ombranera | Open RP Post

Zevran does not quite roll his eyes at the last- but he does tug on that curl again. "None of that either. Can one truly turn one's back on a god that has left us? I do not know what the chantry teaches in the south but the Maker has left us. All of us. He cannot be gone and be so intent as to punish us as well for attempting to move on with our lives. You sought another means of service."

That is all. "To be a Grey Warden is to stop the Blight, to stop the Blight is to protect the rest of creation and strike down that which corrupted the golden city. How is this not something noble and devout in it's own way? Life can be shit. It is not the Maker punishing you. It is other people being awful, which makes the problem simpler. Gods cannot be so easily challenged. Shitty people? Can be killed. Or at least driven off so they no longer bother you- so long as they are deserving."

"Ow," Cade grunts, clapping his hand against his head to block Zevran from pulling his hair again. He's very briefly indignant, but that quickly melts back into the usual melancholy uncertainty.
It's easy to take his cues from a stronger personality, but more difficult when it comes to something he has so firmly believed for more or less his entire life. Perhaps the Maker is gone, but someday He may come back-- and would he be pleased with what he sees?

"...maybe," he concedes, finding that this isn't a topic he wants to argue about. He doesn't trust himself to hold his own, and to fail in that would only shame him further.

At last, a spark of personality. Or at least a change from the almost listless terror and resignation that seemed to rule the man's life. "You do not need to agree. But I would rather you not punish yourself for something that has come and gone. Focus on the present, the future. What is done, what must be done. Wallowing offers little help."

Cade is silent for a moment once again, then he nods. It is, however, the sort of nod that communicates 'I am nodding to show I heard and will placate you', not the sort that implies any changes will be made or action taken. He wouldn't even know where to begin.

"...you...." he tentatively begins, "...mentioned earlier, someone who could. Help with that sort of thing." A pause, then, "...who do you think...?" And more importantly, would they accept him-- most signs point to no these days.

"Oh, I thought I made that much obvious." His hands drop away from Cade if only to spread wide and gesture to his very fine self. "I meant me."

He knew how such things went, understood more than a little the cause for Cade's disquiet- knew what to avoid and what might be useful- and it would limit those that knew of their mutual traumatic pasts (tm). "If you find that agreeable."

It had been in the back of Cade's mind, but he hadn't really thought it could be... actually this. Perhaps a retired watch captain, or a soldier, or.... not.... not this. He stares at Zevran with an expression caught between bewilderment and suspicion.

"...what would you get out of it?" is his first question.

"Depending on your preference? It could be quite hot." Putting that option out there- the depth and variety of things they might do rests entirely in Cade's hands. Whether or not Cade realizes this, well. That will come with time. Zevran settles back against the wall, posture open, easy.

"Other than that? Knowing I am able to help someone that needs it? Well, allow me to correct myself, I am not so altruistic as that. You having another incident and getting yourself killed or killing someone else while you are out of sorts- that looks bad for the Inquisition, the Templars, then there is fighting and yelling and it is so very hard to sleep or live when everyone is wound up over such things. Making sure it is not a problem? That is no burden. Also the helping someone that has been through what I have been through. I had...similar issues before I was trained out of them and managed to kill the man responsible." Another fluid shrug. "The training and minding will be different in that you have a choice in the matter but- I think what I know might be of use, here."

A beat.

"And if done right it can be incredibly erotic. That too."

There are words that cause Cade's defenses to slam up around him, and 'hot' and 'erotic' are both on that list. He recoils, physically moving himself farther away from Zevran, although he remains seated. Although there is fear in this, there is also a defensive outrage, as if to say I trusted you. Things like eroticism are for... other people, and to have someone-- a man, no less-- openly state that this is the endgame makes Cade's skin crawl.
It's not that he isn't tempted by the rest of it: by the understanding, the empathy, the awareness of what must be done. The potential of having someone... a friend..? who might care how he ends up.
But all through that lens? He can't stomach it. The outrage shifts just as rapidly to distress as he looks toward the far door, mind reeling with what he perceives as a betrayal.

