spare me your judgements and spare me your dreams

[tactical_alert]

WHO: Malcolm "sulky seeker squinty" Reed, friends, you
WHAT: Catch-all of Justinian, also him fretting at his people after the Fade and completely trying to ignore the things that fuck him up mentally
WHEN: all month long unless otherwise noted
WHERE: around Skyhold
NOTES: Fade-related shenanigans discussed or glossed over, a couple of specific starters in the comments

The Fade was...unpleasant. It was unpleasant in the way that a demon masquerading as someone you care(d) deeply for is unpleasant, as facing your deeply embedded fears is unpleasant, which is to say--it was awful. So obviously he'd rather not talk about it and spend a little extra time to himself these days, praying, reflecting, seeking inner consul and finding it occasionally lacking.

Everyone else, on the other hand, would get a little more of him than usual to make up for the introspection, to account for those he's grown fond of, to take stock of the morale of the Inquisition in the wake of the Nightmare. And, apparently, in the wake of Weisshaupt, but details from that are slim at best at first.

Courtyard

Sometimes it seems as though Malcolm wants to do nothing but hone his already fairly honed skills, whether it's sparring with wooden pikes for swords, whacking at dummies with his personal sword and small shield, or trying to see from what distance he can still nail a headshot with his shortbow. Other times, his training involves his curly poodle, making hand motions for orders or barking out a few verbal commands in Orlesian through a makeshift obstacle course, or trying to get a certain battle action just right, or...playing fetch. Hopefully she doesn't bring you a slobbery training sword to throw.

Battlements

The reconstruction and repair of Skyhold has hit a few hiccups recently, from disabling rain torrents and hallucinatory illness, to many of Skyhold's leaders and workers getting sucked into the Fade at Adamant, to...so many little things that go wrong. But still, with enough hands, it's coming along well. Malcolm uses the high perch of the battlements to clear his head, take assessment of the areas of Skyhold that still need more work, and gaze out over the valley at the little tent city forming in the shadow of the castle, always peering at the horizon for smoke or for signs of approaching armies. Also found shooing away people practicing their bloody 'parkour', does this look like a playground, what do you think will happen when your broken body is found down there when you slip and fall.

Great Hall

There are precious few places within the hold that are quiet enough for him, other than the war room, personal private quarters, and the garden (and the small alcove set aside as a small area for Andrastrian prayer). So he's stopped trying to find the quiet and embrace the inevitable, settling in by fires with a meal and drink to look over letters or notes or other papers, sometimes sketched out maps, or reading books borrowed from the library. Sometimes he seems distracted, his gaze up but far far away, a frown worrying at his features.

Wildcard

Hit him up in places that also seem like places he might be. Bump into him sending off a notice in the rookery, heading off to early morning prayer, taking his horse out for a trot, assisting in building/rebuilding projects, throwing something together for himself (or someone else) in the kitchens...

Comments

[onlyhymns]

It's true, Cade doesn't need reminding. In fact, he's reminded pretty much every day of his life, but that's not relevant. He nods weakly in agreement with the Seeker-- yes, there are such soldiers who only take orders. And he is, on the whole, one of them.

He seems a bit alarmed by Malcolm's question, and immediately shakes his head. "No, ser," he says quickly, then immediately recognizes the trap he's fallen into. And yet... it's true. "Never... never on purpose."

[tactical_alert]

"Then," the Seeker says after a thoughtful pause, "you are either lucky or you are blind, and I cannot decide which." He looks away, to set another nail in place, gives it a few taps to get it started. "We are to trust our superiors with our lives, yes. But they are, as anyone else, people. And people are prone to failures of mind and spirit. Obey your superiors, yes, but do not place them on a pedestal that you cannot subsequently knock down."

[onlyhymns]

This is against everything Cade has come to believe, but, ironically, it is also what prevents him from saying so to Malcolm. Arguing with a superior is just not done. Not that he's good with words anyway; he can't even argue a point when he fully believes in it.
Instead, he very carefully does not say anything. He nods to show he understands, and otherwise looks distinctly uncomfortable. The Seeker has put him in a strange place of shame that he never questions superiors, and fear of questioning a superior.

[tactical_alert]

Malcolm hammers a few more times, to really work that nail in. To consider his words. There's a point that's niggling at him, apart from the talk of orders and flawed superiors. Something worrying at him more with Cade hovering around.

"Hayes was a dear friend of mine," he says, eventually. "We didn't start out that way, Maker no, but we became close when we started to see our similarities instead of our differences. I didn't kill him. The demon wearing his face--that...thing sought to turn you against me. But I didn't kill him. The darkspawn tore him apart in the Blight when we traveled through Ferelden together. Trying to fight the good fight, as if we were Grey Wardens. I suppose we thought if we could get to Denerim, we could throw in with the armies that must have amassed there..."

He shakes his head, glances, only momentarily, to Cade. "I want you to know that he went down fighting all the way. There was nothing dishonourable or disrespectful about how it happened. I have slain Templars before, but it is not something I make a habit out of."

[onlyhymns]

"Demons are deceitful," Cade agrees, a quiet dismissal of the Seeker's concerns. "It... seems they will say what would hurt the most to hear." He had some personal experience with this himself, but isn't about to volunteer it as an example.
"I trust your word over a demon's, ser. I could hardly call myself a Templar if I didn't." Not that he... can really call himself a Templar now, but the sentiment is there.

[tactical_alert]

"I felt it...prudent to assuage any concerns." For the sake of his conscience. "Even though demons lie, they use grains of truth to do so. Thank you."

[onlyhymns]

This actually merits a small smile from Cade, who quashes it in favor of a dutiful nod. Still, to be thanked implies an acknowledgment that he's a person and that he didn't ruin everything, at least this time.
"I will always be true to you, ser," he quietly affirms, "and will serve you as best I can." This is true of all his superior officers, but it can't hurt to remind them, especially after he's spent so long feeling like a beaten dog slinking around his masters' legs.