faderift | [semi-open] hold onto me

Entry tags:

[semi-open] hold onto me

WHO: Cade Harimann and YOU, also a few starters for specific people
WHAT: A thing has changed. Whether it's a good or bad thing remains to be seen.
WHEN: late Solace
WHERE: around Skyhold
NOTES: It's likely that some conversations will end up pertaining to things like suicide, child abuse/molestation, and so forth. Take care and feel free to ask first if you aren't sure about tagging in!

[open]

Early risers may have noticed a severely underdressed and clumsy Cade returning to his room just after sunrise on an otherwise typical day in late Solace. He had no shoes on, looked like he had just warn his sleep clothes out onto the battlements, and in fact appeared to be drunk. Perhaps Ruby was with him, perhaps she wasn't.

Or, you know. Maybe they didn't see anything at all.

I. Main Hall

If possible, Cade has gotten even hidier than before, resurfacing pretty much only for meals. The guy doesn't look good; he's skinnier than he should be, his skin paler, and the circles around his eyes darker. Needless to say, he sits alone, and eats as quickly as he can manage before disappearing again.

II. The Chapel

All of the above applies, though Cade usually goes to pray in the early morning or late at night, when he's less likely to be disturbed. He'll sit there on his knees for hours, and never seems to find any relief in it.

III. Not the Construction Areas

Though he has been assisting with the building efforts of the Inquisition's assorted laborers, after that morning he has been conspicuously absent. He can potentially be found in transit between the chapel, the main hall, and his tiny cell of a room up above the gardens, but never for long.

[for Beleth]

Unbeknownst to most, at least half the reason for Cade's absence is the fact that he made himself sick as a dog by sitting outside being sad in the cold all night. Since he'd almost literally rather die than ask for assistance, he has been keeping to his bed and leaving only when he absolutely has to, which is essentially to eat or compulsively pray or take care of basic hygiene.
what a dummy

[for Alistair]

With the note sent and presumably received, there is nothing left to be done. Cade can only assume that Alistair has made his decision about where they stand, and is at the very least grimly appreciative of being left alone.
He's eating by himself, a book laid open beside his bowl, as he sits placid and safe in the assumption that Alistair is definitely not anywhere near him at the moment. Absolutely not. I'm not hinting at anything YOU ARE

[hit me up if you want one! or just jump on in]

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She hadn't been sure what to say to him, exactly. She had seen him speaking to Ruby--seen enough to discern what was going on, but she couldn't bring herself to interfere. Maybe if someone else hadn't been there to try to talk him down, but crowding him didn't seem like a good idea. She'd just had to trust Ruby, and the trust had paid off. But afterwards--What can you say?

But Beleth hears things. She sees things. She notices Cade's absence, and how he looks when he's there. She has always taken it as fact that men are generally idiots, and humans are idiots, and it does not overly surprise her that a human man is being a particular idiot. She gathers up spindleweed and other healing herbs, she makes a soup taught to her by her mother, a balm for the ailing. And she takes it, along with a thick blanket and a jug of water, to Cade's door, and she knocks.

"It's me." Cade can probably guess. Maybe. Does he know a lot of women with Free March accents? "Can I come in?"

Since negotiating himself out from under the constant watchful eye of the Tranquil, and also making distance from Zevran, there's... really no one Cade is expecting. Least of all Beleth, whose voice he recognizes on the basis of just how many times he's heard it recently.

His head spins as he sits up, and he manages an "uh," before beginning to take stock of himself: he's been in the same clothes for days, just putting on others over them when he has to go down and eat. He's kept himself clean (Cade is Cade, after all) but certainly not as put-together as he'd like, and... well, he's really not prepared for company.
"...why," he says helplessly after a long pause. He's addled, he'll need things explained to him in a bit more detail than usual.

Well, that...wasn't the response she expected. Maybe she shouldn't be surprised, though. Maybe he thought that she'd been waiting for him to be sick to finally finish him off? Which was silly, because Beleth could have killed him at any point in time before he had gotten sick, but maybe he didn't realize that.

Anyway.

"Because, Cade, I have an armful of materials to help you. One is very heavy, one is very bulky, and one is full of hot soup that might spill on me, so I would appreciate if you would open the door before all of this falls." She explains, in that tone that is pretending to be patient, but would really just like you to get a move on, please.

If only he weren't infuriatingly cautious, perhaps Cade would have friends. ...perhaps.
"...oh," he says in a small voice, hesitates for several moments, and then concedes, "...all right." Steeling himself, he gets up to shakily walk to the door and crack it open, only swinging it back fully when he sees that it is in fact Beleth and she is not in fact carrying a pile of knives.
He stands there still holding it awkwardly to admit her.

Alistair--who is DEFINITELY NEAR HIM AT THE MOMENT--sits down across from him without invitation or preamble or a bowl of his own to justify his need for sitting. He isn't here to eat. He's here to eyeball Cade, eyes slightly narrowed in a way that indicates thoughtfulness rather than hostility, and then after a moment to exhale and tip his chin toward the book.