"or-" Well that answers that question. "None of that. The choice is yours, Cade."

He holds his hands up, remaining where he is without any attempt to get close again. "As I said. Whatever you wish to do, as you wish it to be done. If you want this to not be sexual- it will not be. I'll not speak of it again."

Just like that, Cade is verging on wreckage again. Especially when Zevran reassures him, his thoughts start piling over themselves and he buries his face in the blanket over his knees again.
At least this time he doesn't start weeping-- he just curls there quietly for a minute or so, listening to his own breath, calming his heart rate. He knows he can't fly off the handle every time he feels even vaguely threatened; that's how this mess began in the first place. Zevran is still sitting over where he was, Cade hasn't heard him move, and they are both just sitting silently in the tower. It is not the end times.

Cade wearily lifts his head again, keeping his gaze on the floor, soldiering forward if only so he can stave off the total isolation of his life for a little longer. He should be thankful that someone is talking to him at all.
"...what else would it be, then," he asks, very carefully, not looking at Zevran.

"A lifestyle adjustment. You need rules, guidance, accountability. I can offer that. Anything more or less, that is your choice." A beat passes. "...you've never...had a choice, have you? I do not expect you've been with anyone since? Most, unless circumstances are quite particular, do not seek out such things."

Zevran did not have much of a choice in the matter.

It sounds exhausting, but... so does everything. In spite of himself, Cade is still suspicious as he watches Zevran talk, but the further line of questioning actually does help to alleviate some of his worry. He shakes his head, hunching his shoulders slightly.

"..I would... like that," he forces himself to say, "...I think." And then he pauses, clearly running something over in his mind, before he adds, "...how do I know you're... that you won't..."
It's not intended to insult Zevran. But if Cade is mistreated that way again, he will never recover from it, and he knows this on a deep and intuitive level.

"Do something you do not wish me to do? You have said no. I mean to respect that." He takes no offense. Anyone else and he might but- Cade and he have endured similar circumstances. "...It did not stop, after him. I killed him, yes, but I was with the Crows until I was six and twenty. If not him, another or one of the masters. It is only when The Warden and Alistair freed me that my skin became my own in truth. I know what it is to wish to say no but be unable to do so, for whatever reason. That is why when you say no, when you express discomfort? I stop. This is in your hands, Cade."

Although he's the sort of person who tends to be on-edge and wary of others' intentions, Cade also craves the simplicity and relief of trusting someone. In the past he has placed that trust in superior officers, people who were paid to have his best interests at heart; but when that went awry, when he was left directionless in the Hinterlands with men who wouldn't follow him and mages trying to kill them, it all fell apart.
As far as he's concernedl, the Knights-Commander at Skyhold would prefer that he remain off the Order's radar entirely.

He mulls this over for a few minutes as he looks at Zevran, his gaze deeply pensive and ever-presently anxious. However, he hasn't left yet.
"What sort of... rules would there be?" he asks quietly, with the same underlying dread as before. It's as though he's testing Zevran, trying to figure out the catch.

He lets Cade have the time to mull it over. Something like this? Is not done lightly or easily. It needs all the consideration either of them care to give. Silence can be uncomfortable, can be disquieting- but Zevran takes it as a sign that Cade is truly giving this the full weight it deserves. He has time.

"That depends on how much structure you require. Would more rules be better than less? A schedule to keep, perhaps, on top of that?"

"I have a schedule," he murmurs, "I work for Seeker Aleron, and... I help out around the keep. I eat and sleep when I'm supposed to. I go to the chapel twice a day." Nothing has changed since he received the schedule Nerva gave him-- he's made sure of that, with or without supervision.
"I don't know what more rules I'd need," he continues, a bit helplessly, "...I don't break any rules."

Edited (I typed weird and somehow hit the reply button midway through a sentence) 2016-04-13 03:42 (UTC)

"And yet you still find yourself out of sorts, yes?" Otherwise the idea would not appeal to him so keenly. "What is your current schedule- and how do you help around the keep?"

