[closed] you suck so passionately

[onlyhymns]

WHO: Beleth, Cade (Alistair later)((AND NERVA))
WHAT: THROW DOWN
WHEN: the last day or so in Emprise de Lion
WHERE: Sahrnia Camp
NOTES: There will be a thread for reactions if you'd like your character to be present/see it from the side, but please don't intervene!



Cade has been a bit off since the red lyrium incident. The initial bout of overt aggression passed a while ago, but he has remained sensitive to how much still hangs around the camps; this compounded with how little sleep he's getting, how cold it is here, and the general desolation of being in a place where so many of his former brethren have been fouled by evil, has put him in a black mood colored by the lingering paranoia and heightened aggression he's felt ever since coming in contact with the accursed stuff.

He is on-duty as a camp guard, having been held back from returning to the field as a result of what happened the last time. He has worn a ditch in the snow from his ceaseless pacing, and his bearing is twitchy, over-reactive, and suspicious.

Comments

[keeperofmagi]

"Cade." The word snaps through the frost bitten air as if shot from a bow, slamming through the scene far before the owner of the voice appears, stalking out towards him through the tents. She had only caught the tail end - heard the screams and immediately started over - finding Cade in a stand off with a Warden, and an elf on the ground.

Her eyes blaze.

"Stand down," She snaps again, stomping through the snow towards them - at an angle. "Now."

[byblow]

Oh, look, a sword.

With another Templar attached, but that's fine, whatever. Alistair's hands stay up, but his shoulders sag, and he takes a step back to put a little more distance between himself and Cade—enough that his boot nudges against Beleth's arm where she's sobbing in the snow. Maybe that's comforting, or something.

"It's all right," he says—to Cade, not to Beleth, and it's more of an aspirational statement than an assurance. He doesn't want Nerva to kill him.

[onlyhymns]

Nerva's voice pierces right through the angry fog, and Cade's posture slackens as he turns to observe her approach in dumb surprise. He lowers his sword and takes a step back, casting a glance at the nervous Alistair and the prone Beleth, his brow knitting as though confused by their presence.

[arlathvhen]

Alistair's nudge is enough to get her attention, at least. She starts at the contact, peeking up at the boot to ascertain if this one is going to be stomping all over her, too. Luckily, the only stomping seems to be from Nerva, her voice cutting through to even Beleth's mind. But Nerva is no ally, not like Alistair, and she can't puzzle out if she's here to help her, or lend her sword to Cade.

It's enough to pull her out of hysterics, though it can't stop the crying itself. Beleth curls up tighter, watching the other woman with fearful eyes. Alistair's boot is given a nudge back, maybe to comfort him, or let him know she hasn't permanently transformed into a banshee, or maybe to warn him that Nerva is a big meanie face.

"D-Don't let them kill me," is helpfully added in a hoarse whisper, because it's not like that has been what Alistair has been trying to do, or that he needed to be asked. If he could even hear her--she's not trying very hard to speak up. "Please. I-I'm sorry."

[keeperofmagi]

Lowering his sword was a good start, but it wasn't enough - and without any thought to whether or not he would try to stab her - (because he would regret it, if he did) - she stomps right up to him and grabs the wrist of his sword arm, wrestling the blade free.

"What are you doing?" She hissed at him, tossing the sword into the snow, but not letting go of his wrist.

[byblow]

Alistar echoes the question with his face: a puzzled, disappointed frown and brow furrow, looking Cade from head to toe in case he's—something. Possessed. That wouldn't actually be better. Finding nothing, and reasonably certain that Nerva isn't going to murder all three of them, he shakes his head a little as if to dislodge a thought and turns his back on both Templars to crouch facing Beleth.

"No one's killing anyone," he says, an elbow on his bent knee and his hand opened toward her in case she wants to get up out of the snow. He wouldn't particularly blame her if not.

[onlyhymns]

Cade's first instinct, of course, is to fight Nerva, but for once his better judgment outweighs his instinct. He does resist lightly, but then his sword is gone and his wrist is gripped and she's staring him down like a bolt of lightning, and Cade finds he has no idea what to say. He looks once more back at Alistair and Beleth, and clarity dawns.
"I ... I didn't," he stammers, and tries to tug himself away from Nerva.

[arlathvhen]

"He tr-tried." Her voice is a little louder now, resentful, but between the hoarseness and the pathetic little sniffles, it lacks any bite. She glances to Alistair, then at the two templars, and does not look particularly convinced of Alistair's reassurance. Neither is the hand accepted because she is, as a matter of fact, perfectly content to not get up. Maybe ever. Maybe she'll just live here in the snow from now on.

After a few shaky breaths, she pulls herself up a little. Enough to take Alistair's hand. Rather than get up, she tries to pull him closer to her so she can clutch onto him. It's not as much a hug as it is desperately clinging to a source of security. "I'm sorry," She repeats, then keeps repeating. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

[keeperofmagi]

"He tried what," She hissed, having heard Beleth. But she wasn't speaking to her. Her eyes had not left Cade's, her grip on his wrist had not slackened. If anything, it was even stronger now.

