thecapitol | You have neither reason nor rhyme

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You have neither reason nor rhyme

Who| Cassandra Pentaghast and anyone!
What| Cassandra arrives between Arenas. She is unimpressed.
Where| Training Area, District 3 suits, and anywhere in the Capitol
When| Post arena 12
Warnings/Notes| TBD

Training Hall

[The sword had not been still from the moment she took it in hand. Hunger Games. Another stab, another burst of light as...some form of magical practice dummy burst before her, shattering in squares onto the ground around her before vanishing into thin air. It did little to assuage her theory this was yet another trick of spirits, of the Fade. Impossible for a Seeker to be so impacted by demons. Yet possible and im- had so very little to do with reality as of late. It was impossible for the ancient villains of religious text to appear and terrorize the world. This? This was child's play in comparison.

So she had taken to the training hall to think. Block, parry, thrust, kill. A simple dance of death against these magical conjectures, one that hardly took an ounce of her attention. It brought a calm no other activity could, save perhaps prolonged meditation. Kept her rage occupied as her mind contemplated her current state.

But the sound of another entering echoed through the hall, breaking the dance. She pivoted from the illusions, attention locked on to the potential threat. Without thought her sword pointed in the direction of the noise, her gaze locking onto the newcomer.]

District 3 Floor

[The tragedy was that the chambers were, by all measures, an improvement from her quarters in the Inquisition. There were no holes in the walls, none of Leliana's birds sneaking in to nest in her rafters. The exact function of much of her quarters was beyond her, but she hardly had the patience to sit about and figure them out. If it were important, she would come to terms with it in time. For now she would see the other captives of her cell block, and hold no illusions they were otherwise. The kitchens, however...

Cassandra had to scowl at the sheer unfamiliarity of the room. There were no fires, no mouser cat, no...no turnips burning for no apparent reason. Even the simplest of needs, nutrition, was a confusing endeavor in this nightmare. She stood in the doorway for a long moment before turning to return to the (slightly more logical) common area. Chairs, at least, were an unchanged concept.]

Wildcard
[She will be exploring and disapproving of the Capital and common area, feel free to bump into her scowling at things anywhere!]

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"I've had what you might call an interesting career, and I'm not really affiliated with the standard chains of command anymore," the depth of that understatement ran so thick that they almost had a flavor on her tongue, "But I'm a military woman, yes; if you want to formal title, it's Spectre."

If Cassandra Pentaghast wanted to know what a Spectre was, she'd have to ask.

"So you're, what, a... policing organization? It sounds like at least you're trying to do some good."

"We are. For all the good such things do us here."

Mage, templar, ambassador. All had ended up here alike in addition to herself. All, she was forced to note, agents of the Inquisition and not the other side. It did not bode particularly well.

"Have you noticed any patterns, Spectre? On what types of individuals from your home have arrived here?"

"Not as such. Mostly, it seems like, if you get one person from a particular world, others start showing up. Sometimes you'll get a whole group in like that all at once-- and then they'll start disappearing. Sometimes all of them, sometimes just a few," It was exactly as ominous as it sounded, "We haven't been informed by the powers that be what happens to them except that they're 'sent home,' if you believe their claims."

Shepard wasn't inclined to, for one.

"Sometimes it's children, sometimes it's soldiers, fighters, and sometimes it's just ordinary people, with no special skillset. Seems to be mostly random except for what I've already told you."

"Not those only aligned to one purpose or cause within that world?"

She was not sure if it would be a comfort or a source of distress no matter the answer. Either this world was stealing away the strongest supporters of the Inquisition, or one day their greatest enemy may simply appear within their common area. Truly, there was no clear 'better' answer.

"Sometimes. Look, we're all slaves here, no matter what it looks like, I don't have any special information on how they choose their victims," She leaned forward on her elbows, telegraphing her own anxious energy. It wasn't her favorite truth, by far, "You're worried about something. Just come out and say it."

"You have been here longer and do not, from first impression, appear the type to simply allow such a state."

She raised her eyebrows, inviting Shepard to contradict her if the impression was wrong.

"I would assume attempts have therefore been made. And failed. Which is more information newly branded chattel enters with."

"Course they have. I've been a part of it," there was no use hiding it-- even if Jane hadn't spent the better part of the last four months marked for it, this woman was like a bulldog. And that was dangerous, "But the consequences for getting caught are... li'l high. Unless you like being literally branded chattel, dying is the least of your worries. After all, everybody around here dies at least a few times."

"I have seen the Avox. I trust there is more? The typical imprisonment, torture, attempts at brainwashing?"

She would be going to the training arena after this. Or perhaps following Shepard's example and running long and hard through the city. Some kind of physical activity that, seated as she is, she cannot vent through at the moment. But knowing the potential prices, and if there were any this strange would could have possibly dreamed up she was not already aware of, was one step. One frustratingly small step on what she is increasingly realize will be a long journey...

But progress.

"And I should take it direct discussion of how attempts were made impossible."

