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Open RP Post
I am good for: |
Cade takes a few more deep breaths, then looks up slowly, face still red and sweaty from the exertion. His eyes are red too, the dried tears making them dry and itchy. Nonetheless, he gives a small smile, as though Zevran's words are the only thing he's wanted to hear for his entire life.
As quickly as he acknowledges his happiness, the pain drifts back into his consciousness and registers appropriately as the flaying he just received. "...ow," he observes, as though this concept is entirely novel, pulling a face to match it.
As quickly as he acknowledges his happiness, the pain drifts back into his consciousness and registers appropriately as the flaying he just received. "...ow," he observes, as though this concept is entirely novel, pulling a face to match it.
"Ah, there you are. You've been floating for awhile." Quite nicely too. Without missing a beat Zevran offers a skin of water- all that sweat, all those tears? It'd be easy to become dehydrated if left alone. Cade seems well enough to hold the skin on his own. "You see why I said you should take something afterward? Forty lashes, Cade, I have never done that with someone on their first time with that Cat."
Pride and warmth curl in his voice- he is proud of Cade for standing up against that sting, for finding that safe, quiet place within himself and drifting. It's magnificent.
Pride and warmth curl in his voice- he is proud of Cade for standing up against that sting, for finding that safe, quiet place within himself and drifting. It's magnificent.
Cade thanks him quietly as he takes the water, and drinks it with more gusto than he would have initially thought necessary. When he lowers it again, he looks briefly into Zevran's eyes, his own expression back to is usual worry-- he's looking for deception, someone boosting him up to get them out of their hair. But he doesn't see any, and doesn't know how to respond to that.
"..really?" he asks, his voice quiet and skeptical.
"..really?" he asks, his voice quiet and skeptical.
"Most are drifting well enough by twenty or tap out around twenty five if they have not yet begun to float. To get there or at least the edges of it- to ask for more and mean it?" He shakes his head, pulling an apple from the bag at his side, cutting it in wedges with the flick of a knife he'd had on his person. The first wedge is offered to Cade without comment, but the implication he ought to take it is there.
"So yes, really."
"So yes, really."
Cade accepts the apple when offered, pensive while Zevran speaks. He winces as he draws his arm back, the smallest movement causing his back to protest most painfully.
"Ahh," he whines, but turns it into the beginning of his next question. "the.. floating is..." He's trying to piece together what he experienced with what Zevran is telling him, and he pops the apple piece into his mouth as he considers. "...what is that?" He's never in his life felt anything like it.
"Ahh," he whines, but turns it into the beginning of his next question. "the.. floating is..." He's trying to piece together what he experienced with what Zevran is telling him, and he pops the apple piece into his mouth as he considers. "...what is that?" He's never in his life felt anything like it.
It is one of the better apples he has managed to charm from the kitchen, fresh and sweet and crisp rather than mealy and soft. Zevran cuts himself a wedge to nibble upon while he considers a coherent answer. "It is different than merely enduring pain for pain's sake. Hang me up and torture me when I know I am helpless and they mean to break me? I go somewhere that I cannot be touched. But like this? When I know a word would have me free, when I trust in who holds the lash? I go somewhere else- I drift. Everything in the world falls away. Guilt, Pain, Fear. It all no longer holds me down, I float in my skin."
Cade is silent for a time, taking in what Zevran says and considering it for what may seem like an excessive stretch of silence. He's not used to speaking much; he's used to his commentary being entirely mental, unasked for and therefore unspoken.
Finally, he appears to draw a conclusion-- or at least, he finds the thing that's been preventing him from reaching one.
"But if you enjoy it..." he says measuredly, clearly struggling with this, "...how is it punishment?"
Finally, he appears to draw a conclusion-- or at least, he finds the thing that's been preventing him from reaching one.
"But if you enjoy it..." he says measuredly, clearly struggling with this, "...how is it punishment?"
"For me it is not about punishment, when I am under the lash. It is about finding that space where there are no mistakes to be made, where all I must do is what I am told. I do it well enough when I am not drifting but there is this sense of blissful joy when I float and meet whatever challenge I am given." Another slice of apple offered to Cade, this with a kinder smile.
