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 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.
no subject
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."
no subject
Two months. Cassandra scowled at her coffee for a moment as she digested that idea. Possibly it was not entirely accurate, but two months before they could even begin to move to the second step of a plan...
Bah. She stood from the table, offering a sharp nod to Shepard. The information was helpful, the alliance promising. But she very dearly needed to stab something, and while she supposed justification could be argued she knew there would be no justice in that target being some simple bar keep.
"Thank you. I am...certain we will have another such talk shortly."