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

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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

Nothing explodes.

The man's eyes flicker, blink, dart back and forth for a moment. He draws in a hitching breath. "What happened? Where am I?"

"Master Gilmore --" Cassandra steps up, reaching a hand out to him. "Are you all right?"

"I --" He rubs a hand across his forehead, pushing back long dark hair. "I was in my workshop, how did I ... how did you come here, Lady Cassandra? This isn't Whitestone, is it?"

Erin would blink here, IF SHE HAD -

"You get the ropes," she suggests to Cassandra. "I'll get the other one." She approaches the other hypnotized person to lift the circlet there as well.

With another moment to think, Cassandra might suggest reversing that -- but right now she's a little overwhelmed and inclined to follow her rescuer's lead. So she's untying Gilmore, beginning a quick apology and explanation, when Kaylie regains awareness with her own hands still tied.

And immediately puts her head down to ram it into the stomach of the first person she sees, which in the event is Erin.

It's an immense effort of will, but Erin just rolls with the hit instead of fighting back, allowing herself to be knocked to the floor. Her Aura sparks protectively.

"Cass," Erin says slowly. "Your friend gets that one free but if she hits me again I'm gonna break my foot off in her ass."

(Progress!)

Hush you.

The gnome girl gives her a snarling grin, wrenching at the bonds on her wrists. "Like to see y' try it, y' overgrown feather-duster --"

"Kaylie," as Cassandra steps between them, "she's not an enemy, she's here to rescue us. Let me get those off of you, please?"

A pause, a glower, and Kaylie subsides. "Right then." Frowning down at her wrists, as Cassandra starts picking apart the knots. "Thanks and all, then. How'd we get here?"

"Oh," says Gilmore, who's now gazing at Delilah's dismembered body, "I'm beginning to have a dreadful suspicion about that. I'm terribly sorry, my dear lady --" this directly to Erin -- "I don't think we've been introduced?"

There is the slow sitting up of the Erin. She tips Gilmore a half-hearted wave. "Erin Peters, witch and swordswoman, at your service. I got lucky, took Delilah out when she wasn't paying attention. Won't get lucky twice."

She picks herself up and dusts herself off. Her attention goes to Cass. "Am I wrong in guessing your brother is headed to Whitestone and not here? This seems like a place to not be."

Cassandra blinks at her. "What? No, he'll be headed here, with his friends. Or -- or wherever the Whispered One is, if we're somewhere else. They're coming to stop him."

"Ah, fuckin hell," mutters Kaylie. "And these assholes snatched us as hostages, or something like?"

"Worse. You don't really want to know." Erin sighs. "No fucking standards. All my life, surrounded by villains with no standards...anyway, here still seems like a bad place to be."

She gives Gilmore her attention. "I don't suppose you can get Cass to be not here? I'm not keen on tangling with more wizards today or ideally ever, and if we're not present, we can't be hostages."

"Certainly," he says -- and despite the tension in him, his eyes twinkle when he smiles. "It would be a poor day if I couldn't manage a teleportation ... Would Whitestone suit us all?"

"Fine with me," says Kaylie with a shrug, "if you can get me back to Ank'Harel sometime soon. Got some irons in the fire there, can't be gone too long."

"Yes," Cassandra agrees, and swallows. "Please. And -- Erin? Do you come with us, or is your work here not done?"

(She doesn't quite believe, even now, that she could be anyone's highest priority.)

"I stick with you," Erin says without hesitation. A beat. "...Though uh, if no one's wrecking the joint I might ask for an escort to the temple of Pelor. I think I owe the old boy a goat or something."

(WHAT DO YOU GIVE A GOD?)

I DON'T KNOW

That gets a snort from Kaylie, a bemused not-sure-that-was-a-joke chuckle from Gilmore, and a look of poorly concealed disquiet from Cassandra.

"I can show you to the shrine once we're certain it's safe, yes," she agrees. "You may want to talk to Keeper Yennen ... Master Gilmore, can you carry all four of us?"

"With the greatest of ease, dear lady," he smiles. "Provided we're all willing to be very friendly for just a moment. If you'll all tuck in close, please?"

Erin huddles in.

Without thinking, she offers a hand to Cass.

And without thinking much at all, she takes it.

"I don't know who sent you," she says, very low, "but -- wait," that's louder, suddenly, as she pulls back from Gilmore. "Sorry, I'm sorry, just -- one moment --"

And she runs for the heap of discarded leather armor in the corner, drops beside it and starts piling pieces haphazardly into her arms.