"People get different things out of this. For you, this was for being unattended when you were told to keep in line of sight of someone, yes? You broke a rule, you have been punished, the matter is shut. There is no question of what more you must do to appease me or your superiors. It is done." But- well. A thought occurs. "If for you it is to only ever be as such- that is well and good and I will be happy to continue to offer this to you. But if you wish to reach that floating place I think, perhaps, we might schedule sessions? Save the Cat for punishments and try something else for the rest. You seemed quite serene when you got there. I think you need that."
"People get different things out of this. For you, this was for being unattended when you were told to keep in line of sight of someone, yes? You broke a rule, you have been punished, the matter is shut. There is no question of what more you must do to appease me or your superiors. It is done." But- well. A thought occurs. "If for you it is to only ever be as such- that is well and good and I will be happy to continue to offer this to you. But if you wish to reach that floating place I think, perhaps, we might schedule sessions? Save the Cat for punishments and try something else for the rest. You seemed quite serene when you got there. I think you need that."
This is troubling.
Cade purses his lips, but accepts the next slice of apple and chews it thoughtfully as he ruminates. But if he did enjoy it (though with his back screaming like it is now, it's hard to imagine why), does it count?
Did he actually manage to mess up being punished? And in a way so... perverse, so closely tied to how the common people satisfy their base desires.
He hunches down slightly, seeming to visibly deflate. Compared to the reality he was experiencing only five minutes ago, this one is cold and unforgiving. But it has to be. Because it... does.
"I don't know," he says in a soft, faded voice, pressing his fingers over his mouth and unable to look at Zevran again.
Cade purses his lips, but accepts the next slice of apple and chews it thoughtfully as he ruminates. But if he did enjoy it (though with his back screaming like it is now, it's hard to imagine why), does it count?
Did he actually manage to mess up being punished? And in a way so... perverse, so closely tied to how the common people satisfy their base desires.
He hunches down slightly, seeming to visibly deflate. Compared to the reality he was experiencing only five minutes ago, this one is cold and unforgiving. But it has to be. Because it... does.
"I don't know," he says in a soft, faded voice, pressing his fingers over his mouth and unable to look at Zevran again.
"I can hear you tying yourself in knots." It is not near as attractive as Cade might think- if Cade ever spared a thought for such things. And considering he is a 'good chantry boy' made templar? He likely did not. "You took the lash, you will not break that rule again. Well. It will not be a rule any longer for constant supervision causes you distress, I think, but- the matter is shut. Break another rule and we will be here again with the wall and the Cat."
It is not so much a threat as it is a promise. "But if you wish for this to be about more than punishment, we can discuss it. There is little you can imagine, ask for, or consider that I would judge you for Cade. You need not make your mind up now. The only thing you must do before you dress and leave? Is take four sips of this."
This being the healing potion he'd pulled from his bag earlier.
It is not so much a threat as it is a promise. "But if you wish for this to be about more than punishment, we can discuss it. There is little you can imagine, ask for, or consider that I would judge you for Cade. You need not make your mind up now. The only thing you must do before you dress and leave? Is take four sips of this."
This being the healing potion he'd pulled from his bag earlier.
It's true, being attractive is generally the least of Cade's concerns, though he does at least try to present himself well for the most part. He almost protests when Zevran continues, but bites his tongue; the emotions bubbling up inside him are the sort that make him say and do stupid things, and he has no room left for those.
He does, however, crack a bit when Zevran implies he might want more out of it than punishment. "I don't," he snaps, but his demeanor is more desperate than angry. Perhaps it's better to call this off now, before it can get out of hand. Before he can be any further corrupted.
He regrets thinking this as soon as Zevran offers him the potion-- Zevran, the person who has been helping him-- or has he? Maybe this is just some sick stunt. Maybe he was sent by the Dalish.
Cade accepts the flask, but only long enough to take one sip that might be the duration of two. Then he hands it back, quite forcefully, and gets to his feet with a hiss. Oh right, that. Hastily bailing out will be hindered a bit by the fact that putting his shirt back on will be slow murder.
