[open] it seems that all my bridges have been burned

[onlyhymns]

WHO: Cade and yoooou
WHAT: Cade's restricted to his quarters! Again!!
WHEN: early Solace
WHERE: the Templar quarters in the Gallows
NOTES: Visitors are likely restricted by at least a cursory guard, who would be there anyway because Templars.

It may have been a day, it may have been six. Regardless, Cade spends the majority of his time on his bed, facing the wall, his back to the room and curled in a fetal position. When he's not there, he's sitting at the small desk he and Simon share, staring hopelessly at a blank book, holding a pen and not using it. He doesn't seem to sleep much, and hasn't touched any of the food brought for him. Few would, on their own deathwatch.

Comments

[limier]

"I daresay I will not be invited to his garden parties." Something tugs at the edge of her mouth, not quite a smile or a frown. "But I was honest with him,"

To a point. The irony that he hasn't believed her frankest statements in years isn't exactly lost.

"And they are not the Seekers of Good Manners, no? We need exhibit them moderation and respect. But more than this, we need act transparently."

A pause for the fourth wall to cry with laughter.

[onlyhymns]

Another nod, and a serious one at that. If Cade is about to fall into a trap by agreeing with Wren, he shows no sign of awareness. It is definitely important to be honest all the time, obviously.

[limier]

"So when I ask you whether the Order has protected you," Her fingers lift, fall once more, empty. "What do you feel?"

[onlyhymns]

Busted.
Cade blinks at her, his cheeks pinkening as he realizes what she's done. He's not a liar, but sometimes he does omit certain details that need to be coaxed out. And... well, touche.

He looks down, having a hard time not squirming with the discomfort of being put on the spot like this. She'll know if he's bluffing. "It's all I've known," he concedes, unsure if that answers the question, but hoping it sheds a bit more light on it. Can the Order protect him from itself?

[limier]

"How young were you?"

The words want to gentle; she doesn't let them. No one likes pity, particularly for simple points of fact. There'd always been a divide, in training, there even with Arnault: Those who chose the life, and those for whom it was chosen. The latecomers, and those who'd truly grown up together.

(It wasn't as though they might not have up and left. But where else to go? And with what resources?)

[onlyhymns]

Cade's eyes go distant. Could this be the first time he's ever spoken to anyone about... not just his career, but his childhood at all?
"Seven," he says in a near-whisper, "...maybe six. I don't remember." Young enough to miss his mother, old enough to read.

[limier]

"What do you remember of it?"

What does she remember of those years? Precious little. Absence, unhappiness, they twine through a child’s haze; if she’d been later to letters than some, too it had taken some time to consider with any depth the shape Logen’s own loneliness must have worn.

Years again, before she stopped to wonder where templars came from.

[onlyhymns]

Another good question, and Cade looks at the floor for at least a minute before he's able to muster an answer.
"I could read and write," he says quietly, "most of the others couldn't. So I was always ahead." He purses his lips, looking a little tired. "I wasn't well-liked. But I wasn't pushed around, either. I was just... sort of..." Another few long moments. "...nothing."

[limier]

She lets it hang a moment, some small respite, space to breathe. With another — Serra, or even Vauquelin, she might pivot here. A joke, something to break the silence.

Instead she dips her head in brief acknowledgment (so he isn't just left waiting any more than she might help) considers him before asking,

"Did it bother you?"

Tense matters here: They both know he isn't nothing now, but not all attention is kind.

[onlyhymns]

Did, does, it would be pretty sad if he fixated on that. Cade shrugs. It was among many things that bothered him over which he had no control.
"...nobody liked Alistair, either," he adds, with a weak smirk, "though he came later. We used to sit together because nobody else wanted to." Calling them friends would have been... generous, but at least their coexistence was mostly peaceful.
"Then he left to be a Warden." Cade rubs the back of his neck. "But we didn't talk much when we got older anyway."

[limier]

It must be nearly the first time she's seen him smile. She allows something to tug at the edge of her mouth; nothing so open, but a genuine enough impulse.

"Do you now?" There's plainly still affection there. "He is with the Inquisition, no?"

[onlyhymns]

Cade nods almost immediately, that tiny smirk returning. "He hasn't changed at all," he murmurs, "but that.... that's good, I think."