She frowns, but on reflection, she supposes it's true enough. Cassandra looks down at the table. She has known Malcolm longer even than she has known Leliana, he understands what it is to be a Seeker, he understands her better than most - but they are not, perhaps, friends. Not when he continues to insist upon calling her by a title she has not even earned, not when he defers to her in everything - and she is well aware that she has not made it easy to do otherwise, that she has taken advantage of the opportunity to treat him like a soldier, like a subordinate, dismissing him at her whim whenever it is convenient for her to do so rather than listen to his opinion or advice or concern for her well-being.
They had held the same rank in the Seeker Order, but the Order is no more. Cassandra had been the Right Hand, and is now, whether she would have chosen it or not, a leader of the Inquisition - an authority figure, separate and removed from the others by necessity.
Alone, more than she would have liked. But that is not so different than the rest of her life, after all.
"I suppose it is not so unreasonable," she says at last, her heart strangely heavy. "But the fact remains. I am fine." She looks up at him, finally, hesitates briefly before daring to ask. "And what of you? Are you - recovering?"
Just shy of are you fit for duty, just this side of pure, impersonal professionalism. She sighs inwardly at herself, quietly miserable.
no subject
She frowns, but on reflection, she supposes it's true enough. Cassandra looks down at the table. She has known Malcolm longer even than she has known Leliana, he understands what it is to be a Seeker, he understands her better than most - but they are not, perhaps, friends. Not when he continues to insist upon calling her by a title she has not even earned, not when he defers to her in everything - and she is well aware that she has not made it easy to do otherwise, that she has taken advantage of the opportunity to treat him like a soldier, like a subordinate, dismissing him at her whim whenever it is convenient for her to do so rather than listen to his opinion or advice or concern for her well-being.
They had held the same rank in the Seeker Order, but the Order is no more. Cassandra had been the Right Hand, and is now, whether she would have chosen it or not, a leader of the Inquisition - an authority figure, separate and removed from the others by necessity.
Alone, more than she would have liked. But that is not so different than the rest of her life, after all.
"I suppose it is not so unreasonable," she says at last, her heart strangely heavy. "But the fact remains. I am fine." She looks up at him, finally, hesitates briefly before daring to ask. "And what of you? Are you - recovering?"
Just shy of are you fit for duty, just this side of pure, impersonal professionalism. She sighs inwardly at herself, quietly miserable.