faderift | [open] together we can see what we will find

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[open] together we can see what we will find

WHO: Cade, his smarmy brother Callum, you!!
WHAT: Cade's life has been turned inside out and upside down. His brother has chosen a terrible time to visit, but has resolved to make the most of it. Come be part of the trainwreck.
WHEN: late Solace
WHERE: mostly around Lowtown
NOTES: There's gonna be a lot of drunken debauchery, and both brothers are going to do things likely both stupid and offensive, so if that's not your bag then you might want to steer clear.

It all began when a blond man strode into the barracks in the Gallows, whistling to himself as he perused the numbers on the doors and finally knocked on one. There, Simon was treated to the sight of someone very familiar and yet not: he resembled Cade, but taller, healthier, and significantly more charming. His name was Callum, and he had come to find his little brother, whom he knew to have just returned to Kirkwall.

Thus they went from the Gallows to Lowtown, where the little brother in question was found in the inn where he'd begun to take up residence not a full day previous. An exceedingly awkward greeting was had, a brotherly razzing that might have been less menacing if they had seen each other at any point over the last twenty-seven years, and the decision to celebrate Callum's visit with a night on the town.

Cade, being who he is, was unable to say no-- and, in his current state, thought a sustained poisoning via alcohol might just be what the doctor ordered.
And the rest... is not yet history, but it's about to be.

I. The First Night

The brothers Harimann and Simon have begun their night of carousing with a visit to the Hanged Man, where Callum diligently ensures that no one wants for a drink or a laugh. They're at a table towards the front, the older brother chatting effusively to Simon and the younger staring into his mug. Callum is quick enough to smile and greet anyone who should come their way, with an offer to join them.

Anyone remaining in the tavern long enough to see them leave might note that Cade can barely stand on his own, but at least it can be inferred that he gets home safely.

II. The Second Night

a. Back in the Hanged Man for another session, tonight is all about catching up. Callum, however, quickly grows bored with Cade's reticence and total unwillingness to pick up girls, and not-so-subtly ditches him at their table in favor of chatting up any locals pretty enough to catch his eye.

b. This ultimately resolves in Callum disappearing into one of the upstairs room with a few ladies, where he remains indefinitely. Cade remains at their table, idly spinning a coin with his head resting on his hand. Either he has total faith that his brother is coming back, or he's too drunk to stand.

III. The Third Night

It starts the same as the others, then Callum starts talking some shit. Any Fereldans in the pub are the subject of his mockery, and it isn't long before things escalate. [I would like this to be one thread, even if multiple people join!]

IV. The Following Morning

A badly-bruised and aching Cade awakens in a cell with no sign of Callum or memory of how he got there. He is, at least, relieved to find that this is not the dungeon of the Gallows, but the drunk tank of the City Guard.

a. Perhaps someone comes to collect him and pay his bail, either in a timely fashion or ...not. [one thread only please, first come first serve]

b. The rest of the day is spent nursing a hangover and trying to come to terms with what's been going on. Callum is nowhere to be found, which is cause for some concern.

V. Special prompts

If you'd like a character-specific scene that isn't covered above, hit me up!

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Bar pies are never to be trusted, Simon. You'll only need to learn that once.
Cade lowers his hands, briefly given pause by Simon's assurance-- I believe in you-- but, in his current state, it wafts away like any other thought. Is it sarcastic? Probably, it usually is.
"It's always like this," Cade murmurs, drumming his fingers on his empty mug, "I'm... I out... I outgrow my worth. Change too much." He pushes his hair back with one hand, then rests his head on it, hunching forward on the table. "I don't know how to stop."

Seeing how Cade responds to that assurance, Simon feels terribly guilty that he had meant it sarcastically. If he were any good at keeping emotions off his face, he could pretend otherwise, but as it is, he'll have to rely on Cade's impaired state and he never plays Wicked Grace.

He's tentatively hopeful that he might have been given an opening, though, even if only to plant a small seed for Cade to think on later. He thinks on Cade's lament for a long moment.

"I don't think you're right about that," he says finally. "It's not that you change too much. If anything, I think it's that you don't change enough. You're still living in the old Kirkwall, mate. Things don't work that way anymore. That was your whole problem with that...mage business." He waves a hand, vaguely, as if to indicate the entire distasteful scenario.

"But that doesn't mean you can't change. And that's not outgrowing your worth, it's just...adapting. Like we all do. You're not so different."

Sarcastic though he'd been just then, Simon does believe that.

