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]

[BETRAYAL, APPARENTLY --]

Cassandra glances over at Erin at that whisper, just enough to make it clear she's heard.

"That's the Sun Tree," she says softly. "It's been here since before Whitestone was built. Tradition says it was planted by Pelor himself."

Anders fucked that up too!!

[crushed_pearls]

"...There, then," Erin decides firmly. "I'll leave my offering there, for him. I still wouldn't mind seeing the temple but the sun is high and I can hear the waking land - where better?"

[not_the_last]

That gets a small smile from Cassandra -- and also, perhaps less noticeably, a tiny nod of approval from the bodyguard in the corner of the seat. "It's not an uncommon practice, for less formal offerings. Do you know what you're leaving for him?"

The carriage rattles down the road; pretty shortly they're passing the town's first houses, with their distinctive sloped roofs reminiscent of the keels of ships.

[crushed_pearls]

"I'm still not exactly sure what you get a god to say thanks, but yeah, I've got an idea." Face still absolutely pressed to the window, it's so worth having eyes for this.

In a much softer voice: "Sleeping off the stress of finding you in trouble has introduced the new and exciting existential stress of realizing you weren't like...exaggerating. If the gods of my world exist and do things they're all big fans of plausible deniability. Feels like I'm taking an exam now."

[not_the_last]

"I'm not the best person to talk to about gods," she says, likewise softly, "but ... apparently I've told you something?"

In that future time, in which they're together, and in which Erin cares for her enough to need time to recover from finding her in trouble. Cassandra doesn't know what to call the feeling that idea gives her, but it's ... a lot.

[crushed_pearls]

"Yeah. I don't want to repeat the conversation because I'll just get mad about bullshit from my world but you said...you said your gods help people. And you were so confused that mine just don't."

[not_the_last]

"Sometimes."

It comes out as a whisper, and there's a faint stinging gleam in her eyes; her hands fold together tightly in her lap, holding very still.

(Erin has known Cassandra long enough to recognize these signs: some intense emotion, good or bad, is being held back.)

"They don't always help. But sometimes."

The carriage rounds a bend in the street, and before them is Dawnfather Square and the massive trunk of the Sun Tree.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin turns and gently, so gently, takes Cass's hand in her own.

"...He seems to be in a chatty mood," Erin murmurs softly. "Can't hurt to ask him what the deal is, could it?"

[not_the_last]

"I've always been taught that it never hurts to ask the gods anything."

She looks down at Erin's hand, and her fingers lightly close around it.

[crushed_pearls]

"Now might be the time," Erin murmurs. "I'll be a little busy for a bit with the offering. And...well, I did just remind the old man that you're the protector of his sacred city. Let's go say our prayers, yeah?"

[not_the_last]

She smiles. "Let's."

The carriage pulls up; the bodyguard hops out first, and holds up a hand to assist Cassandra in stepping down, getting a quiet "Thank you, Bell" in response. They hesitate for a moment before offering the same assistance to Erin.

Above them, around them, countless leaves rustle and murmur. Sunlight filters down through them, a haze of green and gold, as they approach the massive trunk of the Sun Tree.

[crushed_pearls]

For maybe the first time since getting here, Erin takes her attention entirely away from Cass; her heart is racing a mile a minute, nervous and unsure, feeling strangely like she's about to talk to someone who, for once in her life, has the actual right to judge her.

You can fit so much tattered Catholicism in this girl.

As she approaches the Sun Tree, Erin takes a battered velvet coinpurse from her belt. It turns out Erin is quite bad at praying in her head; she has no idea, again, that she's talking out loud.

"...Me again, Pelor. You really run a nice Spring around these parts, don't you? I haven't felt her in...awhile, and it's...fuck. Anyway. You really helped back there, and I do appreciate it. I can be kinda...a bitch...but I do pay what's owing, and, you helped Cass, and that's the world to me. I'm gonna leave this here for you, knowing it's not coming back."

Erin squats down, and nestles the coinpurse against the tree. She rests her head against it, closing her temporary eyes. "It's not much, in the grand scheme of things. Look at it one way and it's just a trinket whose coins are as worthless here as the place where I got it. But a friend of mine in the god business looked at it a different way, as the first herald of my new legend, a sign I'm blooming anew after the long winter of myself. I'm very fond of it. Please take good care of the bag, and it'll find some way to take care of you."

Above Erin, all unseen by her, the Sun Tree's branches are budding as her mighty Wyrd and resplendent Mantle try to show the world that she is the beloved of Spring.

[not_the_last]

It isn't just the Sun Tree: the grass, the other flowers and shrubs around the square, all the plants in the area are stretching upward, brightening into soft pale green or brighter blossoms, pink and purple and red and blazing gold. But it's the Sun Tree above all, putting out new leaves and petals together.

The square isn't crowded this morning, but there are townspeople about, and a few shouts and gasps of wonder rise here and there. This isn't the first time they've seen such a thing -- owing to the last year's work done by Keyleth of the Air Ashari, who used druid magic to help revive the blighted country after the fall of the Briarwoods -- but a wondrous thing that happens twice doesn't become any less wondrous.

