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Entry tags:
[closed] I hope we hang on past the last exit
WHO: Cade and Nerva
WHAT: emotionally-stunted weirdo party
WHEN: post-Abomination, pre-Templar meeting
WHERE: the battlements
NOTES: Maybe angst? Warning for second-hand embarrassment?
In the absence of his commanding officer and any real instruction, Cade had been left to his own devices. This had only happened a handful of times since he'd begun his Templar training and had not been a pretty picture on any occasion, as the man would simply pick a menial way to occupy himself and do it until he was told to stop.
His first few hours making the rounds on the battlements would have alarmed no one, the only strangeness to them being that he kept his watch inward upon Skyhold rather than out at the surrounding terrain. But the hours crept on, and the Knight-Lieutenant began more and more to resemble a lion in a cage, pacing endlessly, circling and checking and watching with little thought for rest of any kind. He would periodically pause on the path above the kitchens, look down pensively, and almost seem as though he might stop and take a break, and would then shake his head and allow his restless feet to launch into yet another round.
As evening fell he was beginning to drag, but the tautness of his jaw and brow betrayed his anxiety. He would likely continue into the night, until he couldn't stand it anymore. Or just plain couldn't stand.
WHAT: emotionally-stunted weirdo party
WHEN: post-Abomination, pre-Templar meeting
WHERE: the battlements
NOTES: Maybe angst? Warning for second-hand embarrassment?
In the absence of his commanding officer and any real instruction, Cade had been left to his own devices. This had only happened a handful of times since he'd begun his Templar training and had not been a pretty picture on any occasion, as the man would simply pick a menial way to occupy himself and do it until he was told to stop.
His first few hours making the rounds on the battlements would have alarmed no one, the only strangeness to them being that he kept his watch inward upon Skyhold rather than out at the surrounding terrain. But the hours crept on, and the Knight-Lieutenant began more and more to resemble a lion in a cage, pacing endlessly, circling and checking and watching with little thought for rest of any kind. He would periodically pause on the path above the kitchens, look down pensively, and almost seem as though he might stop and take a break, and would then shake his head and allow his restless feet to launch into yet another round.
As evening fell he was beginning to drag, but the tautness of his jaw and brow betrayed his anxiety. He would likely continue into the night, until he couldn't stand it anymore. Or just plain couldn't stand.