Damn microphones.

"Well, I could probably tell you a couple of things they don't already know, but the guy who ultimately made it all possible was already executed, and I'm not real big on letting my friends in for any more torture," She had woken up from the last arena clean-faced, or at least as smooth as she'd ever been. The scars on her face ran deep, glowing with red cybernetic damage, but there was no mistaking them for proper burns, not like the brand.

Shepard lapsed into silence until the coffee arrived, then busied herself adding packet after packet of sugar to her mug.

"Avoxing is only the worst thing they can do to you. You got friends? Family? Spouse? They brought a bunch of people's families a few months ago, made a big show of it, like they'd just come in from the countryside, then dragged them away," She shrugged and buried her wince in the coffee. Ooh, hot, "I personally got to see the inside of some fairly shoddy interrogation methods. Intimidation, power-plays, the public executions are pretty bad, if only because they take their time with it. It's all kind of... Batarian."

"I am not familiar with the term. I am, however, in possession of a rather obscene number of relations. Most of which pride themselves on carrying around the paperwork to prove it."

Relations for which she cared next to nothing. But that was not the point, she knew. The masters of this world's great Game had already seen to bringing in those which were, at the moment, most important. Core members of the Inquisition, of the inner circle. Men and women she had either personally recruited or at least now, so many months later, felt a personal responsibility towards. Clearly it did not take finesse in manipulation to achieve some results. Simply a disregard for justice and collateral damage.

"But even after all this, they released you. As much as any of us are 'released.'"

"You don't get it, do you? If they just wanted caged fighters to let out into the arenas..."

It was hard to explain the concept of reality vids to someone for whom mass communication probably amounted to someone manually sticking flies up around town, or riding a horse from place to place and shouting. Shepard sighed and ran a hand through her hair, probably not for the last time that day.

"We're entertainment. Part of that is showing that they have power over us-- that we're declawed, like a pet tiger or something. We can walk around inside the cage, but if you put even one toe out of line, they'll cut it off. Being well fed and reasonably well cared for between arenas doesn't change the fact that we've got a--" Not a gun, she wouldn't know what a gun was, not yet anyways. Maybe they could find a peacekeeper and use him as an educational tool, "...An axe over our heads at all time. If that much is all it takes to satisfy your definition of liberty, Seeker, I really don't know how to help you."

"And you do not understand me."

The coffee was probably not going to be drunk. It was a fine gesture, but Cassandra was not in the mood for soothing sips. Her tone turned sharp in her first bit of reply, but lowered to the same, clipped words she had been using for most of their conversation after.

"This is not liberty. This is not justice. Rather it is a great deal of effort and expense to prove a point to the crowd. The sheer amount of energy they are willing to put into one so clearly against them..."

Gave her hope. Not because it meant she could be pampered and cared for or whatever madness would be required to feel anything but loathing for this world. But because ones that had to so frequently show their power were often those the least secure in it. Strange as this world may be, she had to focus on what could be done rather than how stacked against them everything was.

"Is of interest. That is the extent of my opinion for now."

Of interest, she said. And something ticked over in Jane's mind. She did not cock her head or smile, but she did settle a little more deeply into her elbows. They could not speak with real freedom. Shepard couldn't tell her that Snow was dying, or the financial worries of the Capitol, couldn't explain the layout of the sewers or the history of District Thirteen. Couldn't even admit knowledge of half those things, without inviting death.

But she got it. They weren't friends yet-- hell, they might never be friends. But it was a feeling very like to the realization that someone was at your flank, the settling in of a rhythm. The recognition of a kindred spirit.

"I stand corrected."

She studied Sherpard's expression for a short moment, then gave a nod. Very well. It was hardly the dramatic declaration of the Inquisition reformed, but it was a start. It was difficult to know exactly what many of the Tributes were made of, how many had been broken down and would prove more hindrance than useful ally, but Cassandra had faith this woman would never stand among that number. The more of that she could find, the better.

"Good. Now. Is there anything of actual use within this city, or does it exist more for decoration?"

I wish I could tell you there is, but if there are defenses here, they're not the kind of thing a Tribute should know about," Which was about as clear a yes as Shepard could get, "If you're looking for friends, though, I think I can confidently recommend a few people. I do have my own squad here."

She gives a faint smirk, storing the information away. Communicating in this world was going to be an interesting challenge, but at least there seemed to be an abundance of information to be found.

"Members of your Alliance? Hm, they certainly enjoy kidnapping in bulk. Was your world in some form of mortal peril at the time of your departure, by chance?"

"My world and a few others. You got the same problem?" Her smile was the ghost of a smirk. The Reapers were a hard act to follow, nothing was impossible, "But no, they're not Alliance-- They work for me."

There was some slight emphasis on the last syllable. More than one of her people, properly enlisted or otherwise, had made that distinction clear. It was only right that she repay that humbling loyalty in kind.

