faderift | [Open] I don't think you're ready for this jelly

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[Open] I don't think you're ready for this jelly

WHO: Alistair and Anders and YOU
WHAT: Alistair tightropes. In a dress. While singing.
WHEN: Kingsway 21st
WHERE: Camp Shady Fucker
NOTES: There will probably be some awful sap because this is Nate's birthday, you've been warned. Otherwise, no warnings anticipated.

~~It's not publicized, but word has a habit of getting out.~~

Zevran has publicized matters, and now it's time for some morale boosting. There's a low tightrope stretched between two trees with a great many chairs, stumps, and logs set up as seating options. Today is the day for someone to earn himself new boots, shirts, and a shield, and it promises to be a show.

Come on up, pull up a seat, and enjoy the entertainment.

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"...You call it an impasta."

Beleth continues on blithely, as though she didn't even notice that Cade had ignored her set up. She's certainly noticed the change in attitude, though. There's a tension in her that wasn't there before, and her eyes nervously flick out to the crowd, checking for Zevran or Alistair or--anyone, really, that she can trust to keep her safe. That anger isn't focused on her, but it's impossible to separate from that anger that she had seen building in Emprise du Lion, that anger that had exploded into an incident that she still has nightmares about.

"Because pasta. And imposter. Impasta."

He doesn't hear the punchline. All Cade can hear is a roaring in his ears that feels like it's overwhelming his entire consciousness. In the meantime all he's really doing is staring into the middle distance, but his shoulders are tense as a bowstring and his eyes are hard and cold as stone.
His gaze flits over the crowd, seeking out a person he probably wouldn't even recognize if he saw him, but on whom his mind is now completely fixated.

She fucked up. She fucked up. She fucked up shefuckedupshefuckedupshefuckedup--It repeats with the pounding of a battering ram against her skull, and she takes a step away from Cade, eyes locked on the ground as she tries to think, but the acrid bile of panic is rising in her throat. He's going to hurt Anders, he's going to hurt her, he's going to hit her again--

"I'm sorry," She mutters, more to the ground than to Cade, voice cracking. "I'm sorry, please--" Please what? She needs to think, but it's hard. She wants to hide behind someone, let them deal with this. Let them yell at Cade and make him be normal again.

"It's fine, nothing happened--You're going to get in trouble. Please." This is as close to a rational argument as she can get, and her only other solution she can think of is breaking into sobbing, which might happen soon anyway.

Cade is aware that Beleth is speaking to him, pleading with him, but his adrenaline has ramped up and it's not going back down in a hurry. He lurches to his feet and steps away from her, balling his twitching fists and grinding his teeth. He forces himself into cognizance, and begins to turn towards Beleth when it hits him: the crackle of a magical explosion in the air, the smell of blood and rot and the unnatural sound of stone moving of its own volition, the sick and penetrating aura of red lyrium emanating from his commanding officer. He is about to be killed.
Rooted to the spot, Cade's muscle memory tells him to lift his left arm and shield himself, but when he does so, it's more of a defensive curl, his forearm pressing over his face and his hand knotting in his hair. The other at his side fidgets as though looking for a swordbelt that isn't there, and he breathes heavily, temporarily contained but likely to become undone if anyone should try to touch him.

Well that isn't the sign of trouble brewing or anything. For what won't be the last time Zevran wonders and and quietly despairs over Beleth's continued association with the human that nearly beat her to death. Especially when it means moments like this are likely to occur and someone sensible and responsible (when that became him he has no idea, part of him resents the implication and the rest simply wants this to pass without incident or blood) ought to sweep in and tidy up the mess.

Sweep in he does, passing Lucci into Beleth's arms before the tears and wailing start in earnest , hands up, voice low and commanding as it had been in that tower. "Cade."

No contact, no touching- the trials and difficulties of not being able to ground someone physically. "You are safe, yes? No one here is to harm you, no one here is in danger. Look at me."

As if they hadn't been more or less avoiding one another and the issue for...months. To be fair, Zev suddenly had a son and Cade had a startling moment of awareness over how few fucks Zev had to give on a regular basis. Most don't catch on. Clever man.