"Her mother's armor," Erin mutters without realizing, before racing over to assist. Carrying armor, even leather, is always awkward.

Yes, she could use the assistance; when Erin reaches over, she's trying to balance two bracers and a pauldron without dropping any of them. Her breath hitches as she realizes she's being offered help, and her whispered "Thank you" comes near catching in her throat.

Between the two of them, they can carry it all.

"Think nothing of it," Erin murmurs back, before rejoining the circle herself.

It's time. She's gonna be there in Whitestone.

She should put on eyes when she gets there.

Gilmore reaches out an encircling arm to Cassandra as she rejoins them. "Hold tight," he says, "and we're off --"

A swift mutter of something else, and a flash of white light envelops everything.

And what takes its place is a vaulted hall of pale stone with a night sky showing through tall windows, brightly lit with candles and lamps, and a good half-dozen uniformed guards starting back in alarm and reaching for weapons.

"Stand down," calls out Cassandra, "it's me. I need one of you to go up to my rooms and find Bell, see if they're safe, and another to wake up the Realmseer. I need to send some messages to my brother immediately."

In a low voice, mainly for Cass but Erin doesn't particularly care if the others hear it: "I'm gonna put some eyes on here, try not to freak out too hard. It's a bit of a whole thing."

Thankfully she killed her Mantle for stealth earlier, so the first sign that Erin has chosen to install some owl eyes is when she slips her blindfold off and pockets it, revealing them.

There's things to get done here before she can see Cass's home. Erin can wait. She has all the time in the world now; so far from the rift where she entered, her only exit is to die or get kicked out.

There's a bustle of activity as the guards recognize Cassandra and leap to follow her orders. She's only been gone about an hour and change, it turns out; since she'd just gone to bed, not enough time for anyone to notice she was missing, or to find her unconscious bodyguard Bell in her chambers.

More people are summoned and sent on a barrage of errands. The Realmseer, an old man in heavy blue robes, looks downright sour to be awakened but more sober when the situation is explained, and sends the arcane messages Cassandra gives him. Word comes back from her brother acknowledging it, and asking if Gilmore can join them in the impending final assault. In the end he goes, Kaylie is guided to a guest room for the night, and Cassandra ...

... finds herself abruptly at a loss for what to do next, blinking at the floor and swaying a little.

"You ought to get back to bed, m'lady," says the older woman who's been directing about half of her orders.

"Yes," says Cassandra blankly, then "In a moment," and she looks to Erin.

On reflex Erin opens a wing for bird hug. "We've got nowhere to be until morning at least but honestly lass, take a bit to wind down first somewhere quiet. You don't want to go to bed keyed up."

Cassandra doesn't seem to recognize the gesture as an invitation to a hug. "I," she says, "I should get you a guest room too. Something more than that, I -- you saved us, and I don't even --"

She clasps her hands together tightly, knuckles whitening, and inhales as she visibly regains some self-control. "I owe you, my House owes you, a great debt. I don't know where the world is going to be in the next few hours, but ... if it is at all within my power I will see you rewarded."

Erin waves a hand. "Don't worry about material anything, I can't take it with me whenever I get pulled back home. But for right now an escort to the guest room wouldn't go amiss..."

Erin pauses.

"...Hey uh, not to put too fine a point on it but who do you have guarding you? Not to impugn their skill or anything but I'm good to go on coffee and hate, and if I'm a betting woman that wizard is gonna be slightly pissed that I killed her."

"Someone's gone to rouse my day-shift guard," she says. "They'll be here any moment. Assuming nothing's been done to them, but since Bell was only knocked out I wouldn't expect it ... Coffee? Arla, is there any coffee brewing?"

This to the older woman, who nods. "I'll have some brought to your rooms, my lady. And to yours?", turning to Erin. "Do you take sugar?"

Erin looks for a metaphor that feudal nobles might understand. Hummingbirds might not be around - there we go.

"You know how beekeepers will make a simple syrup for the hive? That's about the level of sugar."

Arla snorts, but she's smiling. "I'll have them leave the bowl then, madam."

There's a rapid clatter of bootheels in the nearby corridor, and a young man bursts into view, tugging his uniform tunic straight as he comes to a halt. Despite said uniform, and the sword and pistol at his sides, he doesn't quite look like a professional soldier; his ash-blond hair is a little too long and shaggy, and his dark brown eyes a little too wide at the moment, fixed on Cassandra.

"My lady, you're all right?" he says in a rush. "I heard -- they said Bell was injured, and you --"

"I'm quite all right, Captain Leore," she reassures him. "Thanks to this brave woman here."

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