"A few of them are here-- Mordin Solus, Garrus Vakarian, and Thane Krios. I've got a few other allies, but I'd trust those three first. You might try a Captain Rogers if you're looking for someone else to talk to, but I'd be careful about that," She thought about Rogers' speech, about the gore on the ice, and Barnes' unflattering frown, "He means well. But he takes big risks for his ideals, and that's dangerous. Plus, the Capitol has their eye on 'im."

Much like they should have their eye on her, if for different reasons.

"Yes. Impending destruction from an ancient enemy reborn. Or so it was when I was taken."

Cassandra gave a small nod at the clarification of working for her easily enough. While technically all of the inner circle were members of the Inquisition, people following the Inquisitor over owing particular allegiance to the organization were not uncommon.

"But I've met Vakarian," and attempted to hit him with a sword, cementing the acquaintance. "If the rest of your people are as solid, you've chosen well."

"Not all of them, but I'd trust each and every one of my crew with my life and my mission," The highest of praise, coming from Shepard, "So should you, if it comes to that. They're the best there is at what they do."

She would stand by that, if it came to a test. Jane had neither god nor religion, but her faith was absolute-- in people, both hers, and in general, and in herself.

"We happen to know a few things about 'ancient enemies' and how to fight them."

"Surely together we can find victory against new enemies, as well."

Forming allies for the arena was apparently a cause she was meant to be spending her time on, so Cassandra had no real concern making such a clear statement. Ancient evils, new governments, it was all the same. Obstacles to be destroyed on the path of service to the greater good.

"If you're suggesting some kind of arrangement for the arenas, come out and say it," Shepard downed the lukewarm sugar-sludge in her cup at a gulp. The bottom had settled somewhat, and it was almost enough that the coffee required chewing, "If it's something else, I can't help you. I just got done healing up after the last time, and torture isn't as fun as it looks, believe me."

She was very proud of herself, and how easy it all sounded coming out of her. Sarcastic and flippant and easy, like a vid-star. It sounded good, and it felt like Thresher venom in her throat; or maybe that was just the coffee.

"What else is there to discuss? We have been brought here for only one purpose. Or so I have been told."

Cassandra firmly looked out the window, viewing the city beyond, and it does a great deal for her urge to bite her own tongue off. I mean to kill them all would hardly suit for their spymasters to hear. No matter how terribly satisfying it would be to say it out-loud. She had had some time to consider it, and if lying was the first step in freedom, than surely the Maker would allow her later penance. If she could stomach the act long enough to reach such freedom.

"Well," She folded her arms and considered it. Then sighed.

"The morning of the arena, they'll wake you up early. You'll be dressed in something stupid, and it likely won't be much use beyond carrying a theme," As she spoke, Shepard arranged the sugar packets into a ring, "They'll take you to the arena, it might mean a few hours travel, then they'll put you in a little room. You'll receive an injection-- don't fight it, it's the tracker. They need it to know if you're alive or dead. Then you'll be lifted onto a platform, in font of the cornucopia."

She set the salt-shaker down at the center of the ring to stand in for her fictional cornucopia.

"There'll be supplies. You can run for them if you want, and there's a big advantage there, but anyone who sticks around to pick something up is making a target of themselves. More deaths happen there than at any other time," She picked up one of the paper and sugar 'tributes' and held it out to Cassandra, "There are usually around a hundred Tributes. If you want to win, you need to be the last one standing. But let me tell you, winning won't necessarily get you free of the arenas. And there are kids in there; children. So if you're going to start killing tributes, you need to focus on given them a clean death. Don't be an asshole if you can afford not to be."

Not like her, like poor Beth choking to death on her blood and bile because of the awkwardness of her fall. That one was on Shepard, that sin was a black mark-- she'd have to see it repaired.

"If you can survive the Cornucopia, and if you have something to offer me or my crew, and if you're not going to be targeting children, we can talk. But that's all in the future. There's no telling what could happen between now and then."

"Then we shall speak again before the 'arena' beings," and even now, there are audible quotation marks around that title. "But if we have not proven to be friends before this event, then there is little time to negotiate once battle has begun."

She understands the need to see if an ally is able to actually live up to promises, she does. But she has little time to spend leaping through hoops and proving herself, particularly not when there is no certain end to the number of them. Arena, this nation. Only time could tell where each group stood in relation towards them. As for targeting children, it is dishonorable enough of an accusation that she cannot waste time on it. If that was the opinion the other woman had gain of her...well, so be it.

"You might be surprised. There's a lot of time in two months to talk."

There had been shorter arenas, and very rarely longer, but Shepard was under no illusions about the value of either victory or survival. Unlike many, she had an advantage in that regard: she had a purpose in fighting the arenas. A reason to survive, and a point beyond which she no longer had to.

Just one more thing Cassandra Pentaghast would likely never know.

"But we'll be in contact. If you can't get ahold of me, talk to my people or ask around. I've been here for a while, people know me by now."

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alwaysshielded - 2015-01-16 02:14 (UTC) - Expand

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