"What are you reading?"

Because Cade loves being eyeballed, everyone knows it. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Alistair plops down right in front of him, and though at first he cringes back, expecting the worst, he's caught by surprise when the first thing out of Alistair's mouth isn't a jab.
"...um," he fumbles, and looks down at the book, "....nothing." He starts to slide it off the table towards himself. It is a copy of Swords and Shields.

"Wow," Alistair says. "Me, too. That's a coincidence."

He catches a glimpse of the title, but—not being much for sitting still and reading unless there's a good reason—doesn't recognize it well enough to know that Cade deserves to be mercilessly made fun of for it. Which is good. If he knew he might not be able to resist, and this whole conversation would never go anywhere.

"And since we're both reading nothing," he goes on, "you can talk to me. Right?"

Maybe the blanket was to hide the pile of knives!!!!

No, not really, and it's readily apparent once Cade opens the door and lets her in. She needs no further invitation to march in, glancing around before setting down the soup and the jug. "The jug has water in it, drink some of it." She doesn't leave room for argument, already busily arranging the extra blanket on his bed.

If Cade can't take care of himself, then she'll have to. Who else will? "Then get back in bed. If you need help with the soup, I can feed it to you." Her tone is undeniably bossy, but there's a soft edge to it. After all, she's trying to help him.

It's the sort of thing that would make Cade smile, if he weren't so afraid of what would come next. He has always enjoyed Alistair's sense of humor, except when it's turned on him, which it has been for most of their interactions lately. It seems unwise to let his guard down.
And yet... there doesn't seem to be any aggression. Alistair isn't picking at him or invading his space. He's just... sitting there.
"I suppose," Cade says uncertainly, eyes darting left and right before his gaze returns to the man across from him.

Though he's a bit startled by Beleth's immediate shift into giving orders, there are worse things. Being told what to do is what Cade does best, and he's long since learned better than to argue with that kind of tone.
He pours himself a cup of water and drinks it down, following directions to the letter as he then goes to sit again on his bed, looking as concerned as he is confused, but not about to put up a fight.

Alistair puts his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand to gaze steadily at Cade and says, "Super."

Pause for effect. Maybe to let the dread build. He can still pick on him a little. But after that attempt to make him squirm, Alistair smiles--crookedly, not widely, a little sadly. A lot sadly.

"You didn't have to apologize to me, Cade."

That gesture brings the walls right back up, and Cade steels himself for mockery, though it's with far more resignation than incredulity. This is just the way people talk to him, and he can't change it, at least until he--
Oh. That's... not what he was expecting Alistair to say.
He watches him for a moment, expression quizzical, and he swallows hard before speaking again. "I left you and Beleth," he says quietly, "and... well. You. Long before that."

"Yes, well," Alistair says, straightening up and squaring his shoulders, head lifted and empty supporting hand curled, to look more like a tough and manly fellow who isn't at all bothered by twenty- or thirty-year-old abandonments. "It's all right. That wasn't your fault."

The manly puffing is discarded quickly, on account of it being unnatural and uncomfortable for him. He puts his chin back in his hand.

"I do wish you'd told me."

It's a relief that he's listening, instead of arguing. She's never heard of him arguing with directions before, but she has no real authority over him. Briefly, she wonders if it's because Cade is just that whipped, or because it's her, and their relationship is complicated enough that Cade won't argue with her, specifically. Well, it hardly matters.

She tucks the new blanket around him, then plops on the stool, holding the soup out to him. "Are you strong enough to drink this yourself? You can just sip it from the bowl, if you need to. If not, then I can help you." She pauses, then takes the spoon, and takes a quick sip of it herself, first. Just in case Cade might worry that this is some kind of very complicated poisoning attempt.

"It's a Dalish recipe. It'll help you feel better."

Cade watches Alistair's posturing with dull confusion, and is glad when he returns to his previous position. He looks to be on the verge of a smile, but doesn't trust the waters just yet. When Alistair speaks next, Cade seems to deflate in poorly-concealed guilt.

"I couldn't," he says after a pause, and slowly lifts his eyes to meet Alistair's, completely on-edge and anticipating some manner of mockery or betrayal. But he continues, because he owes him that much. "...I... didn't think anyone would believe me." He bites his lower lip and looks away, apologetic. "And... I was afraid..." He purses his lips, trying to avoid hurting Alistair yet again with the sword in his own chest. "...you talked a lot, I didn't want..."

Glancing furtively out at the rest of the hall, Cade ensures that no one is looking their way. Becoming emotional in public is one of his more common living nightmares, and he'll do anything to avoid being put back on the public's radar. "...I promised," he concludes in a whisper, shaking his head, understanding the ridiculousness of it and yet unable to avoid it.

