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

[not_the_last]

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.]

Comments

[ss_buttcrack]

"Is your brother down here?" He glances toward where those cries are coming from. God, he hopes that isn't her brother.

"I'll help you get him. But, we better hurry before someone finds us."

[not_the_last]

The girl nods vehemently, apparently to both of those. "Quiet," she hisses, and turns to pad down the corridor. (In the direction, yes, where the cries were coming from earlier; they've since faded.) She keeps close to the wall, moving almost silently, seeming to fade into the shadows.

Not too far ahead of them, the corridor opens up onto a broader hall, lined with barred cells on either side. The nearest cell on the left is empty, but for a heap of truly filthy matted straw on the floor; blood and worse has soaked into it, as though dead and dying bodies were piled here. If so, they've been mercifully cleared away by now.

She stops, trembling. Only a few steps further will reveal if there's anything -- or anyone -- in the next cell.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Okay," he whispers. But, she's already on the move. He's right behind her with his gun drawn. He's trying to stick to the shadows the same way she is but he can't really do it justice.

But now they are in a chamber with cells. There's evidence of use in the bloodied straw mats. Evidence of... torture? Dear God, he hopes he isn't about to find her brother in that state.

When she stops, he puts a hand gently on her shoulder and whispers, "I'll check it first, all right?"

He won't wait for an answer. He's closing the distance to the next cell, waiting to see what he'll find as soon as it's in view.

[not_the_last]

In the cell, curled into a shivering huddle in the middle of the floor, is a young boy. Older than the girl, maybe sixteen. His clothing, like hers, shows signs of having been expensive and well-made prior to having been ripped and soiled; his exposed skin is covered in bruises and cuts, and at least some of the stains on the remains of his fine linen shirt are blood. His hair is the same dark brown as the girl's, except where it's coming in shockingly white at the roots.

At Crichton's elbow, there's a tiny sharp intake of breath -- the girl hasn't waited for him to check the cell first, and now she steps forward to clutch at one of the iron bars with a shaking hand. "Percy," she whispers.

The boy lifts his head unsteadily, blinking; he's wearing a pair of old-fashioned spectacles, bent and askew on his face, and the dim light in here reflects off a star-fracture on one lens. "C-Cassandra?"

[ss_buttcrack]

Dammit! He thought he told her to wait. He's opening his mouth to tell her to get back again when... hold on...Cassandra?? This is... and that makes him her brother. Shit. He's so beaten and bloody. Is he going to be able to stand or...?

"That's your brother, isn't it?" Crichton says, without really needing to know the answer. "Okay, Cassandra? Stand back for me. I'm gonna get him out of there but I need to you get clear."

To Percy, he says, "Scoot to the side and get as flat against the wall as you can. This is going to be loud." He's bringing his gun up, planning to shoot out the lock.

[not_the_last]

Percy stares, then starts trying to drag himself over to the side -- but Cassandra hisses "No!" as soon as Crichton says going to be loud. "You don't have to break it."

And she brings up from under her robe an iron ring almost the size of her wrist, with a twist of ragged fabric hanging from it -- or rather, wrapped around a cluster of objects hanging from it. The motion of her arm shows that the sleeve of her dress under the robe is torn; a closer look will show that it's the same fabric that's wrapped around what are almost certainly the keys to the dungeon cells.

[ss_buttcrack]

"I love a girl who comes prepared." How clever! She even wrapped them so they wouldn't jangle. Why has he never thought of that...?

"Go ahead. I'll watch your back while you open the door."

[not_the_last]

She looks from him to Percy and back, and nods, swallowing visibly. Carefully she unwraps the first key and tries it in the door, making a tiny frustrated noise when it doesn't work and then moving on to the next key.

When the third key doesn't work, the noise she makes is closer to a whimper. Percy is standing by now, gripping the bars, his bruised arms shaking. "It's all right," he whispers, "Cass, keep trying --"

The fourth key turns, and Cassandra very nearly bursts into tears.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Shh," Crichton reminds them. He knows that feeling of tension breaking, and he's made those sounds more than once, but they do still need to be careful here.

"Percy," he whispers, "can you walk out of here on your own? If you can't, I'll carry you."

[not_the_last]

"I can," he whispers back hoarsely, "I can walk --" And he does, although he needs to lean on a crossbar for a few steps until he's out of the cell, and he limps a little on bare feet before seeming to find his footing.

Cassandra's managed to regain some control, but at the cost of an even higher ratcheting-up of tension. "Come on, we have to go," she pleads in a near-frantic whisper, reaching to seize Percy's hand and tug him along.

[ss_buttcrack]

Crichton is torn between letting him try to preserve his dignity, and the desperate desire to spare him the limping pain of doing all of this on bare feet after obviously having been beaten and likely tortured. The situation, however, might be about to force his hand.

"That tunnel you came out of," he asks Cassandra, does it lead out of here?

[not_the_last]

She shakes her head. "There's a different one. This way."

The dungeons aren't extensive; there's only another corridor and another room, this one apparently in use for storage rather than imprisoning anyone, before she finds the loose stone in the wall that opens the second hidden door. Percy's walking more easily by that time, but still clearly weak and in pain.

"Over here," she starts, and then catches her breath in a little gasp and freezes.

A faint clanking thud, and another. The sound of armored footfalls, very close by.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Open it," Crichton hisses at her. "Hurry. I'll hold them off. You and your brother get in there and run. Don't wait for me." He's got his gun out and he's facing the direction of those footfalls. "Go."

[not_the_last]

Cassandra stares up at him in frozen horror for a beat, then shuts her trembling mouth and jerks her head in a nod, and pushes on the loose stone. As before, an irregular section of wall shifts inward, revealing a dark passageway; this one seems to be more burrowed than built, hollowed through raw earth and stone.

