Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alwaysshielded) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-04 11:03 pm
alwaysshielded) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-04 11:03 pm
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!]
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!]
no subject
She was certain little knot between her brows had to be large enough a presence to reach her voice, echoing in the sheer dryness of her words as she used slightly more force than needed to kick one of his legs into place. Candles and wine indeed.
"As useful as your arcane knowledge as been, in this land you are a concern, Dorian. If we are forced to perform in this pathetic act until we find a way to return to Thedas, you must rise to the occasion. You cannot serve as a distraction for the more...humane among us."
To Cassandra's mind, sparring would serve them both because it would let Cullen know Dorian's current abilities. It would allow the commander to focus more on the task at hand within the arena than concern himself over what the mage may or may not be capable of surviving. For good or ill, knowing was ever an advantage over speculation. Should they be unable to solve their current problem in time, she could only pray the knowledge of Dorian's weaponry training would prove more comfort than concern for both her and the commander by the time they entered the arena.
no subject
"I think I can do a little better than a distraction," He complained, feigning hurt. "Just because I am not quite myself doesn't mean I'm entirely useless."
And he was willing to learn, even though it evidently meant being beaten to a pulp.
no subject
She rolled her eyes at the dramatic response ('ow'? truly, it was a pity Sera had not traveled with them. She at least could put that kind of dramatics to shame), then returned to her position in front of him. She has picked up her own spear a moment later, but for now she observed him from the front rather than striking again.
"I have every faith in your potential," and this, at least, was not stated sarcastically or with even a drop of irony. "It is a question of if you are willing to dedicate your actions towards such goals. I am no Inquisitor. If you are correct, than I doubt the one you- or I- have known will ever appear. Whether you chose to commit the same level of dedication to our group without her- or him- to woo you is dependent on you entirely."
Because Maker knew none of the Inner Circle, save Cullen and perhaps Leliana, would have joined the movement under Cassandra's persuasion alone. The Inquisitor was the unifying force. If they could remain an effective unit without such a force- or under the direction of a new, unfamiliar one- was yet to be seen.
no subject
It was the 'woo' that did it. Likely, she didn't even know what she meant - or, more realistically, didn't even know how he would hear it at all.
"I joined the Inquisition because it was the right thing to do," He said, his tone sharp, "Not because I was wooed." It stung, badly, and it had come from so far afield that he hadn't really been ready for it - for the sudden aching reminder of loss, for the implications his father had made ('Oh, so that's why you're here'), for the whispers and the jests and the taunts. For everything that had absolutely nothing to do with what Cassandra said in that moment, but came rushing at him with a raging fury, built solely upon grief and despair. Because Cassandra was right.
He would never appear.
He lunged again, before she could get the chance to, surprisingly quick and with all his force behind it.
no subject
She deflected the attack, leaving his momentum to spend itself in the void behind her, letting him stumble forward. But not without a swift strike to his shins in repayment.
"I did not intend offense."
no subject
"No. Of course you didn't. But you've never particularly understood why I stayed, so I shouldn't be surprised." It was unfair, really, and he would feel bad about saying it later, even though it was true. The Inquisitor had told him, about Cassandra's warnings about him, all those ages ago. And though he counted her a friend now, the idea that he was only bound to them through the Inquisitor--
He turned, taking a breath, and another stance again. "You - all of you- are the closest thing I currently have to a family," he said a little stiffly. "I'm not about to abandon you now."
no subject
But she will not apologize. A different woman may, but here, now, the thought truly does not cross her mind. Her misgivings were justified by her own standards, and she had acted in his best interests by offering this lesson despite them. Had she remained silent, he may well never had known her hesitations concerning his loyalties. There was little point in regretting honesty, and so she does not feel any need to demonstrate remorse.
But she had observed Dorian. Had, indeed, dedicated more time to it that was perhaps required due to her initial hesitations about the man and her Inquisitor's closeness with him. None of what she had seen gave her cause to do anything but accept his words as honesty now. Even as she returned to her defensive posture and indicated he should attempt to charge again, she did not doubt.
"If it is any consolation I-" she frowned, but did not glance away. This was a sparring match, not some conversation out in the snow where she had the luxury of glancing away from her practice dummies. "Understand. Entirely."
wrapping this up
"Then let us continue, shall we?" He asked, preparing himself. "I still have some flesh not yet bruised."
It was going to be a long day.