Alistair screws up his face for a moment, as if preparing to protest, but he can't honestly say he wouldn't have told—not everyone, not indiscriminately, but someone, and maybe more someones than necessary. He can't even honestly say he wouldn't have taken a swing or five at Brother Flavius, twelve years old or no. He realizes that, visibly defeated by his thoughts before he says a word, and only spends another moment struggling against the impulse to tell Cade that that was a TERRIBLE PROMISE HE SHOULDN'T HAVE KEPT, caps and all, before he manages to say, "Right," awkwardly, and, "well, then I'm sorry I didn't realize something was wrong."

He picks at a splinter on the table and indulges a brief fantasy where he did realize, and he did tell people, but only the correct people to tell (perhaps the most improbable part of the scenario), and neither of them were quite so miserable for quite so long.

Very brief. Then there's reality: "Is he still alive?"

In truth, he is just that whipped, but it's fine for Beleth to be unsure for a while. Cade sits very still and very uncertain as Beleth tucks the blanket around him, a gesture that isn't completely foreign, but which he has not encountered for most of his life. It's... kind. Almost heartbreakingly so.
When offered the bowl, he takes it quietly, barely glancing to Beleth when she gives it a taste. He's beyond caring whether or not anyone is trying to kill him; in fact, at the moment it might be welcome.
He takes a tentative sip, then is silent a beat for murmuring, "it's good. Thank you."

Cade's eyes furrow, and he shakes his head. There's no way Alistair could have known.
"I wasn't..." he begins, and actually smiles sadly. "...I've never been terribly forthright." He's always been a bit shy, though not as cripplingly so as he is these days. "...and I didn't want anyone to know. So nobody did." He looks down at the table with a sigh, then rests his forehead on his hand, pushing his fingers up through his hair.
At Alistair's question, he looks up, a bit perplexed. "I don't know," he answers honestly, "I... didn't stay in touch."

She Will Learn.

In the meantime, Beleth watches him eat--not because she doesn't trust him, but to gauge for herself if he'll even like it or not. When he affirms that it's good, she nods approvingly. Here, for some people, she might make a joke about it being made out of beetles and bark and whatnot, but...she's not sure if Cade wouldn't just believe her. She doesn't want to test it.

"My mother showed me how to make it." She tells him instead, and then examines her hands for a few moments, debating. "...I'm glad you're still here." Her words are quiet, still staring at her hands. "I would have missed you, if you had left." She won't elaborate unless Cade wants to, won't make him talk about it any more than that. But he should know.

"There's some good news."

That they aren't in touch. Not that he may be alive. If he is alive, he's in trouble. A lot of it. But Alistair doesn't say so, because there's a line between having a big mouth and being a complete idiot.

"Are you finished eating?"

A bit warily, Cade nods. It is good news, but he's not sure how he feels about being reminded that he has never written to anyone at the Abbey, even the people who didn't... do that. But for a long time now, disappearing has been his foremost goal.

Alistair's voice jolts him out of his brief rumination, and he looks at his plate, then nods. There's not much left on it anyway, and he hardly has an appetite.

He does seem to like it, and though he may just be eating it to be polite, it is genuinely making him feel better. He gets lost in it for a while, brought out of his reverie only when Beleth speaks again. And then he just looks at her, wanting to believe, but not knowing how or why he should. He does, however, know deep in the pit of his heart that she's aware of what happened, and he ducks his head slightly, ashamed.

"Great," Alistair says, pushing back his bench to stand up. "Do you want to come up to the library with me?"

He doesn't reply, and she's not sure what she expected him to say. Thanks? Why? I don't fucking care??? He doesn't look to be particularly...pleased, by it, though.

"...It's okay, you know." She told him, voice still quiet. "It's okay to get tired. Of everything. It's okay to want it to stop. There's no shame in feeling like there's only one way to find peace." It's against what she's been taught, it's always been frowned on by the Dalish, a great taboo. But she understands how Cade feels, and she tells him what she wants to hear, not what she's heard.

"You're not a bad person, for wanting to make the pain and the hurting stop. But...you're also a brave person. For walking away from it." She examined her hands closely, suddenly quite interested in her palm. "I think that it takes a lot of courage to decide to keep moving forward instead of stopping, even when it's hard. And I know that it's easy to think that no one would care, that everyone would move on without you, but...That's not true. There are people who want to be there for you, Cade, and I know that it's hard to see that sometimes. A lot of the time. But when moving forward is hard, if you go to those people...they'll make it a little easier to see why it's the better option."

There was the thing about being the Templar Liasion for the Inquisition, whenever there was any problem with any Templar, James had to step in. Even if it was a small capacity, like glowering menacingly. However, when one of the construction fellows came to him and let him know that Cade had not shown up to work ...

Well, it was professional and it was personal.

So James went hunting for Cade, catching him right between, and his eyes widened, "Templar Cade, a moment if you - Maker's Breath!"

The man looked awful. Legitimately awful in all ways.

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[semi-open] hold onto me

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WHAT A COINCIDENCE

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III Not Construction