[semi-open] a friendly query

[stabsbooks]

WHO: Cassandra and rifters/shardbearers
WHAT: Rifter interrogations
WHEN: Following Cassandra's log with Galadriel and the advisors' conversation
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: For planned rifter/shardbearer interrogation threads with Cassandra! If we haven't discussed your character's thread, please drop me a note here or hit me up on Plurk for general (this can be very general) setup/discussion of what you hope the outcome to be. She'll be most interested in talking to rifter mages, but we can swing her interrogating anyone with a shard.

With or without your support, she had said to the Spymaster, and she had meant it. She would have preferred that Leliana understand her position, the necessity of action - but she does not, and dwelling on it will do nothing to change that now. Whether anyone else sees it or not, Cassandra at least recognizes the risk that the shardbearers pose. If nothing else, they must understand who the rifters are, what they are capable of - and what they may do.

There are still plenty who agree with her, who are not as idealistic in this matter as Leliana, and it's not difficult to find soldiers willing to find those of interest and bring them to her, one at a time. She waits until each is seated before she turns to face them, and always begins the same way, whether she recognizes them or not.

"I am Cassandra Pentaghast, and I represent the Inquisition. State your name, and where you come from."

Comments

[motherfucking_ghost]

Church struggled at first, confused and offended. Having no chance against armed soldiers, though, he settled for whining and bitching the entire way.

The entire way. Up until they let go of him after they practically drop him into the seat. Sneers at their backs when they move away, readjusting his top and trying to do that sniffing in disdain thing but doesn't really come off as cool as he wants it to.

"Okay, first off," he starts, which is never a good way for him to start at someone who is clearly a figure of authority, "you could tell Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum over here to be a little more careful. Could've ripped my arm out of its socket." It was not that rough. "And second, what the fuck is this about?" Church crosses his arms. "Do I need a lawyer or something? ...Do you guys even have lawyers here?"

[bookish_lioness]

Though she might have just come from a war not too long ago, Hermione still isn't used to being someplace where the soldiers are armed with physical weapons rather than magic. Magic is frightening enough on its own, but when your own magic isn't working properly and the people talking to you are carrying actual swords, you learn to be diplomatic and do as they ask. Especially when all they seem to be asking is for her to follow them, saying something about a "Seeker" and a "discussion" and using a tone that makes her think better of correcting them when they refer to her as a mage. It's no secret that she knows magic (and it's so nice to know that Skyhold is little better than Hogwarts when it comes to spreading news), so she simply allows herself to be led and decides she can clear this whole mess up with a very simple, civil conversation.

She isn't sure what she's expecting, but she suddenly feels as though she should be on the defensive when this tall, severe-looking woman addresses her after she takes a seat. Trying to brush it off, she sits up straight and replies, "I'm Hermione Granger. When you ask where I'm from, do you mean where I was born, or where I was before ending up here? There isn't much of a difference, really, since I'm led to understand that you likely hadn't heard of either place; I live in a country called England, but I was away at school in neighboring Scotland when I... fell here."

Hoping that she hadn't somehow broken some rule since her arrival at Skyhold, she tilts her head and tries not to look hesitant as she asks, "Have I done something wrong, or is this standard procedure for new arrivals?"

[obi_wanmanshow]

Obi-Wan had come along willingly. Not because he had to, of course; extracting himself from the escort would have been well within his skillset. But, he's curious, and this council of leaders, spearheading the Inquisition by some mysterious mechanic of charisma and seniority have yet to address them all personally, in any real capacity.

He likes to think of himself as a reasonable man; he carefully packs away the disassembled pieces of his lightsaber, safe enough as it is for now, and does as he's told.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi," He hesitated, watching Cassandra's face as he speaks, but saw no recognition there. Not surprising, but nor was it encouraging, "I am a citizen of the Galactic Republic, first and foremost. In the service of that Republic, I'm afraid I don't have the luxury of keeping a permanent residence."

[eolasemah]

Sina is sitting up, watching the tent flap with restless intensity, waiting for the Seeker to emerge through it. Word was sent earlier that she should expect Cassandra, so she has done what she can to make herself look decent; her hair is tied back and there's a shawl over her shoulders to cover the nightshift she's wearing. Even through it can be seen the telltale green glint of the shard, which perpetually colors and flickers across the tent's interior.

Her thin hands clutch at the bedcover, and she casts a nervous glance to Nari as she hears approaching footsteps.

[aintwejust]

He'd been pretty sure he should give the soldiers looking for him the slip until word trickles through that it's for Seeker Pentaghast- and as much as he'd rather not sit in a room and be asked questions about much of anything making her day harder wasn't something he was about to do. Besides. Maybe she'll have some answers and if not? Maybe whatever he's got to say will make it easier on whoever else she drags in afterward.