Percy puts a hand up to the inner wall, twists to look over his shoulder. "Thank you," he breathes fervently, "whoever you are --"

And they're away, in a stumbling run down the passage, as the wall swings shut again.

The footfalls are closer, and closer, and two figures in shabby leather and chain mail round the corner -- one a tall and lanky human, one too short and barrel-chested and broad-shouldered to be anything but a dwarf. Two pairs of eyes go wide behind the slits in their helmets; two pairs of hands dive for the blades at their belts.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Thank me later," he says, urging her to get going with a wave of his hand.

These two guards don't know what hit them. Before they can even get their swords clear of the scabbard, Crichton has aimed a shot squarely at each of their chests. Plunk. Plunk. The plasma burns right through their armor, dropping them both instantly. He doesn't stick around to see if more are coming behind. He darts down the passage after those two kids, shoving the way closed behind him.

[not_the_last]

There's almost no light in here, even less once Crichton shuts the door into the dungeon. Fortunately, there's only one path, and a sharp ear will pick out the sounds of two sets of footfalls hurrying ahead of him; one still slightly dragging, but managing to move fast enough.

It won't be too difficult to catch up with them, but once he gets close, the sound of their movement goes utterly silent.

[ss_buttcrack]

Jeez, it's so dark he can't hardly see past his nose. Is this what Arthur deals with all the time? The good news is the sounds of them up ahead are easy enough to follow. Until they suddenly go silent.

"It's me," he whispers to them. "I took care of the guards. Don't stop now; we need to keep going."

[not_the_last]

A tiny cold hand slips into his in the darkness.

"Okay," Cassandra whispers back. "We're almost to the end, can you feel the draft?" And yes, there's a definite current of moving air coming from up ahead.

Less than a minute later, they reach the tunnel's end and find the trigger stone, and a section of stone cracks open and swings inward. The stifling stink of smoke and worse from the dungeon has followed them this far; the rush of air that greets them is immeasurably fresher, and colder, and smells of snow.

"Go," says Percy, almost choking out the word, and they lurch forward into a run, heading for the treeline.

They've nearly made it before the first shouts start, and then the first arrows.

[ss_buttcrack]

He's surprised at how easily she takes his hand, but he's glad for it.

A draft? He concentrates a moment. "Yeah. I can feel that. I still don't know how you knew this was here?"

Not really the time, he knows, but he can't help asking. He'll let the subject drop, however, when the fresh air hits their faces at last. That sweet air fills his lungs as he takes in a huge appreciative breath. Then, they are off, heading for the tree lines.

But it just couldn't be a clean getaway, could it? Arrows start flying from behind. Crichton makes a conscious choice in that moment. He positions himself directly behind Cassandra, so if any land, they'll be in his back and not hers.

[not_the_last]

They run, Percy's feet leaving flecks and droplets of blood, arrows whining around them. Their pursuers aren't close enough to aim well, but they're bound to get lucky if given enough time with a clear shot at them.

The distance also means that by the time the arrows reach them, they've slowed somewhat; still going fast enough to carry some force, but not nearly as much as they would at close range.

Which means that the arrow that would have punched through Cassandra's thin layers of fabric and into her shoulder, and the second arrow that would have done the same to her side ... instead bounce off Crichton's heavy leather and fall to the ground, doing him no damage beyond a light bruise.

And then the three of them are in among the trees, crashing through underbrush, nowhere near safety but at least having gained some cover.

[ss_buttcrack]

He winces at the hits, but he doesn't slow down. He's just lucky none of them clocked him in the head. He can worry about bruises later.

Skidding into the tree-line, he has to slow to catch his breath a moment. He's not used to running in the cold like this. It burns his lungs with each new pull of air.

"We have to find some shelter. Is there somewhere we can go?"

[not_the_last]

"The town," Cassandra pants, struggling to keep moving, "they, they'd hide us --"

"Not there." Percy's voice is still hoarse, and it rasps painfully when he raises it over his little sister's. "They'll find us, and they will punish whoever they find us with. We can't." He braces against a tree, and crouches to scoop up some untrodden snow, and swallows it down with a convulsive gulp before he starts moving again. "Gods, that's better ..."

"Then where?" Cassandra demands, her voice rising with a touch of panic.

"... Downriver." Percy looks from her to Crichton, unconsciously appealing to the adult to make the decision once he's made his case. "If we can find a deadfall, something we could push into the river for a raft, to stay afloat -- we'll move faster than they can, they won't expect it --"

[ss_buttcrack]

"The river idea is good in theory," Crichton says, "But you're barefoot in this snow. If any of us gets wet out here we'll risk freezing. You're already hurt and weak. I don't know how far you can make it like this."

He hates making decisions like these. Neither option is without flaws.

"I have a weapon that can take them on if they find us. I say we go to the town and find a shed to hide in or a barn out of the way. We don't have to tell anyone we're there, so they don't have to lie if they're asked. It might buy us enough time to get some shoes, and real coats for you both."

[not_the_last]

Brother and sister look at each other, and back at Crichton. Percy swallows and nods. "Outside of town," he says by way of compromise. "There's, there are farms and the like, if we go south around the walls."

She nods, starting to shiver now that they're standing still -- both with cold and with delayed reaction.

[ss_buttcrack]

"Great. That'll work for now. Let's go." They don't have a second to waste out here. He takes point now, with his gun still drawn, just in case they run into more guards.

"We'll find a barn to hunker down in and rest. We can make our next move in the cover of the night." Said like someone who has definitely done this before.