Anything that needed to be added or embellished upon, Zevran could likely work with that.

Cade nods. Out of sorts is a way he has felt for what seems like always, but sometimes it's more obvious than others. It's a strain, having seemingly everything he needs to get through the day, and still feeling a lack.
"...chapel, after I wake up," he recites, "breakfast. Work. Lunch, work. ...do whatever Nerva asks, help with any labor needed around Skyhold until dinner. Chapel. Then..." He shrugs. "Sleep, and start over again." On days like today, when there aren't any extra tasks for which he's needed, he's able to go amuse himself as long as he stays out of trouble. Which... he's at least partially managed, depending on how one defines trouble.

"After your morning's work but before lunch find me in the barn and debrief me on what you've been doing thusfar in the day. It will not be much, merely a discussion, my checking in to see how you are feeling- a second debriefing before dinner. If at any time during the day you feel out of sorts or anxious, no matter what time it is or what you are doing? Either find me in person or send for me with the sending crystals."

What he would do if Cade felt thus- he isn't quite certain yet. But having a process in hand for when that happened was better than hoping it never would.

Another easy nod follows. Although he has several people to report to during the day, all of them naturally have their own lives and priorities, and it's rare that he feels an important part of either. Or... that he matters at all, beyond being a nuisance.

But this sounds easy enough. Nothing he has to fret over doing right or wrong, just a conversation. And thank the Maker it isn't as extreme as constant supervision.
"I can do that," he confirms in a quiet voice, almost a whisper.

"After dinner? Take an hour or so to read something for yourself. A few chapters of a work of fiction you enjoy. The next day during our meeting we'll discuss it." It is a very loose sketch of a schedule, and rules? "What are the current rules you abide by?"

Cade nods again, a little more hesitantly. Being told to take leisure time is something new, and he didn't expect it, but he supposes he can deal with that.
As for current rules...
"Um... no weapons," he lists, beginning to turn red, and bringing a hand up to curl over his mouth while he talks, "don't leave Skyhold, don't start any trouble, or get in any fights... get enough sleep, eat enough, um... do whatever's asked of me throughout the day. Chores and things. Follow the Chant of Light" It's essentially the life of a schoolchild, and that fact is not lost on him. It puts him in an odd place, mentally, considering those were some of the worst years of his life.

"Oh, and..." He goes a bit redder, and sighs, glancing at the door. "...I'm, ah... not supposed to be out of anyone's line of sight." Which he most assuredly was, before Zevran came in.

Basic and broad rules, all. For now they will have to do, only further observation and consideration will tell him if Cade needs more specifics or less. They hadn't even touched on punishments for breaking said rules as- to the best of Zevran's ability to understand the current rules, he has not broken any.

Or.

He has. Curious. "And should you break those rules- what is the punishment?"

An hour at prayer? A written essay on how not to break the rule? Running laps about skyhold? Is he punished like a templar, a student, a soldier, or a criminal?

It's true, he hasn't broken any since the initial incident -- or, well, he's broken this one, but has never been caught.
"..I don't know," he admits, "I suppose I'd just... be put under tighter surveillance." The very thought exhausts him; for someone this shy, having to constantly be in the presence of other people is as draining as having to run laps with bricks tied to one's feet.

"...or given more work to do, maybe." And be resented further by those in charge of supervision, if he's not shunted off to do busywork and forgotten entirely.
If nothing else, the punishment would be feeling even less like a person than he already does.

"Do you feel those are fitting?" In the Crows breaking rules- what few there were and breaking them in such a way as to be caught- meant a flogging. Whether or not that would be at all appropriate or even suitable for Cade's needs, he cannot say. But something must be done for a rule broken, or something must be changed so the rule is more fair to a man that seems to have difficulties with people.

Reasonable ones.

"Or would something more concrete, something that would serve as a reminder suit?"

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