Maker help him, this is where he had to be at the start. Working late, Cade was at a table by the window when it rattled with the force of the storm, and has been peering out between writing passages, watching the rain and the ice. He's familiar with Kirkwall winters, and although the weather seems a little worse than usual, surely it's not--
--the window blows open, extinguishing his candle, soaking him with rainwater, and scattering papers everywhere. Cade turns with a muttered curse to stoop and collect them, but upon looking up he's met with the sight of three hanging bodies. A cry of horror, the papers dropped, and the stumbling realization that not only does he recognize these figures: he remembers how they got here, and was-- though his memory is foggy on these matters-- perhaps even part of it. A sound somewhere between a whine and a moan escapes him as he skirts the area, tripping over every chair and fixture on the way, his mind racing beyond any sensibility as he stumbles for the door.
II. The Gallows Courtyard
Staggering out into the hail, Cade shields his head with one shaking arm and blinks at his surroundings: he's been up late, did he imagine it? There's an awful sound on the wind, like a child screaming, and-- no, it can't be. He steps toward the courtyard in disbelief, lowering his arm to see better: more bodies, more nooses, more memories, all too recent. "No," he whimpers to no one-- is that Knight-Commander Meredith's voice?-- and he turns to see as she and Orsino quibble at the steps. He knows what comes next, he can still smell it, feel the shudder of his bones and the seizing of his heart; he looks toward the Chantry, where it should still stand for this to make sense, and yet the space is empty save for a few trees. Has this all been a dream, had he imagined it, has he lost his mind? Did he ever leave Meredith's side, did he ever see the things he saw, or-- worse, has he been living his life past these moments, only to be visited with some sort of divine punishment? What other explanation could there be? He falls to his knees on the wet cobblestones, gripping at his hair with a plaintive wail barely as loud as that of the ghostly voices around him.
FIVE ALARM FUCK THIS
Maker help him, this is where he had to be at the start.
Working late, Cade was at a table by the window when it rattled with the force of the storm, and has been peering out between writing passages, watching the rain and the ice. He's familiar with Kirkwall winters, and although the weather seems a little worse than usual, surely it's not--
--the window blows open, extinguishing his candle, soaking him with rainwater, and scattering papers everywhere. Cade turns with a muttered curse to stoop and collect them, but upon looking up he's met with the sight of three hanging bodies.
A cry of horror, the papers dropped, and the stumbling realization that not only does he recognize these figures: he remembers how they got here, and was-- though his memory is foggy on these matters-- perhaps even part of it.
A sound somewhere between a whine and a moan escapes him as he skirts the area, tripping over every chair and fixture on the way, his mind racing beyond any sensibility as he stumbles for the door.
II. The Gallows Courtyard
Staggering out into the hail, Cade shields his head with one shaking arm and blinks at his surroundings: he's been up late, did he imagine it? There's an awful sound on the wind, like a child screaming, and-- no, it can't be.
He steps toward the courtyard in disbelief, lowering his arm to see better: more bodies, more nooses, more memories, all too recent. "No," he whimpers to no one-- is that Knight-Commander Meredith's voice?-- and he turns to see as she and Orsino quibble at the steps. He knows what comes next, he can still smell it, feel the shudder of his bones and the seizing of his heart; he looks toward the Chantry, where it should still stand for this to make sense, and yet the space is empty save for a few trees.
Has this all been a dream, had he imagined it, has he lost his mind? Did he ever leave Meredith's side, did he ever see the things he saw, or-- worse, has he been living his life past these moments, only to be visited with some sort of divine punishment?
What other explanation could there be?
He falls to his knees on the wet cobblestones, gripping at his hair with a plaintive wail barely as loud as that of the ghostly voices around him.
III. ???
[We'll figure something out!]