"What are you trying, Cade? Because to me it looks like you were trying to attack our allies, and I seem to recall that was not something you were going to do."

[byblow]

Alistair accepts the pulling and clutching, falling from his crouch into a kneel to keep from tipping over in the process, and makes a few quiet, instinctive attempts as shushing Beleth while Cade and Nerva go on behind him. It's Nerva's tone that makes him twist around to look, pulling Beleth partially along. He doesn't want anybody to kill Cade, either.

"Something is wrong," he says. "He didn't look like himself."

Himself, the way Alistair remembers it, is over a decade younger in addition to not shaking with murderous rage at an unarmed elf. So he's not really qualified to comment. Just worried.

[onlyhymns]

Cade has gone from fight mode to flight, and Nerva holding onto him is wracking up his nerves. "I'm sorry," he whimpers, unable to form a further explanation because he doesn't even know where to start. On some level he understands he's in the wrong, and therefore saying anything beyond an apology would be a waste of everyone's time.
"...I don't know, I'm sorry," he continues desperately, and he tugs again at Nerva's grip. He hasn't been held onto like this in recent memory, and it's unsettling. He has to get out of here, he's ruined everything. He resolves, in his panic, to leave the camp, to go where no one can find him or will ever have to see or talk to him again. He just... needs Nerva to let go first.

[arlathvhen]

Holding onto Alistair, who is solid and safe and probably won't let anyone kill her, is enough to start Beleth on the path to slowly gathering herself. She adjusts as she's pulled with Alistair, sniffling and occasionally hiccuping, tears still spotting at her eyes. But at Nerva's words, she manages to murmur under her breath, voice resentful. "He didn't try to attack me."

But with blood trickling out of a nose that is now leaning a little to the left, more blood dripping from the miscellaneous little cuts across her face, and a large red spot on the side of her face that will grow up one day to become an ugly bruise, maybe she's justified.

But even so, it's...hard to feel angry at Cade. He looks like she feels, like a fennec gripped by a wolf. Wanting to run and run and keep running until safety is finally found. He even sounds like her, with the babbling apologies. Guilt was already bubbling in her mind, because guilt is a constant in Beleth's life, if something bad happens, it's probably her fault. And it whispers to her that sure enough, this entire mess is her fault. She provoked him. She baited him and he fell for it. She considers confessing this to the group, but Nerva is there, and she is sharp and angry and the idea of having that piercing glare turned to her makes her throat start to close again.

She doesn't want Alistair to be angry with her either, for that matter. But he just saved her and if anyone deserves to know, he does. "I made him mad." She whispers it to Alistair, keeping her eyes warily on Nerva and Cade. "It's my fault. He told me to go away and I didn't so he hit me." She pauses, then adds. "Don't tell her. She's already grabbed me once and she told me if I did it again she'll drag me to the dungeons." Any pity she felt for Cade was outweighed by just how damned scary Nerva was.

[keeperofmagi]

She finally let go of him, disgust written on her face.

"You're not leaving my sight until we arrive back in Skyhold," She told him, bluntly, picking up his sword.

"Give me your scabbard."

[byblow]

"It's not your fault," Alistair says to Beleth, but that's all: she's saying too much, too quickly, and he's still trying to pay attention to Cade. He'll come back to it later (Nerva did what?) but for now he only pats her back, a clumsy attempt at soothing, and moves to stand up. He does his best to bring her along with him, onto her feet.

You're not leaving my sight isn't I'm going to kill you.

"I'm going to take her to find a healer," he says, looking between the Templars. Cade looks terrified, but—good. He deserves it, at the moment.

[onlyhymns]

Cade stares for a moment and Nerva, as though he didn't quite hear her, but her face tells him everything he needs to know. In a motion reminiscent of a slinking, guilty dog, he bends to start unfastening his scabbard. He glances at Alistair when he speaks, and then immediately looks away again, his pale face burning with the shame of it. When his scabbard is loosed, he gingerly holds it out to Nerva, and doesn't meet her eyes again. This is it: if he isn't executed, no doubt he'll at least be out of the Order, cut off from lyrium and sent off to lose his mind where he can't bother anyone. He can't decide which sounds worse.

[arlathvhen]

Beleth is thus pulled to her feet, with some reluctance, because spending the rest of her life in the snow hadn't really seemed like a bad plan. She'd also like to argue with Alistair about fault. But she's already there, standing, staring at Nerva and Cade. The look on her face is unsure and wary. The elf can't decide if she hates Cade, or pities him. Perhaps both.

He was going to kill her. He would have killed her.

She swallows her guilt for now, letting it settle unpleasantly. She turns to Alistair, nodding. "I--I'd like that, please. A-And. Um. Thank you." She supposed that she ought to thank Nerva, but the woman had yet to acknowledge her outside of being a thing that Cade had hit that he should not have hit, and she was pretty okay with that. Maybe she'll send a note.