He does, however, crack a bit when Zevran implies he might want more out of it than punishment. "I don't," he snaps, but his demeanor is more desperate than angry. Perhaps it's better to call this off now, before it can get out of hand. Before he can be any further corrupted.
He regrets thinking this as soon as Zevran offers him the potion-- Zevran, the person who has been helping him-- or has he? Maybe this is just some sick stunt. Maybe he was sent by the Dalish.
Cade accepts the flask, but only long enough to take one sip that might be the duration of two. Then he hands it back, quite forcefully, and gets to his feet with a hiss. Oh right, that. Hastily bailing out will be hindered a bit by the fact that putting his shirt back on will be slow murder.
"Cade." As warm and patient as his voice had been, as kind as he's made himself since Cade started drifting down? Zevran's voice is a sharp authoritarian crack. "Sit down."
There is no room for argument, no real shift in his posture- just his voice and the weight of his eyes, cold and hard against the scrambling man. He expected degrees of this to be true, but he did not expect it to be half so frantic.
Skittish. He'll need to remember that for the future. Skittish and anxious and self loathing- things he remembers well but what worked for him hadn't actually worked and are not things he'd visit upon Cade. Ever.
There is no room for argument, no real shift in his posture- just his voice and the weight of his eyes, cold and hard against the scrambling man. He expected degrees of this to be true, but he did not expect it to be half so frantic.
Skittish. He'll need to remember that for the future. Skittish and anxious and self loathing- things he remembers well but what worked for him hadn't actually worked and are not things he'd visit upon Cade. Ever.
Even in his frazzled state, Cade can't resist a direct order, least of all one from someone who has at least temporary authority over him.
He stops quickly, but is slower to sit back down, looking every bit as sick and weary as he did before they began. He drops his face into his hands, knotting his fingers in his hair, knowing he's ruined it. Whatever 'it' is, whether it's a thing he thought might work or... whatever comes after this. Ruined.
He stops quickly, but is slower to sit back down, looking every bit as sick and weary as he did before they began. He drops his face into his hands, knotting his fingers in his hair, knowing he's ruined it. Whatever 'it' is, whether it's a thing he thought might work or... whatever comes after this. Ruined.
Were it anyone else knotting themselves up so tight, leaving themselves so tense and uncertain- Zevran would reach out and stroke their hair, hold a hand, do something to ground them. But he gave his word and Cade made so few requests that he will abide by them. There is no brush of skin, merely the hard bump of the flask against Cade's fingertips. "Four sips, you said. This or the salve. You have taken one."
That is all. No chiding for the panic, no condemnation for attempting to leave at all- merely for attempting to leave before the agreed upon amount of potion was taken. "Three more."
That is all. No chiding for the panic, no condemnation for attempting to leave at all- merely for attempting to leave before the agreed upon amount of potion was taken. "Three more."
Zevran waits silently until Cade has finished, taking back the flask with a murmur of approval, all the former warmth and pride slipping back into his voice easily. "Very good. I'll want to check your back tomorrow during our first debrief."
Because that? Is still a thing. And so too will be looking over the welts and bruises to see how they've settled.
Because that? Is still a thing. And so too will be looking over the welts and bruises to see how they've settled.
Another downcast nod follows. Cade finds all he truly wants to do now is go to sleep and pretend none of this happened, but he remembers that there is a Tranquil waiting outside-- who has been waiting outside this entire time-- who will bring him back to his quarters. And probably know everything, and probably report it to Nerva or Alayre in their offputting, monotone way that is somehow still so incriminating.
He sits there, head down, hands folded, and waits to be dismissed. He'll have to face it eventually, he always does.
He sits there, head down, hands folded, and waits to be dismissed. He'll have to face it eventually, he always does.
"If you wish to spend more time here and rest, relax, you may. If you wish to leave? You may." There is little more Zevran can offer Cade in this; the man is so far in his own mind that nothing he could say or offer might help him back out again. The ball is in his court.
