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

[not_the_last]

"A hole between dimensions?" His eyes go round. "You came from another plane? Like the Feywild?"

Cassandra glances over her shoulder, listening, and waits to hear Erin's response.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's poker face doesn't survive the word 'Feywild'; her expression becomes a mask of terror that is rapidly converting to rage in self-defense, and Erin has to close her eyes and take in a deep breath as she reminds herself that this is somewhere else, They're not here, that's not what this young man is talking about.

In a low and even tone: "No. Not like the fairest of lands. It's a pocket, really, not very big at all. Whitestone the city is bigger, let alone Whitestone the demense."

[not_the_last]

He shies back at the look on her face, missing a step and quickly recovering.

"You were only there to kill her, then," says Cassandra -- facing forward this time, ahead of Erin and Kynan. "Not to aid ... any of us?"

[crushed_pearls]

"I'm here to help you, Cass. Killing Delilah was an enjoyable bonus. Not as enthused about it seemingly being a repeatable bonus, but I take my wins where I find them." The careful questions and mistrust hurt on an irrational level; of course this Cass is still being careful, she doesn't know Erin and her life is in active danger.

Still...

[not_the_last]

They've nearly reached the top of the stairs. Cassandra, a few steps higher, turns to look into Erin's face -- for once at eye level.

Softly: "Who are you?"

[crushed_pearls]

Erin sighs. To say or to not...

She settles on something in the middle. "If you ask again, I'll tell you."

An offer.

A threat.

[not_the_last]

There's a long pause. Cassandra's eyes flick past Erin, very briefly, to where Kynan is standing behind her with one hand on the butt of his pistol -- not drawing, but ready to draw.

"I hope so," she says finally, and makes a sweeping gesture to invite Erin to continue down the hall with her.

The sitting room, near her bedchamber but not directly connected, isn't empty when they arrive; a young woman is building up the fire, and lights a couple of lamps before she slips out, brightening the room with a warm glow. It's beautifully furnished, mostly in shades of green and warm brown, with a couple of delicate armchairs and one soft-looking couch.

[crushed_pearls]

"...Yeah, y'all definitely ain't rolling out the pearl-studded hammocks," Erin murmurs to herself. She hasn't been invited to sit, and after that interaction she doesn't want to assume; presumably the coffee will be here soon.

Erin sighs. Cass's answer hadn't been a no, not that she expected to get an outright refusal. "If you intend on asking that question again, you're going to want reasonable privacy."

[not_the_last]

"Oh, yes," she agrees, mildly. "The coffee should be here quite soon; won't you sit down?"

And indeed, it isn't more than another minute or two before the coffee arrives in the hands of a man in the gray castle livery: a large pot of it on a tray with three mugs, more substantial than delicate, along with a sugar bowl and a smaller jug of cream. And a second tray, borne by a younger servant, on which the only thing visible is a linen tea towel -- clearly covering a tall heap of something, and emitting a strong scent of fresh baked goods.

The offerings are deposited on a low central table, the two servants bow themselves out of the room, and Cassandra leans forward to pour. Perhaps unexpectedly, the first mug -- no sugar or cream added -- goes to Kynan, who receives it with a murmur of thanks and takes up a position by the door.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin takes a seat on the couch, hunching forward with her elbows on her knees. The guard getting the first mug does surprise her, but when on reflection she realizes she shouldn't be surprised a look of fond affection steals over Erin's face that she doesn't realize is there.

Unborn babes could tell she's in love.

"Your home is very beautiful," Erin murmurs. "It would have been worth the trip just to see it."

[not_the_last]

Cassandra looks up from the coffee she's pouring, and hesitates a moment at the look on Erin's face. Only a moment, and then she's setting down the coffeepot and handing over the mug, with a nod at the sugarbowl.

"How kind of you to say so," she answers, smiling, taking her own mug and beginning to pour again. "I do hope there will be opportunity to show you the rest of it. The grounds are much nicer to see by daylight."

[crushed_pearls]

"It'll be worth keeping eyes up for the day," Erin agrees.

(Hey you realize without context that's insane, right?)

A brief look of 'oh right' crosses Erin's face. "...I don't uh. Naturally. Have any, anymore, and there's no free lunch even with magic. Hence the blindfold, usually."

[not_the_last]

It takes Cassandra a moment -- she'd been parsing keeping eyes up as staying awake, and only realizes after a moment that the woman's blindfold was covering an absence of eyes. "I see," she says, gives a faint internal wince at the unconscious choice of words, and decides that trying to walk it back would only make it worse.

"As you said earlier, though," she continues, setting down the coffeepot and picking up the jug of cream, "reasonable privacy. Which I believe we now have. Kynan," turning in his direction, "I trust I can rely upon your discretion?"

"Completely, my lady," he says firmly.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin sighs heavily. Her attention isn't on the coffee despite realizing that this is probably her cup.

Her gaze goes to Kynan first. "You're gonna want to not hear this, from experience. You may want to cover your ears."

