come_sailaway | it's a war in there [March OTA, including memshare]

Who: Cassandra de Rolo & those visiting her memories / OTA
When: March
Where: Around the Serena Eterna; also Whitestone, at various points in the past
What: Things are beginning to crack
Warnings: Game-typical angst; in memshares, murder, torture, vampirism, mindfuckery both magical and mundane, and potentially noncon/dubcon; other warnings to be added in reply headers as needed

A. you're just like them, you're unprepared

Cassandra's noticed the cracks, of course. Before she brushes against one, they seem alarming and inexplicable; are they a trick, a trap, a sign that this whole little artificial plane is starting to come apart?

(The thought she barely lets herself contemplate: a way out?)

After her first few encounters with them, the nature of them seems more apparent -- although there's no guarantee they aren't also any of her previous thoughts. The first time her own memories double on her, with faces she knows from here appearing in them, she locks herself in her cabin's bathroom and curls up on the floor of the shower, arms wrapped around her knees, struggling not to begin screaming for fear that she might never stop.

[This prompt is for interacting with Cassandra in the present setting! Feel free to run into her anywhere on board, either before or after memshares begin, or PM/ping me on discord to discuss a more specific prompt.]

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B. cause you don't know the terrain

Several cracks about the ship, as it turns out, lead to a world called Exandria and a little city-state called Whitestone. Those who tumble into them will encounter a younger Cassandra at some point in her past.

[Specific pre-discussed prompts are below! If you would like a different one, see the plotting post here or PM/ping me to discuss.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

To her, their state of dress still feels levels above her. Worlds apart, even. But that's compared to the person that Fio once was. She has to mentally remind herself that her position being lowest of the caste holds no meaning here.

Shoulders tense up as the other girl addresses her and she no longer feels that she can attempt slipping away easily. Fio takes a step forward away from the door and though she has a friendly smile, she's clearly nervous.

"Hello. I came in just now," she answers shakily, with a small shrug of her shoulders. "My name's Fio. What's yours?"

"Cassandra." She rearranges herself on the fur rug, tucking her legs under her and smoothing down her skirt. "Do you want to play? My sister promised to play with me but she's busy. And I could play by myself but that's not as much fun."

Her eyes widen briefly. So this is Cassandra's memory. Knowing the one in present time, she knows she shouldn't need to be on her toes. She attempts to relax her shoulders and steps closer with a smile.

"Oh... um... sure! What do you want to play? Do you have a favorite game?"

If little Cassandra notices that Fio has recognized her name, she doesn't think anything of it; she's used to people in the castle knowing her name.

"We could play swords?" she offers. "Or dolls. Or dolls with swords? They could be adventurers on a quest."

"Dolls with swords sounds like fun! You don't mind if I play with your toys?" Best to politely ask first.

Her arms are empty. Sadly, her teddy bear didn't slip in through the rift with Fio this time. She's only ever played with dolls with Ava or on her own. Not so much with other children.

"Of course not! Specially not if you're playing with me, that'd be really mean if I didn't let you."

She bounces up and makes for the toy chest, and starts rummaging. A couple of rag dolls come out first, yarn hair flopping as Cassandra deposits them on the floor; then a jointed wooden doll, a cloth doll with a ceramic face and hands, a little wooden horse on wheels. Finally she comes out with a large cloth sack, turns around, and plops back to the floor with it settled in her lap.

"This is the scrap bag," she confides. "For costumes and things, so we can dress them. I've only got sticks for swords though, cause Mama says I'm too little yet to have anything sharp to play with." That last is delivered in a tone of resigned annoyance.

Having to use sticks for swords doesn't bother Fio at all. And she understands how a real sword can be dangerous without the guidance of an instructor. The only sharp object that she's used is a kitchen knife, with supervision. (She's not counting the sharp pointy bits on her magical lanterns...)

Her family was poor, so she's used to having to make do with what little she had. Sometimes she had to resort to using sticks. And sometimes, she didn't have a single item to play with. What Cassandra brings out from the toy chest is far more than anything that she has ever had.

"That's okay! We'll just have to use our imagination."

Fio plops down onto the carpet, taking a seat across the other girl. She reaches over, picking up the cloth doll with a ceramic face. "Do you have any princess dresses? I think this one can be a lady knight."

With a gleeful grin, Cassandra upends the scrap bag, spilling out ... well, scraps: irregular pieces of cloth and leather in a bewildering variety of material and color and pattern, lengths of ribbon and cord and soft wire, fluffs of fleece or fur. Near the bottom of the bag are a few actual doll-sized garments, shifts and shirts of plain undyed fabric.

"Whitney made those," she says, pointing to the garments, "but then she got bored of it. When I learn to sew I'm going to make more. But for now we can make dresses out of these! Or for a lady knight, do you want armor?"

And she goes rummaging through the scraps for leather, and for the few bits of knitted silvery fabric that they can pretend are chain mail.

"Is Whitney your sister?" Fio asks, to confirm. It seems that way, judging from the exchange she watched earlier between the two girls.

She hums thoughtfully, examining the doll she currently has in her hands. "I would like armor, please. And a dress. So she's a princess knight."

~~Just like in JRPGs.~~ That might be kind of an ill-suited fit for a knight in the real world, but that doesn't matter right now. They're using their imaginations right now.

"One of my sisters. There's two, her and Vesper. And four brothers." From her tone, this is clearly an unreasonable number of brothers for anyone to have to bear.

But then Cassandra claps her hands, happily distracted by the doll game. "A princess knight, yes! Here, which do you like best?" And she spreads out the pieces she thinks are the prettiest for a dress: a soft green silk like spring leaves, a patterned gauze in pinks and lavenders, a deep blue velvet with silver piping along one edge, a white linen with gold embroidery that's only fraying a little.

"Maybe mine can be a wizard," she ponders out loud. "Or a ... a cleric of the Dawnfather."

That's a huge family. The older version told her that she lived in a castle, where there lived a long line of lords and ladies. Not so much about how many siblings she had. Being an only child, Fio always thought it would be nice to have siblings.

It's a nice variety of dresses to choose from. Almost instantly, her eyes set upon the slightly fraying linen. Whites and golds are her usual favorite color combinations. Sometimes with black, as well.

"I would like that one, please," she says, pointing at the linen.

The Dawnfather is a name she recognizes, which Fio perks up at. "Oh! You mean Mr. Sun!"

The older version of Cassandra may not have wanted to talk about siblings who weren't there anymore, for fear of making the story sad for Fio.

This younger version, as blithely unaware of any sadness in her future as Fio is, cheerfully passes her the gold-embroidered linen and the silvery-gray knit for armor, and picks up the jointed wooden doll for her own.

And then nearly drops it, laughing at Mr. Sun. It's not mocking laughter; she's just never heard anyone refer to Pelor that way.

it's a war in there [March OTA, including memshare]

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