Predictably, Cade decides to take it and go home. For now, at least. Zevran has made it clear that he will be expected back tomorrow, and he is not so bold as to directly ignore that, Especially not after what has transpired tonight. There's... leverage now.
He nods and rises slowly to his feet, wincing in pain as the skin on his back protests once more. Then, in spite of it-- ever the soldier-- he slips his shirt on, his face screwing up in repressed anguish as he allows it to settle. Then, of course, he shrugs on his doublet and begins to lace it up, eyes swimming with tears. Even with the healing potion, this is pretty intense.
Finally, he decides he's embarrassed himself enough. "...goodnight," he says quietly as he turns to go, casting a wary glance over his shoulder. Zevran might be angry. Cade's not sure whether he should care or not, but when in doubt, he always does.
He nods and rises slowly to his feet, wincing in pain as the skin on his back protests once more. Then, in spite of it-- ever the soldier-- he slips his shirt on, his face screwing up in repressed anguish as he allows it to settle. Then, of course, he shrugs on his doublet and begins to lace it up, eyes swimming with tears. Even with the healing potion, this is pretty intense.
Finally, he decides he's embarrassed himself enough. "...goodnight," he says quietly as he turns to go, casting a wary glance over his shoulder. Zevran might be angry. Cade's not sure whether he should care or not, but when in doubt, he always does.
All the more reason to check in with him tomorrow. The aftermath hadn't lasted near as long as Zevran might have wished before Cade wound himself so tight as to undo all the good they'd managed- but tomorrow was a new day. Perhaps he'd be more settled.
And perhaps Nugs would fly over Skyhold. Actual nugs, not stuffed ones.
Zevran sat back in his chair, still cutting wedges of what was left of the apple for himself, neither angry nor concerned. He was, as ever, visibly relaxed no matter what had occurred. "Sleep well, Cade."
And perhaps Nugs would fly over Skyhold. Actual nugs, not stuffed ones.
Zevran sat back in his chair, still cutting wedges of what was left of the apple for himself, neither angry nor concerned. He was, as ever, visibly relaxed no matter what had occurred. "Sleep well, Cade."
It helps, he thinks, that he had grown up a ways away from the lights and noise of the city and around a dad who didn't do much for kicks other than hunt or fish or get drunk at poker games. Fire-building without matches and learning to set rudimentary traps are just the sort of things he and Nick had fun with as kids what feels like a lifetime ago, neither of them thinking they'd ever really need to. But few ever do.
Zevran's not like any survivor he's ever met; he doesn't just scrape his way from one day to the next out here, he thrives. But Luke, knowing what little he does about him, realizes it isn't all that surprising. After all, Zev's been a survivor from before the dead refused to stay dead - and he never had the luxury of fire-building and learning to set rudimentary traps just for shits and giggles.
It's thanks to one of his traps that they've got themselves some squirrel for dinner, which means they can save the last couple cans of green beans in his backpack for a rainier day. It's risky building a fire in the hearth of the cabin they've been hunkering down in the past week, but fuck it -- it's their first taste of meat in a while and he's willing to wait for it to cook over a dim flame even if it's fucking torture sitting close enough to watch it crackle and drip with glistening fat.
"Look, I hate to be that guy, but... is it done yet? 'cause it's smellin' plenty done to me."
Zevran's not like any survivor he's ever met; he doesn't just scrape his way from one day to the next out here, he thrives. But Luke, knowing what little he does about him, realizes it isn't all that surprising. After all, Zev's been a survivor from before the dead refused to stay dead - and he never had the luxury of fire-building and learning to set rudimentary traps just for shits and giggles.
It's thanks to one of his traps that they've got themselves some squirrel for dinner, which means they can save the last couple cans of green beans in his backpack for a rainier day. It's risky building a fire in the hearth of the cabin they've been hunkering down in the past week, but fuck it -- it's their first taste of meat in a while and he's willing to wait for it to cook over a dim flame even if it's fucking torture sitting close enough to watch it crackle and drip with glistening fat.
"Look, I hate to be that guy, but... is it done yet? 'cause it's smellin' plenty done to me."
