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]

In a thoroughly embarrassing combination of reactions, her eyes spill over at the same moment as a hitching gulp of laughter escapes her. She presses a hand briefly to her mouth and then wipes it under her eyes, smearing cool damp across her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I feel as though I've missed you, but I haven't, not until just now. I didn't remember you, until -- gods, this is so bloody confusing."

[goodweather]

Phil laughs in kind. He steps forward to take her hand in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. He’s not quite sure how to approach someone who he still very much sees as a Lady of the House, however briefly he’d been a part of it, but he wouldn’t have liked to just stand there while she wept.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry for falling into your memories like that, but I tried to make it as pleasant as possible while I was there. Not that you all made it hard. Whitestone is a lovely castle, and your family was very kind.”

[not_the_last]

She clasps his hand, and then -- feeling suddenly nine years old again, still young enough to dispense with reserve when she felt like it -- she steps closer to hug him.

It'll be a swift hug if he lets her do it, fleeting but deeply heartfelt.

[goodweather]

"Oh-ho, hey there," he chuckles as her arms wrap around him. Of course he allows it for once-little Cassandra. He's just as warm and firm as her childhood memories say he was, if a little smaller, now that she's grown.

... And he has no idea what happened after he disappeared from the House. He has no reference for the years of her life between when he showed up and as she is now, but he knows that a noble family has more loyalty to their family and their home than most, and that Cassandra is not there.

Softly: "You must miss them very much."

[not_the_last]

"I --" She looks up at him, and her expression is briefly stricken, saying as clearly as if she'd spoken the words aloud: oh. you don't know.

"Yes," is all she says aloud, subdued with old grief. "Very much indeed."

[goodweather]

His expression drops, shoulders tense with realization. Phil has a habit of reading people like an open book, a skill she may or may not be aware of, but it doesn't take someone like him to know that there's a deep, deep sadness there.

Something terrible happened. He knows better than to ask.

"... Oh, Lady Cassandra. I'm sorry."

[not_the_last]

"Forgive me," she says, "you couldn't have known, it was -- years after you were there. There was a, an attack, we were betrayed ..."

She swallows. "It's just Percy and me now."

[goodweather]

Oh.

"I see. I'll... remember them."

...

"Say, I was thinking about going to grab a coffee. Do you want to join me?"

[not_the_last]

I'll remember them. She doesn't know why that should feel so enormous, such an utter obliteration of some foundation stone of her loneliness, but there it is: someone here remembers her brothers and sisters. Her parents. Her home.

Someone here remembers her, before the Briarwoods, before she came here.

"Thank you," she says, with enough emphasis to make it clear that it's for both, even though she goes on to say, smiling: "Coffee would be lovely."