Erin gives him long enough to call his shot on that before giving Cass her full attention. "As I said, my name is Erin Peters. From my perspective we met in that pocket dimension at the height of last fall, with it being the start of spring," air quotes, "'now'. We're...together, over there, and you're still deciding what that means to you and what you want, what you need. I'm blind in a lot of ways, and fell into this rift into what would be, from my perspective, your past."

"...Delilah was worse than you implied and the implication was already pretty bad."

[not_the_last]

Kynan looks a question at Cassandra, and when she doesn't nod, he returns his attention to Erin and does not cover his ears.

Cassandra listens, and slowly her face takes on an impassive blankness as she processes what she's being told.

"You're ... from my future," she says, at length. "As well as from another dimension. Is that what you're saying?"

[crushed_pearls]

Erin nods. "Or, well, a future for you in any event. Right now we're past everything you've told me about. Based on what I interrupted...it can't have been pleasant."

Finally, Erin starts her crimes against her coffee. "I realize it's a wild claim, but I think I'd like to gently suggest that it's not important. I don't have dire warnings for you, anything I want you to do or not do. If you want me gone I can either die or return to the room I arrived in and bumblefuck my way back out. I just..."

"...Stayed, to see you safe, and see your home."

[not_the_last]

Something moves behind Cassandra's impassivity, like water stirring under the frozen surface of a river, trying to break through the ice.

"I," she says slowly, "I appreciate that. Greatly. I ... may I be frank with you? I'm having a great deal of trouble accepting what you've told me, but the fact remains that you've saved me and two other good people from probable death, and also saved my brother and his friends from a dire blow, and ... I genuinely can't work out any way for this to be part of a trap for something worse."

A long beat.

"Unless you're actually Vecna in disguise, and I can't make that make sense."

[crushed_pearls]

Erin snorts a soft laugh. "Even when I was a career villain I had better hiring standards than that prick. That said, I do shapeshift. You can return me to my true form with the touch of iron - not steel, no alloys. Iron."

[not_the_last]

Cassandra glances at Kynan, so quickly it could be missed, and then back at Erin. "Thank you for telling me. We've had trouble with shapeshifters here before. Is this form your true one?"

As though they're not listening to her, her hands are closed tightly around the coffee mug, knuckles going pale, trembling the smallest bit.

[crushed_pearls]

"Well, normally there's no eyeballs. Otherwise? Yes." Erin leans back with her coffee syrup and takes a small sip. "The wings and doorways do not get along. Cass...I know this is a lot. I was trying to avoid this conversation for a reason. I figured I'd see the town with you and then, I dunno, take on merc work until I get kicked out, just see you whenever I see you. I won't stay if you don't want me here."

[not_the_last]

She's ... shaken is the only word for it, really.

"Don't you need to go back, though?"

[crushed_pearls]

Erin shrugs her wings. "I fell into my adopted sister's memory for two years and got back shaved seconds later. I'm used to distorted time, so like...I'm not particularly worried about that aspect. Entering one door and leaving another weeks later or before I actually entered the first one used to be part of my day job. Besides..."

"...Who knows when I'll ever get another chance to see Whitestone?"

[not_the_last]

"I ..." Cassandra stares at her helplessly for a long moment, and then pulls in a shaky breath and lets it out slowly. Looks down at her coffee as though she's just remembered it's there, and takes a long drink.

"I don't know what to make of you," she says, very low. "You ... if what you're saying is true, you've known me for half a year and I've known you for barely an hour. You appear out of nowhere, you kill the most terrifying person I've ever known in a blink, you -- you get a sign from my family's god --"

Her voice tries to rise, and she drags it back down level.

"I need sleep and a clear head before I make any decision about ... what to do next, about you. But you'll stay the rest of the night?"

Cut to morning?

[crushed_pearls]

"I'll stay," Erin promises in a soft voice. She's not sure how to feel about Pelor picking up the phone for her either, but that's...a later problem. A much later problem. "...Don't feel pressured to be familiar with me. I don't expect anything, and I won't. I know I'm a stranger to you now. Just...try to take it more seriously the next time I imply you don't want to know something, yeah?"

Sure!

[not_the_last]

Cassandra meets her eyes, unflinching. "I take your meaning," she says, "and I appreciate it, but I would always rather know."

It's mostly quiet after that, the conversation limping a little and turning to smaller things, as they finish the coffee and the plate of sweet rolls. A second guard in Cassandra's livery, a tall woman with muscular arms and hair drawn back in a tight bun, comes in about an hour to relieve Kynan; shortly thereafter, a pair of housemaids show up to take Erin to a guest room. Cassandra asks them if there's any word from her brother or from Vasselheim. There doesn't seem to be.

The guest room is sparsely but comfortably furnished, with a feather bed of generous size (and no sign of pearls or hammocks anywhere). The younger of the two housemaids, who gives her name as Roslyn, tells Erin that she can come down to the kitchen for breakfast at any hour, but she's to sleep as late as she likes -- it's well past midnight by now, after all.

Cassandra herself doesn't wake until close to ten in the morning, and makes her way downstairs in a gown of soft gray wool with her hair pulled back in the hastiest of twists. She would like the chance to wake slowly, but she's already taking reports and hearing news in her corner of the dining hall.