Edited 2017-08-04 10:36 (UTC)

Cade listens dully, obviously shuttering in and out with waves of drunkenness, toying with a chip in the wood of the table like it's the most interesting stimulus he's ever found.
"Tell that to Brother Flavius," he mutters under his breath, "I don't know how anything works, anywhere. It's all lies anyway."

"I might if I knew who he was," he says, "but I don't expect I'd agree with him, so." He does rack his brains briefly for anyone of that name at the Gallows during his tenure, wondering if it's someone he should recall--he doesn't remember names well, when it's from that long ago, and he gives up after a moment.

"When was the last time you tried to learn how a new thing worked? And how long did you try at it?"

Seemingly imploding on himself, Cade lies his head down on his arms, giving up on the chip in the table. He shakes his head wordlessly. He doesn't have an answer, and he's being a sadsack, and he doesn't remember that he solved the puzzle box Cyril gave him, because that matters so little. That's not a skill.
"I've learned how being a drunk works," he mumbles, his turn to be sarcastic. He should get some tips from Alistair.

"Trust me, you're still an amateur at that." Says the guy anyone in this room but Cade could probably drink under the table. At least Simon can appreciate being made to feel worldly in comparison.

"That's not a suggestion to try and take it full-time, mind you. Can't you learn a trade? I'm sure they can use more help in the forge, just for starters. It's what I'd do."

A muffled sound of frustration emanates from within Cade's arms. He doesn't want to hear it any more than he wants to talk about it, and Simon doesn't seem to understand that.
Fortunately, Callum returns with more drinks, and claps his younger brother on the shoulder. "You're not tapping out already, Kitty?" he says with a grin, "I should've known a chantry boy couldn't hold his ale." This he directs to Simon with a wink.

It has not, for some reason, really occurred to Simon to just let Cade vent for a while as part of the healing process. His pep talk here is a combination of exasperation and genuine well-meaning, but eventually it does get through his head that it's having the opposite of its intended effect, and he sighs and pats Cade lightly on the shoulder just before Callum swings by again and does the same.

His wariness of Callum hasn't subsided any since their arrival at the tavern, and it doesn't now, but his answering smile is blank and pleasant. "They didn't allow us much practice with that, no," he says amiably. "'Kitty?' That a childhood nickname?"

For what it's worth, Cade doesn't even know how to vent. He's never known anyone to care all that much about his problems, so even though Simon is clearly demonstrating that he does, it doesn't even occur to Cade that he could let his guard down and take advantage of that.

"He was a mama's boy," Callum replies, ruffling his brother's hair, "Father hated that she called him that." Cade lifts his head slightly, a distant look in his already glazed-over eyes, as though Callum just told him someone died.
"But he's a prick about that stuff. Manly this, dignified that." Callum rolls his eyes, taking a seat again and then swigging from his newly refilled mug. "You're lucky you got away." Now he elbows Cade, who looks emptily back at him.

The look on Cade's face tells Simon everything he needs to know about the sincerity of all that physical affection. He shouldn't, perhaps, have asked about Cade's childhood or family, as fraught as the subject can be even for templars who aren't Cade, but Simon can't take the blame for Callum's determination to make this an issue of the grass being greener on the other side, when it is rather transparently not.

"Maker forbid anyone expect a thing like dignity," he says, with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes as he sips from his water. "Truly, we are the fortunate ones."

Knighthood or no, he and Cade are still a 'we' in the face of an opinion like that.

"At the expense of what, enjoying your life?" Callum shoots back with a roll of his eyes, "or do Chantry boys give all that up too?" He's not trying to be provocative, necessarily; he's frustrated, but still smiling. "What's even the issue with you two? It's like coming to a party with a stump under each arm."

Cade is just staring at the table. This is fine.

"That is the idea, yes." Simon's tone is every bit as cheerful, just as upbeat. "It's the vows of poverty, mostly. They do make it inconvenient to keep up an active nightlife. And that's when you can get off duty, of course. It's not often that you can. Sure, you can sneak out; we all do it now and again, but if you're caught, they cut your lyrium rations. I tell you, there's really nothing like needing half a day just to remember your own name once they take pity on you and give it back. But we've all been there, haven't we?"

This isn't helping Cade; he's sure of it. He regrets it all once the words are out, but now it's probably too late to de-escalate, and he can't very well un-remind Cade of everything he's no longer a part of.

Callum scoffs, but seems less confident in his argument. He doesn't know anything about what Templars really do, about lyrium and that whole situation, just that they're knights of the Chantry and supposedly embody goodness and purity. Or something like that.
"...they've got you lot doped then?" he asks hesitantly. "Like, twice a day?"

