[open] where I go
WHO: Knight-Lieutenant Cade Harimann and you
WHAT: A jumpy templar is out of the dungeon and getting his bearings on Skyhold. What horrors will he face? (by horrors I mean other people)
WHEN: Early Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES:If your character met him during speed dating, feel free to assume that conversation happened IC (except Nerva) and that they're already acquainted.
WHAT: A jumpy templar is out of the dungeon and getting his bearings on Skyhold. What horrors will he face? (by horrors I mean other people)
WHEN: Early Haring
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES:If your character met him during speed dating, feel free to assume that conversation happened IC (except Nerva) and that they're already acquainted.
Finally unleashed upon his new home, and wearing his traveling leathers with the unmistakeable flaming Templar sword emblazoned on the chest, Cade made his way around Skyhold with the intention of finding a purpose for himself.
1. The battlements. Cade was unnerved by crowds and limited sightlines, so he had taken to spending a good chunk of time up in the battlements. It gave him an opportunity to watch, listen, and grow accustomed to life below, which was so very different than how he'd come to understand the world.
2. The training grounds. Although he had first been seen in his heavy Templar plate, wielding a sword, left to his own devices Cade was more likely to use the archery range. He was an exceptionally good shot, and spent hours shooting targets with the single-minded concentration of one who was trying not to think about anything at all.
3. The chapel. He could often be found alone in the small chamber just off the cloistered garden, on his knees and with his head bowed to the altar of Andraste.
4. Anywhere! Give me a place and I'll find a reason that he'd be there.
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There was a reflexive little shudder, and she fell further behind Cole's shadow. Her eyes trailed upwards from the praying templar to the statue above him, Andraste in cold stone with arms stretched outward.
"Pain. Shame. Coward. He fears fearing, the things the shadow holds. Monsters with men's faces," she hissed quietly, words meant for Cole alone. "He won't want us here."
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"You don't have to be afraid," Cole assured him. "But I can see why you are. You think it's secret, silent, something to suffer on your own." Why, he wondered, when there were other Templars around?
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It's no wonder he's exhausted. Being terrified constantly drains you.
Finally, there's a faint tip of her head, inquisitive. Curious. Not afraid.
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"What are you," he said, with cautious resignation. If he was hallucinating, so be it. If not, he wanted answers.
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About River. He'd have less luck asking about the boy in the hat.
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Never a fun feeling.
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He was dancing around the point. "You don't have to be afraid of us." Repeating it, hoping it got across this time. "You're already exhausted. You can put it down."
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Slowly she edged out from behind Cole's shadow, her feet cold against the stone of the sanctuary. "You thought you were going to die. Waited for it, too tired for anything but an end. Afraid of blood magic and abominations, striking out blindly. She knows too much."
Her head shook slowly. "I'm not those things. I'm not angry. I want to help. We both do."
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"What's going to happen to me," he asked feebly. If they could read his mind, surely they knew more.
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He was willing to try again. He stepped forward, and so long as Cade didn't run, he would join him at the alter, sitting crosslegged rather than kneeling.
"You're worried about the Commander."
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Cole's voice echoed softly in the room, warmer against the stone than the brief flicker of candlelight that sputtered at the statue's feet. She still lingered back some distance, eyes on Cade almost wistfully.
Maybe she could learn to help them better, if she watched. All she seemed to do was unnerve him.
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Cade watched Cole warily, his heart nonetheless giving a pang at his clearer view of the youth, so thin and pale that he resembled a corpse. He glanced again at River. The pair of them, he realized, weren't much older than he was when-... no. He pushed the thought back and looked away abruptly, his fingers tensing into fists on his thighs as he fought back waves of panic and revulsion.
"..um.." he stammered, but couldn't collect his racing thoughts well enough to tell them to leave.
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That same revulsion rose in him: a reflection of the man's emotions, but also a reaction to what Cole had seen before the door to those memories had been quickly shut. Not enough to see it all, to know the whole shape of things, but enough to feel the horror. To know that something — someone — had ruptured his trust this thoroughly.
"He got it wrong." The words were pulled out of him: hushed, but soaked through with his sudden conviction. This was the most important thing that could be said. "He only spoke the words. The rest was hollow."
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The terror is familiar, closing at the throat, the sense of you were supposed to help me, and River feels her skin crawl all over again without knowing fully why. He'd believed the words, hidden in them like armor, a light to banish the darkness. But light guttered, faltered with his fear.
Would Cole's words find the mark? Some hurts went too deep, too buried beneath scars to be healed easily.
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Cade had buried his face in his hands, his fingers clawed as though he sought to penetrate his own flesh and remove it entirely. He faced fully away from them now, cowering like a beaten dog, unable to look at them again. He had no further defenses, and could only hope they would accept his plea.
Tonight would be bad. He would spend far too long in the steams, scrubbing his skin raw, but he would never be clean enough.
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"I tugged, and it tore. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry." Perhaps the words were worth something. To himself, if not to the templar, because:
"Forget." Cole spoke the word with a wave of his hand, creating a hole in the man's memory and allowing the past few minutes to slip into it, and disappear. He stood, and walked toward the door without looking back. He only paused to speak, briefly, to River:
"We should go."