded them up under his arms, his mind everywhere but the present as they made their way toward Nerva's room.
This wasn't a big surprise; they'd shared a tent, after all, and he understood the system they'd likely follow. He nodded his comprehension, looking over the bedroll. He'd had worse.

After a moment, he cleared his throat timidly. "...may I, um... get my things, Ma'am," he asked, head still lowered.

She nodded. "I will accompany you to fetch them," She agreed solemnly. "You may store them here, until such time as proper supervision is found to allow you back into your rooms on a more permanent basis."

She stepped back, gesturing to the door, that he should lead on.

Despite the positive response, Cade paused. He took a breath as though he meant to say something, met Nerva's gaze, and then looked away again, sighing it out and slinking by like a kicked dog. He had approximately a hallway's length to formulate a plan, and with his mind now racing the way it was, that wasn't going to be easy.
About halfway there, he stopped abruptly and turned around. "I-..." he stammered, "I actually... don't need anything. It's fine." His visible nervous energy declared that it wasn't altogether fine, but why it wouldn't be was mysterious.

The abrupt turnaround - and the nerves - immediately made her suspicious. But she couldn't fathom why. Her immediate thought was something embarassing, but--

"I've lived with Templars all my life," She said bluntly. "I assure you, there is nothing I haven't seen. I am not here to judge you, Cade."

Even if she was suddenly very worried about what could make him so nervous. A secret lyrium stash? A polished wooden phallus? Did she really want to know?

Well, she had seen through at least part of the ruse. Regardless of what she'd seen or not, there were certain things that needed to stay private for the sake of his own sanity. ...and perhaps pride, not that there was a lot of that left.
He stalled for a moment longer, fidgeting anxiously, then forced himself to turn and keep going, with the pace and posture of a condemned man on his way to the gallows.

On the surface, his room was much like Nerva's: bare, clean, nothing out of the ordinary. His agitation only seemed to grow, however, as he stooped to reach under the bed for the neat pile of clothes that he'd stored there. He seemed to hang down there just a second too long, one hand surreptitiously pushing something farther under as he pulled the clothing out and straightened again. All right, done, time to go!! Nothing more to see here.

She was walking him like a hawk, and waiting for whatever he had been so nervous to show her, so as soon as he pushed something further under the bed and then stood, she bent down to reach under and drag it out.

"You shouldn't forget anything," she said flatly.

"No!"
The protest left him before he could stop himself, and Cade's hand actually shot forward to grab Nerva by the wrist in an attempt to prevent her from reaching any further. Of course, the instant this happened, Cade knew he had made a mistake-- he tensed up like a frightened rabbit, but didn't remove his hand yet.

Nerva went ice cold - the fury in her glare so absolute that she could have burned holes in walls, leaving frost in its wake. da

When she spoke, each word was like a dagger - hard and sharp and hissed through clenched teeth.

"Don't. Touch. Me."

She hadn't needed to say anything for Cade to know this was a huge mistake, but that definitely sealed the deal. Slowly, as though she were a dog who would bite if he made any sudden movements, he withdrew his hand and curled it tightly against his chest. He sat back on his heels and averted his gaze, blushing to his ears and using all his other hand to preemptively cover his face in defeat. There was no stopping it now.

The hidden item in question appeared at first glance to be a tangle of short ropes, all knotted at a certain length at the end of a longer one. With a little further investigation, it revealed itself to be a crude, likely homemade flogger, patches of it stained with old blood. Even as far as such objects went, this one was especially hideous.

She didn't move at first - glaring at him while crouched completely still - as if she was a dog, waiting for him to make the slightest movement so that she could leap at him and tear his throat out. Finally, however, she turned her head and pulled the object in question free, and then stood, holding it in her hand, looking down at it like just glaring at it should immediately reveal all its secrets.

"This is your blood?" She asked finally, bluntly. Her expression was still intensely cold as she turned her gaze on him, the flog held aloft in one hand.

He didn't have to look at her to know what her expression was. Cade remained kneeling, face covered, and nodded silently.

That was something, at least. His blood was better than someone else's. There was a wealth of a difference between whipping someone to the point of bleeding for pleasure, and whipping yourself.

"Penance?" It was a singular word, but sufficed as her entire question.

The moment she spoke, Cade flinched, expecting something far harsher than what he actually received. It took him a moment to realize that Nerva wasn't berating him, was just asking a question, and it struck him that she understood. Not necessarily that she condoned it, but she had guessed the reason in one, and he felt strangely, almost impossibly relieved by the fact.
He lowered his hand from his face to rest it on his leg, nodding to her again. He still didn't look at her yet, too afraid of what he would see in her face.

"I see." Her tone was even - neither accepting nor condemning - just pure statement of fact. The ice in her demeanour thawed. Penance was something she understood.

Her own just took different forms.

She stood silently a long moment, considering. Unnervingly long.

"Show me." She looked up, the flog still gripped tightly in her fist. She wanted to make sure he wasn't overly harming himself.

The silence felt like an eternity. Cade could see the door to his chamber past Nerva, and it seemed miles away for all he had access to it. He hadn't left the floor yet; he wasn't sure he'd be able to stand anyway, with his knees shaking as they were.

Nerva's command caught him by surprise. "What??" he breathed, and he hugged the folded clothes in his arms a little closer to himself. "Now?"

"Just the wounds, Cade." She said, realising that maybe he assumed she meant a demonstration, which she really, really didn't.

"There must be scars. Show me."

Heaving a small sigh of relief, Cade wasn't much comforted by the actual command, but at least she didn't mean a demonstration. He slowly rose to his feet, and glanced behind her at the door again; it was ajar, and that bothered him, but he reasoned it would be even worse if it were closed.
He had the look about him of a slinking dog as he set down his extra clothes and began to undo his doublet, his hands beginning to shake with increased anxiety the farther he got. He glanced at Nerva periodically, perhaps just to make sure she was still in the same place, not getting any closer, not making any move to touch him. Still, when he began on the lacing of his shirt, he couldn't stop himself from backing up a little.
There was shyness, and there was near-paralysis brought on by the notion of undressing in front of someone. His hands jerked oddly, and he had to stop and take a deep, shaking breath every couple of seconds before he finally turned his back to Nerva and pulled his shirt up over his head and shoulders, keeping it bunched around his arms and ready to put back on the instant he was directed.

His back wasn't a pretty sight. There were obviously no new marks, but a wide variety of twisting, snarling scars, some cut-like and some clearly impact wounds. They were mostly over his upper back, and tapered off not far below his scapulae.
Cade shook like a leaf all the while, staring fixedly out his small window, trying to keep himself grounded despite how vulnerable he had just allowed himself to become.

She didn't move. She may as well have been a stone statue as he undressed, her arms crossed, flog gripped tight. She didn't say anything as he seemed to slink away from her. If he was shamed, it was not her fault. She needed to see it.

She let out a hard breath when she saw the scars themselves.

"... You may replace your clothing." She told him, once she had assessed them.

That was all he needed to hear. He tugged his shirt back on without hesitation, then hurriedly reached for his doublet to start lacing it together again. It was difficult to do it well, with how badly his hands shook, but he didn't pause again until everything was at least mostly back where it had been.
Then he stared at the floor, squinting unhappily, awaiting further instruction. He wanted to vomit.

Once he was fully dressed, she stepped closer, just far enough to be able to hold the flog out at full arm's length.

"You'll report any incidents," She murmured quietly. "And you will report any injury you cause yourself. Do you understand?"

[open] now my head's splitting at the seams

The night after his hearing

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