faderift | Tell me a story long and true

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Tell me a story long and true

WHO: Mia Rutherford and OPEN
WHAT: So much to do, so little time. Bustling around Skyhold.
WHEN: Wintermarch. Feel free to fudge the dates as needed.
WHERE: All over the bloody keep.
NOTES: n/a

The weeks press on. The world looks to the Inquisition to see what happens next, the mages and templars struggle to prove their independence and their willingness to work towards the greater good, and a calm finally seems to have settled over the keep in the wake of the abomination attack. Personal trials seem almost trivial in comparison.

Almost. She's still noticeably avoiding Pel, and stiffly departing if the woman ever comes around.

But there's more to be dealt with than one sour encounter. She drops in on Cullen from time to time now, a little less concerned with keeping her distance than she is with how well he's dealing with the lyrium-induced headaches. She visits Katniss soon after hearing about the unfortunate scuffle with one of the soldiers, though part of her is pleased that she's holding her own. There are care packages to be made up and delivered to various families and individuals within Skyhold -- herbs for the healers from the travelers and scouts, and sometimes cookies for the children -- and all in all life is as busy as it should be.

Better than sitting at home in South Reach and fretting, with no one to tend to. Though what must it say about her that she only feels at ease when she's seeing to someone else's needs? Likely nothing she wants to hear, admittedly.

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Cade smiles a little, once again finding that it comes easily with someone like Mia. At her question, he looks around, then down, blushing sheepishly. "Not much, my lady, no," he concedes. "But one day it might." It's fortunate they have him up here making sure the sky doesn't fall into the mountains.

"I won't hold my breath for the mountains to move on my account."

A breath taken, she reaches up to tuck a loose lock of hair back behind her ear. In the wind, it's near impossible to keep it all neat, but she's not going to be too troubled with her looks. Never has been, really. No reason to start now.

"You've been well, I hope?"

"Ah... yes," Cade decides. As well as can be considering the circumstances, which is to say, he's still alive and hasn't gone back to the dungeon yet.
"And you as well?"

The uncertainty in that answer stirs some curiosity on her part, but she presses it back down again. Gently.

"Mm. I've been managing to keep myself busy, at the very least," she replies a bit wryly, hands folding primly in front of her. "Although I find myself in need of a few moments respite, apparently. Must be all the fresh air."

"It is thinner up here," Cade replies, unsure of what that even means or where he heard it, but it's a thing to say.
"..I hope I'm not keeping you." This is said with an air of sudden realization. She's busy, of course she doesn't have time to just stop and talk to every idiot who crosses her path. "...I... can escort you again, if you wish it."

"No, of course you're not keeping me. I'd have told you so." Though the smile that follows says she would have at least done so kindly.

"But, as it happens, I was planning on circling about to the kitchens for some of cookies I stored there this morning. Took the long route, I think, but I wouldn't mind some company on the walk over."

Cade believes her, and his faint smile states accordingly. He nods, in what is almost another bow, and offers his arm for her to take. "I'm glad to provide it," he says quietly. "How is the Commander faring?"

There's an almost scoffing laugh at that. Cullen's life of late has been complicated at best. Paramour engaging in fights on his behalf, the ridiculousness of the rumor mill, his lyrium withdrawals...all problems she did not want to add to. And certainly had no business telling anyone else.

"He manages. As we all do. Though he seems to take a great deal of pride in what the Inquisition has accomplished thus far. That's the best you could hope for, really."

Cade is surprised by the scoff, though he doesn't pry. He's not invested in the rumor mill himself, often preferring to pretend it doesn't exist at all-- at least when it concerns the people he knows or himself.

"As he should," he replies pensively, "I am interested to see where the Inquisition goes from here. And what our role in it will be." As Templars, no doubt. Or... not-Templars.

"Frightening, isn't it? The whole world turned on its head, everything we know shifting balance and going off-kilter...and yet we still fall prey to the same petty differences. The same arguments. Little insecurities. Little problems."

Mia hums thoughtfully. "I've no grand prospects myself, but I do wish you and your brothers well. Perhaps the Order can be salvaged in a fashion. Cullen would tell me of the good that could be done. Perhaps it will do so again."

Little insecurities. Little problems. Is that all they are?

"Your care is appreciated," Cade replies, with a quirk of his mouth, not quite a smile. "...if it is not salvaged, I admit I'm... afraid of what might replace it." But he's afraid of a lot of things.

"I can hardly blame you. It's easy enough to say mistakes were made, but harder to find ways to keep them from repeating. Surely things began with good intentions, before things because quite so dire. It's discouraging."

She gave Cade's arm a gentle pat of encouragement. "But one must have hope. Maker willing, we will do all we can to put the world back together again. Into some semblance of order."

Mia's voice is reassuring, and she's calming to walk beside, and Cade wonders if perhaps he didn't seek her out on purpose.

"Maker willing," he agrees thoughtfully, smiling a bit more at the pat on his arm.

It's good to see him smile, even it looks like a tired, timid thing that barely surfaces. It's worth that much, taking the long way around if it means the man has occasion to not feel so terribly alone.

An easy thing to feel in this place.

"But enough of that gloomy business. I've been trying to think of different treats for the little ones here. Surely they'll grow tired of cookies, eventually. Tell me your thoughts."

Cade's smile quickly fades, and he looks a bit more on-edge, for reasons unknown. "I don't know," he says, "I don't know anything about children." His haste to say so is almost knee-jerk, which, at least, he realizes. "...toys?"

"I doubt I could cook those quite so easily."

It wasn't a question meant to make him anxious once more, and she presses on as though nothing were amiss in what he'd said. "I only meant that I might try to make something else in addition...are there any desserts you're particularly fond of?"

Cade shakes his head, internally berating himself for his answer. "Um..." he stalls, trying to focus his thoughts, "...cakes." Everyone loves cakes, right?

"Cakes. Little ones, perhaps?"

She motioned with her hand, cupping in the air. "You know, I think I do have a way of making honeycakes. Dreadfully messy, but I doubt the children would mind," she continues, eyebrow raising.

He considers this, then nods. Yes. Little cakes. That's ideal.

"I doubt it," he agrees, a bit sheepishly still, but the side of his mouth quirks upward again. It's been years since he last had a honeycake, and now she's reminded him of them.

"Ah. So you're familiar with them."

There's a faint twinkle in her eye as her attention turns towards the stone steps, leading down towards the lower levels of the bailey, and eventually the kitchens proper. Already the smell wafting up is incredible.

Cade blushes again, busted, and just nods his head. Now that they're approaching the kitchens, his temporary duty is nearly exhausted.

"I hope I was able to help," he says, his voice soft and genteel, "and that the rest of your day finds you well."

"You did. Though perhaps you might help me again when the honeycakes are finished, and test them for me? I'd hate to give them to the childreen if they weren't any good."

And it's an excuse to see him smile again. Truly warms the heart to see. She already feels like he might deserve a little care package or two, if only she knew who to leave it with...

A light laugh escapes him, but only for a moment. "If my lady insists," he decides, and bows to her in the usual genteel manner.

"I may, in fact. Come back in a few hours, or whenever you have the time to spare. I'll require your help then."

And it might prove a slightly less numbing alternative to skulking around on the battlements. He had the look of a starved hound pacing a cage up there, by himself. There was no reason she couldn't try to help at least one more person while she was at it.

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Tell me a story long and true

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