(Even if it's weird that it happened twice.)

Spring isn't the sole province of any one god in the pantheon of Exandria. Some would identify it more closely with Melora, the Wildmother, whose holy day is the peak of the season; others consider it the season of Corellon the Arch-Heart; still others might associate it more metaphorically, in terms of renewal and restoration, with Sarenrae the Everlight. But in Whitestone, many think of Spring primarily if not solely as the return of the Sun.

Cassandra stands a few paces back, looking up into the dazzle of light through the still more glorious branches of the Sun Tree, wholly unaware of the tears trickling down her cheeks.

[crushed_pearls]

The noise does get Erin's attention, but she's not stopping her prayer halfway through. When she does turn, Erin only has eyes for Cass, who is -

Crying??

"Lo -" whoa, swerve, "Lady Cassandra? Something wrong?"

[not_the_last]

"Oh --" She blinks, smiles, wipes her eyes. "I shouldn't have been looking right into the sunbeams for so long. I'm fine. Are ... are you well?"

Across the square, people are still murmuring. The coachman and Bell the bodyguard are staring rather; the former has a hand to his brow, in a way that suggests he's just completed sketching a holy sign.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's gaze shifts very slowly to the townspeople.

And then baaaaaaack to Cass. "Uhhh...am I? It looks like I'm bothering the citizens."

[not_the_last]

"I don't think bothering is the word --" She gives a tiny laugh, of disbelief and wonder. "Do you truly not know what just happened?"

And she gestures at the square, in riotous bloom.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin looks around. There's a very clear 'what?' expression on her face that is then answered by her Mantle playfully sparking, leaving trailing amaranths made from smoke. Erin's eyes widen. "It's - listen, this isn't a divine sign, it's Spring, I'm sworn to her and I've been stuck in an endless Summer for months so she's just really excited to see me -"

Local woman not helping her case.

[not_the_last]

"Oh," and her voice sounds almost light enough to be taking that at face value, "is that it, then? I see."

A beat.

"You must understand how it looks though."

[crushed_pearls]

"I knowww," Erin whines.

(If we get fucking sainted here I'm never letting us live it down.)

Erin steps in close to Cass, her voice lowering to that particular murmur known best to spies, thieves, and choir students. "You said anything in your power, right? Give me a day on the town. I want to see your home, eat Whitestone cuisine and get drunk on its booze, see its beauty for myself, and then when the coast is clear, send me back to that chamber. You'll be safe, and I'll go home."

[not_the_last]

Cassandra blinks. "That hardly seems like sufficient reward, but ... if that's what you want, then yes. Granted. I'll show you everything."

Bell clears their throat and straightens up slightly, shoulders squaring.

"... Ongoing events permitting," Cassandra adds, with an air of acknowledgment. "I may be called upon rather suddenly."

[crushed_pearls]

"My lady, what I want is not in your power to give, or mine to cause. So if I can't have it, then the greatest gift you could ever give me is to let me see you love your home."

A shuddering breath. Erin takes a step back with a shy smile, feeling more bare than if she were naked in the square.

[not_the_last]

The look Cassandra gives to that is perhaps best expressed as trying not to stare; her eyes are wide in a way that looks almost defenseless, a faint flush coming to her cheeks.

(An unwanted calculation is happening behind that look, and returns the result: the future me, the one she knows and -- and feels for, has not been able or willing to bring her here. she does not expect this to change.)

"I," she has to swallow, "I am glad to be able to offer it, then."

Summary go?

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's expression melts, and she offers out her hand. "I'm not even trying to flirt and it seems like it's happening anyway. You're always so cute when that happens, but..." A half-smile, crooked but genuine. "I promise I'll behave, Cass."

[not_the_last]

She takes the promise as given, and tries not to think too hard about the unbidden thought. And smiles back. "Then shall we?"

They do. The carriage takes them through the streets to see what sights there are: the major temples to the Dawnfather and the Lawbearer, the minor shrines to the Matron of Ravens and the Everlight, the old manor houses of the city's minor nobles, the taverns built or refurbished in the past year. Lunch happens at one of those taverns, a place called the Tipsy Quorum: a savory stew accompanied by cheese-and-onion pastries, ale and cider constantly replenished by a pair of servers, a buzz of tense but optimistic chatter through the common room. (Most of the others are sneaking peeks at Erin, curious and fascinated.)

A ride to follow, around a section of the city walls with a beautiful view of the thriving farms outside it and the deep Parchwood Timberlands beyond. Then back up an avenue of the city with rows of newly built houses, and finally a stop at a bakery: The Slayer's Cake, says the fresh-painted sign above its door. Cassandra insists on purchasing a box of assorted pastries, including two of the place's signature Bear Claws.

It's just as they're emerging with their treats that a horseman comes galloping down the road toward them, in the livery of the castle, with news: Lord Percival and his allies of Vox Machina have triumphed, and the threat of the Whispered One is defeated for good and all.