Cade goes still at the sound of his name in that tone, but is still clearly lacking most of his wits. He shakes his head to the question, his shoulders trembling with the still-accruing nervous energy.
He does as he's told, however, and looks at Zevran like a kicked dog looks at a person holding food.
Zevran will want an explanation, but Cade can't make sense of his own thoughts enough to give him one. Everyone is going to die. Beleth is going to die, and so is the baby, and--

"Alistair," he whimpers, remembering his concern but unable to place how it relates. He lowers his voice to murmur "he's going to kill Alistair," in a tone so full of fear that it's almost childlike-- on top of that, it's almost a question, because surely Zevran will know if it's true or not. Cade is pretty sure it is, but even in his current state he acknowledges that he's often mistaken.

"No one is going to kill Alistair here." Specifics matter. Laugh and mock? Yes. Kill? No killing shall be done unless Cade loses control of himself. Then it is less a matter of murder and more of putting down a wild dog-

But that Cade has enough sense to try to ask, to try to claw his way back to the present? Eases some of the tension in Zevran's shoulders. "No one is killing anyone here. It is a bit of fun, a joke. A few tricks on the rope and a little music. No danger."

He takes a careful step forward, hands still up where Cade can see them. "You are safe. Alistair is safe."

He wants to believe what Zevran is telling him, but Cade's panicked and racing mind says otherwise. He blinks rapidly, trying to focus on any one line of thought that isn't fraught with violence. It's harder than it sounds, and he has to divert his eyes from the elf's for fear that Zevran might somehow see what his brain is doing and pass judgment.

He can hear voices behind him but refuses to turn, instead clasping his hands in front of his face and pressing them onto the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes closed and trying to just ride it out.
"Did I hurt someone," he asks brokenly, terrified of the answer. Will he still? The thought is nauseating but doesn't seem unlikely.

"No." He might have, but he hasn't. That is what is most important. "You became confused. I think, perhaps, you still are. The jeering in your ears, the blood in your skull pounding- breathe."

IF he could rest his hands on Cade's shoulders? He would feel more certain in this. "Slow and deep, Cade. Breathe. You are in the valley. In this moment. No harm has come to you, and you have harmed no one. All is well. All you need to do lis listen and breathe."

Breathing isn't an instinct anymore, but something he has to tell himself to do, and which seems to require a lot more concentration than he's able to give it. Finding the bench nearby, Cade sits down and knots his hands in his hair, curling over to cover his face. Now that he's slowly coming back down, he's realizing that this is a public place, there are people around, and no fewer than three are currently witnessing this disaster.
"I'm sorry," he whimpers into his hands. On some level, he knows Zevran doesn't want to be here, and that he's being a nuisance again.

"Don't be." IT happens. He would rather it happens like this, in a way that he can talk to Cade before violence ensues, in a way that can be handled neatly if not privately. Without much thought to how it looks or any particular care? Zevran settles across from Cade. Act as though it is nothing, it will be treated as nothing. "No one was harmed. You had a moment. These things happen. The moment has mostly passed, yes? Better to have them and handle them than to stuff it all under a too reasonable mask until you snap and murder someone. I knew a Crow that did such a thing, it was terribly messy."

Slowly, slowly, Cade is coming back. He keeps his eyes covered until he's certain, not wanting to look up and around and see anyone staring or jeering at him.
Zevran's voice has a comforting effect, and after a minute or so, Cade finally lowers his hands with a sigh. He still feels nauseous, his day is still ruined, but at least he isn't on the verge of committing another assault.
"...sorry," he says again, to no one and everyone.

"You are forgiven." IT is easier to offer that than to insist Cade has done nothing wrong. "No one is hurt. No one is upset. See?"

He tips his chin in the direction of the kestrels, subtly guiding attention away from them with a few tricks. Juggling and dancing and in general, providing a fine distraction. "You were frozen in fear. Lost in a moment. It happens. It has not, as far as I am aware, happened in some time. Which is a step in the right direction, yes?"

"Yes," Cade answers mechanically, following Zevran's gaze. He isn't quite convinced yet that the answer is correct, but at least it's what he's being expected to say, which makes it a good start. He nods again, to nothing in particular, looks down, and then slowly rises. "I'm going to..." he murmurs, and steps over the bench with a glance at Beleth and Cole, "...not be here." It seems like the wise decision.