"You do know there are a great many illnesses that come from eating poorly cooked meat, yes?" Not that it'll be poorly cooked when he's done with the spit, but the point remains. He'd rather have meat a little overdone and take longer than have either of them laid out from some manner of cramping sickness due to food poisoning. Much as he has not been thrilled with the idea of traveling with someone he did not trust (which is everyone), Luke has been kind and capable enough company.
More than enough to warrant ensuring his health and safety. Two sets of eyes are better than one- and it is a nice change of pace to talk to more than a wall or dead radio in hopes someone on the other end might hear him.
"At least this will taste of something. Remind me to leave a thank you note to whoever left spices in the kitchen."
More than enough to warrant ensuring his health and safety. Two sets of eyes are better than one- and it is a nice change of pace to talk to more than a wall or dead radio in hopes someone on the other end might hear him.
"At least this will taste of something. Remind me to leave a thank you note to whoever left spices in the kitchen."
He sighs on both counts. The sad reality is that the owners of the place are either dead or long gone, run off by walkers or bandits; he tries not to think about it too long, as if their luck might take a turn for the worse if he does. Shit'll hit the fan inevitably, like always, but they can hope for a longer smoother ride until then.
"Next time we're on a run I'll keep an' eye out. Figure there's plenty where that came from seein' as grabbin' the pepper ain't exactly a priority these days."
He feels spoiled with just a little taste of salt, but spices? Now that's fancy eating.
"Next time we're on a run I'll keep an' eye out. Figure there's plenty where that came from seein' as grabbin' the pepper ain't exactly a priority these days."
He feels spoiled with just a little taste of salt, but spices? Now that's fancy eating.
"Whole pepper would be best- or a jug of vinegar. If we can brine or pickle the next one the meat will last us twice as long. What I would not give for time and space to properly cure jerky." It won't taste quite so good, but they could carry it without worrying as much about where they would find their next meal. After this? it is the canned vegetables and that will not hold them much longer. Heading into any kind of town is a fool's errand.
"We should check the basement again, see if we cannot cut the lock. There is bound to be something down there." The kitchen had been bare- as were most they find lately. The spices had been a blessing.
"We should check the basement again, see if we cannot cut the lock. There is bound to be something down there." The kitchen had been bare- as were most they find lately. The spices had been a blessing.
His nose wrinkles slightly at the thought of vinegar; in a world gone rank, that sort of sharp sourness might be too close to the smell of decay for his tastes. "Pretty sure I'd bust my machete on it, but if we could jus' find an axe or somethin'..."
Just another thing on the list to look out for. He looks to him after a moment, swallowing against a dull pang in his throat. Mom would've liked Zev's company, he thinks, sharing her best recipes and techniques for making preserves. Well, maybe second-best recipes. Some secrets were hers to keep.
"So where'd you learn all this?" Luke asks suddenly, feeling an urge to stray from their usual business-like discussions. It'd be nice to know something more about a guy he'd be spending an indefinite period of time with. While he can strike out on his own - and he's had to spend more than a few nights on his own, here and there, over the last two years for some reason or another - there's power in numbers and much more. He hasn't scarred over and hardened enough to be like Jane, struggling to keep all the world - the good and the bad - at arms' length.
"If... you don' mind me askin'."
Just another thing on the list to look out for. He looks to him after a moment, swallowing against a dull pang in his throat. Mom would've liked Zev's company, he thinks, sharing her best recipes and techniques for making preserves. Well, maybe second-best recipes. Some secrets were hers to keep.
"So where'd you learn all this?" Luke asks suddenly, feeling an urge to stray from their usual business-like discussions. It'd be nice to know something more about a guy he'd be spending an indefinite period of time with. While he can strike out on his own - and he's had to spend more than a few nights on his own, here and there, over the last two years for some reason or another - there's power in numbers and much more. He hasn't scarred over and hardened enough to be like Jane, struggling to keep all the world - the good and the bad - at arms' length.
"If... you don' mind me askin'."
Edited 2016-05-16 12:03 (UTC)
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