No, that's not it.

He didn't give them the slip because he couldn't. Jayne kept wandering away from where he was trying to sneak out to find food and led them right to him. Funny thing, that. But he comes in nice and amiable, Jayne wandering behind. Sits and offers his best charming smile. It's been a long day, and it's about to get longer. "Seeker. Captain Malcolm Reynolds of the Freight Ship Serenity, Ferelden. And Jayne-"

Mal nudges the mabari with his boot, the hound flopped over and leaning against his Chair. "Of the same ship and...Don't rightly know, kinda inherited him from some asshole Orlesian noble what didn't know how to handle him."

[maladgogo]

He'd come along only mostly willingly. He didn't feel like being manhandled, after all, and certainly would prefer to get this overwith sooner rather than later, and be able to get back to trying to infiltrate the kitchens to see what sort of things he had to work with here. That was actually where he'd been found, in the middle of lamenting to a very done-with-his-shit old woman that he'd found something moving through the flour.

Now, he sits on the edge of his seat with his elbows propped on his knees, looking at Cassandra while dusting the last of the flour off his hands.

"Heard about you, you's one'a the advisers I'm supposed to be tryin'a talk at, right? About this shit." He holds up the hand with the mark on it, burned vertically into the meat of his palm. He stuck out the other hand to shake. "Most folks back home call me Gam, on account'a pronunciation issues. Born in Haiti, raised in Portsmouth, South Carolina. Pleasure to be meetin' you, miss Pentaghast."

[foxsays]

The first group she evades by chance. She was a thief for a long time before she became a guard and they’re hardly the most subtle persons to come marching but she’s small, light and nimble and so she manages to get up and onto the rooftops before they have a chance to come for her. Coming back down she is not so lucky, grabbed right as she’s coming down to the ground by swinging herself from the hayloft to the stables when a hand wraps around her wrist. The soldier receives a savage stamp to the instep before her other arm is grabbed and she’s dragged along, cursing them under her breath the entire time.

A shame none of them understand Antivan or the fact that she’s discussing how their mothers all fucked goats to produce them only without any wits before she’s dumped in the chair, rubbing her wrist. But she settles herself, righting her hair and straightening her coat before she even looks at Cassandra directly, eyes flicking up here and there

“Araceli Bonaventura y Castell,” but the speed at which she utters it blurs it into one long word perhaps, accent thicker than usual from annoyance. “In what capacity do you represent the Inquisition, I would like to know why I am accosted in public like a criminal and dragged before a stranger.”

[apostasia]

Well, this is starting out thrillingly. He'd have preferred to stand, all things being equal, but the decision had apparently not been his and so he sits, posture correct, hands at rest. There'd been no weapons on him to discard when he'd been collected, just busy at work in the library, and he'd cooperated with a shrug.

"Martel," he says, briefly. "I was born in Vardenais and educated in Demos, both cities in Elenia, on the Eosian continent. Lord Margrave of Damerel, formerly," a wryness in his voice; he can't exactly be the Lord Margrave of something that doesn't exist here, can he? "among other things." He's been open enough about his former knighthood, if not the reasons for his rejection of it.

(What he prefers people to think of as his rejection of it.)

"Presently I am an agent of the Inquisition."

If they're discussing where they come from, and, he suspects, to whom they owe their allegiances.

[lennethvalkyrie]

"Lenneth Valkyrie. I come from Valhalla--stronghold of the gods of my realm."

After word reached the valkyrie that the Seeker was questioning rifters, she sought the woman out herself; although it ends with her in the same chair, wondering what the importance of any rifter's realm of origin was. Bookkeeping? To trace if any rifters hailed from the same world? If that were the case... she paused for a moment, and then added: "If it is of concern, I have ascertained that I may have come from the same world as Marcel Girard, albeit from its past."

[eviscerates]

"Nice to meet you," Ruby replies, though there's a wryness to it. Not unfriendly, not scornful or unhelpful, but she was just escorted here by a couple of very burly men. Sure, she figured someone probably wasn't a fan of her balance-walking along the walls of the ramparts, but-- sometimes she just likes to lean into the wildness in her, a little, and she's pretty sure that's not harming anyone except for maybe Emma via her blood pressure.

"Ruby Lucas," she starts,before canting her head a little, brows furrowing with thoughtfulness rather than concern. "Some people call me 'Red,' though. The 'where I come from' part? That's gonna be a little more tricky. My world is sort of complicated."

And she is running a mental tally of the people who had seen her change into a wolf, and wondering if any of them told.