Cade suddenly mumbles something about the privy and gets up, excusing himself from the table. He's not too subtle about just walking out of the tavern instead. Well... more stumbling, and he has to catch himself on the doorframe.

Callum looks from him to Simon, obviously confused.

His stomach sinks as he watches Cade leave, but his regret is limited only to the consequences of what he's said--though he knows he ought to go face those, and pretty quickly.

"Yeah, the stories don't tell you that bit," he says to Callum. "Spoils the illusion, I suppose. If you'll excuse me?"

He gets up and heads out the door in search of Cade.

Confused, Callum lags behind. He takes a sip of his ale and watches Simon take off as well, furrowing his brow and trying to decide what to do next.

Cade has landed with his back against the wall outside the tavern, his head bowed and his face scrunched up like he's either about to cry or he's berating himself or maybe both. He catches Simon's frame out of the corner of his eye and shakes his head, taking one step away that turns into a stumble, and he has to catch himself on a barrel.
This turns into a very brief struggle to straighten, and then his body deciding that no, it's actually time to give up entirely, and without any warning whatsoever he vomits. Maybe onto the street, maybe onto Simon's shoes, he's not picky. Today is a bad day.

He hadn't expected to have to catch Cade, and looks positively despairing when Cade appears about to flee, but perhaps that would have been preferable after all to what actually ensues.

It is fortunate for Simon's armor that he's not in the habit of wearing it to bars. It is less fortunate for Simon's second-best pair of boots, which bear the brunt of every sad mishap today that has eventually culminated in Cade's upchucking all over them.

"Oh, for the love of--"

On the bright side, maybe Simon can consider this his penance for betraying the Order.

"All right. Enough's enough, mate. Come on. I'll pay for the room if you won't, but you can't tell me you wouldn't be better off in bed."

Once he's gotten it, er... out of his system, Cade is exhausted, and sinks to the ground by the barrels. "Sorry," he says pathetically, "I'm sorry." He only vaguely knows what he's apologizing for, but mostly it's just that he's incapacitated and being a disaster and feels awful and he can tell Simon is irritated, all of which would individually ruin a night but instead are happening simultaneously.
At least he nods, and is docile enough to be guided, though standing on his own is a bit of a challenge now that his stomach is lurching and he very much wants to pass out in the street. Would it be so wrong?

Callum has come to stand in the doorway with a look torn between confusion and disgust. He's obviously not sober himself, but certainly not sloppy, not like this. He looks to Simon with an almost eerily Cade-like glance, though instead of 'am I doing passably' it seems to communicate 'you're dealing with this, right?'

He can hardly stay irritated--or openly so, anyway--with Cade in a state like this. Simon rubs at the back of his neck, trying and failing to kick the worst of the mess off his boots, and reaches down to offer Cade an apologetic hand.

"It happens," he says. "Let's forget about it."

He catches Callum's eye as he looks up, and Cade-like though that glance may be, it does not incline Simon to sympathy. He meets it expressionlessly, and turns away again.

"C'mon. Better you spend the night here than try to get across town again. It's all right."

Fortunately the offending vomit is mostly liquid, so it won't be too hard to clean; but still, it is what it is.
"Sorry," Cade says again, as though he didn't hear him, but he seems oddly placated by the hand on his neck. He shudders, but sighs, and doesn't jerk away like he normally would. Then he nods, ready to go pretty much anywhere Simon decides they should.

Callum trails after them silently, with a look of derisive uncertainty. Who even is this, and what has he done with his brother? Or is this just what six-year-old Kitty grew into? It's not attractive.

As long as Cade's all right to navigate stairs, Simon thinks they'll be mostly all right, but he's not actually sure of that at all as they make their way to the bar. Callum would be a convenient target onto which he can transfer all of his irritation, but that would take energy at the moment better expended on getting Cade squared away.

Mostly. "You going to chip in for the room, or was getting him to this state the extent of your financial assistance?"

Callum simply holds his hands up with a smirk, as if to say yo, I never bargained for this. It's fairly clear he won't be covering anything.
Cade is able to navigate the stairs with Simon's assistance, apologizing every time he stumbles. If he were aware enough of his own mental state to notice that he's not currently worried about Templar things, he might consider this a positive turn of events: all he wants to do is go to bed and/or die.
In the morning, he'll no doubt awaken with a headache and a strong compulsion to find Simon and repay him somehow. Unfortunately, Callum has other plans.

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[open] together we can see what we will find

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