"Take a moment and find somewhere quiet." Zevran pushes himself to his feet, dusting the snow from his leathers. He gestures for Cade to do the same, as subtle an instruction as he is comfortable offering in the moment. "I can have Vita bring you some tea, yes? Something soothing."

Cade pauses in mild confusion at first, then realizes what Zevran's gesture means, and he brushes the snow off himself. Then he shakes his head, hugging himself and rubbing both his upper arms. "I need to just..." He fights with the words for a moment, squeezing his eyes closed as if pushing back some negative thought or another. "I need to be by myself for a while." Despite his assertion, he actually waits for Zevran's assent or dissent before departing.

"The old shave shack from which the Guildhouse sprang is most likely empty. I'll make certain no one bothers you." He may not care- but he can and does make gestures. For Alistair cares (reasons beyond his understanding but, the man cares) a token attempt might be made.

A man has a right to solitude if he wishes it, after all. "Go ahead. I will speak to Beleth."

Nodding once again, Cade quickly takes his leave, glad for the small mercy that is Zevran still, for whatever reason, offering him assistance.

Had Cole been farther away, he might have been too late. Even with all his abilities, he still needs to move through space as a human does. But there's no question he would have sensed the explosive ripples of Cade's distress from across Skyhold. It came on so quickly this time, hard and fast and echoing with old traumas.

He appears an instant after Zevran steps in -- the Shadow, cool and steady and already engaging with Cade. So he turns to Beleth instead, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. She's affected by this, too.

"Look." He raises his free hand, one slender finger brushing against Lucci's cheek. "He needs you."

When Cade turns towads her, she takes a step back, panic and fear flooding her mind. But then there's a rude interruption into that fog, and she's suddenly holding a small child dressed as a bear.

It is remarkably hard to have a meltdown when you unexpectedly find yourself responsible for an adorable baby, and gives her pause for long enough for Cole to arrive. Cradling Lucci gently, she glances up at him, that bile of fear still there, but--Cole is safe. He's kind, he won't hurt her. Clutching Lucci against herself, Beleth reaches out for Cole, leaning against him. Just as it's her instinct to comfort others with little touches, so does she get comfort from them in turn.

"I'm sorry," She whispers it to Cole, absently patting Lucci's head. He needs her, after all. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

Cole looks toward Cade. Only briefly.

"He — doesn't like Anders," he states plainly, then goes on to elaborate: "What Anders did. What he's still doing, in his dreams, in the hot spaces behind his eyes. It isn't your fault — you didn't know."

Which has been a sticking point with her before. Not knowing. Ignorance. But that's the thing about knowing, when you didn't before:

"Now you do." Now she can be better.

"I should have." She murmurs, eyes lowered. Lucci is a welcome distraction, something to focus on as she tries to breath, let that pounding fear in her head subside. It's okay, Zevran will take care of Cade, and Cole is here. And Cole is safe. "I knew he was in Kirkwall for that whole. Thing." A thing that Beleth didn't completely understand, didn't really care about, but knew that it was an Issue.

"A Templar who was in Kirkwall. It doesn't take a scholar to puzzle out that Anders might upset him." And she had known it was a mistake, shortly after she had said it. She just hadn't figured that he would react quite like that. She thought he was doing better. She thought that they both, her and him, were better. Hah.

"Zevran's going to be so mad." Idly, she holds out one of her halla-carved charms to Lucci, letting him toy with it while she glances over at where the baby's father sat with Cade. "Or disappointed." The anger might be preferable.

Cole follows her gaze, watching Zevran talk to Cade. The elf has a calm, focused demeanor. Cole can't hear any anger from him.

"Is he?"

She glances over, and then back to Cole, shrugging and turning her attention to playing with Lucci and her little charm. "He must be," She tells him, "He has to take time out of his free time to clean up my mess. I can't imagine he wouldn't be irritated, not when I could have avoided this by just--just thinking. Or...not talking to Cade at all."

It's stupid, that she keeps reaching out to him. She knows that. But that isn't going to stop her.

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[Open] I don't think you're ready for this jelly

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--> Beleth

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