Say A Little Prayer For You

Cassandra Chen, 30, Founder of the Masters of Moruk. A peasant girl, doing her best to make a better world

[cassthecharitable]

seaworthless​:

Ah, Cassandra. Her decency had long since ceased to astonish him, or stir anything like suspicion; Cass was, so far as Sevren could tell, every bit what she appeared to be. Incorruptibly so. “Have I ever mentioned that you’re far too good? I must’ve.” Probably many times. Like his birds - who were clicking their way around the dishes, choosing their morsels - he didn’t mind repeating himself when the point deserved proper emphasis. “Everyone downstairs will have a go at what’s left, when we’re done. Don’t fret.” He went for the wine, pouring for the both of them. Just the thing; he’d been feeling thoroughly wretched all day, as the sky dimmed. For once, his uneasiness had more to do with that, this rotten eclipse, than the thought of coming home. It was easier, now that mother and father were deep in the crypts. Harder, since Sebastian had joined them. But it hadn’t been simple, ever. The Seaworths. About as far from simple as you might get. Unless you were a Stoneward. Bless Josefin, really. That crown must be such a weight. 

Passing Cass her own goblet - etched crystal and silver, lovely, sure to be loathed - Sev nodded, not at all seriously. “Mhm. Every damn day. You should see it all on special occasions.” Special occasions, yes. This should count, shouldn’t it? The first eclipse of its kind in centuries. Not to mention, Moruk’s favourite at their table. But what was special, according to his fine and mighty family, had never been his to decide. 

Leaving Njale and Trygg to fight over those grapes he’d been picking at, Sev circled over to where she was admiring - or at least staring, furiously, no doubt - at the decor. “Dour-looking lot, aren’t we?” He winced, following her eyes across those old, familiar portraits; all those raven-haired, sharp-faced Seaworths. Then, he gave dear Cass a once-over, sipping his wine. Salt-stiff, muddy at the edges. Such a journey she must’ve had. “You’ll be needing fresh clothes, won’t you? Something more suited to the weather. What the weather will be, anyway, when that blasted moon moves on,” he sighed, circling over to the many should-be-bright windows. “It really is rather a lovely city. In its own way. You’ll just have to take my word for that, I suppose.” 

-

"I believe so. Somewhere in between your prancing and antics.” Cassandra utters, a critical eye upon the Elysian. But her gaze is harsh for only a moment, before softening into something akin to warm tolerance. Sevren Seaworth was the anti-thesis of all Cassandra Chen stood for. At least, by appearances alone. He shamelessly carried his wealth and used his influential position to travel the realm. But each time Sevren stepped foot onto the orphanage, spirits were raised and laughter was endless. Despite his upbringing, he treated those around him with sheer integrity and respect. Had it been a one time occurrence, she would have dismissed it as such. But the years proved his intentions. Her hesitant eyes glean over the spread again, cautious to believe it. However, there was little she could do. It was not hers to do with As she picks at the pastry, her eyes well with concern. “Are you quite alright?” The dark-haired man’s face looked tired, almost weary. Her attention is only broken by the goblet, adorned with gems. She curbs the disdainful comment, choosing instead to take a long gulp. Water or tea was in short supply, and the calming effects of wine were sorely needed.

“In Loqoala, an eclipse such as this is a religious occasion to some.” It was not a holy rite for the Moruk-worshippers, but many of her poor houses were settling in for a day of tribute. “Some would light large bon fires and dance in celebration.” Cassandra summarizes, a twinge of longing across her face. How she wished she had returned, to partake in such events. The children always thrived in such an environment. She follows Sevren’s pointed gaze, assessing the large portrait. The Seaworth’s. Like him, pitch-black hair and stark blue eyes. The dour association was not lost on Cassandra. He seemed utterly dismissive. But all she could see was a lineage, a certainty. “Stoic,” she adds softly. “What is it like?” Cassandra asks him curiously. “To know whom you come from? To know... To have such a history? A legacy?” She Loqoalan woman never indulged herself too much on the matter of her parentage. But in the quiet moments of her life, she wondered what it was like to belong to a family.

The tizzy of the wine lingers on her tongue, as she glances down at her jacket. “Fresh clothes, yes. But nothing large or ostentatious, please.” She follows his eyes out the pitch-dark window, but the lingering mood upon Sevren was too distracting. “Truly, are you alright?”

[cassthecharitable]

seaworthless​:

Of all the people to wash up in his own home port - Cassandra Chen, in Ravencliff. She’d never been through the city before, that much he knew. So devoted to her good works. No time for roaming. Which, of course, meant Sev simply had to slip through the dockside crowds to catch her up, there in the gloom of this wretched eclipse, to insist she partake of a little local hospitality. His version of it, anyway. After all, he’d enjoyed so much of hers, over the years. And besides, she’d clearly been weathered by all the traveling; the sea could be such a very rough mistress. Wasn’t everyone’s idea of a fine time. Nor his, at least, not always. Now and then, though? Just the thing. 

But he had a guest. In his house. His nephew’s, anyway. The liveried servants had bustled up to take his heavy oilskin coat, like it hadn’t been months since he’d last swept in; Sev, as always, had asked after their families, their health, the usual. They’d always made better company than his parents. And insisted he was wonderfully well, that he wouldn’t be staying long, and, most importantly, that it absolutely was time to bring up something splendid from the cellar. The wine cellar, that is - those deep, dim, cool passageways, cut into into the chalky stone. He’d show Cass around those, too, if she hung about long enough. In the meantime, Sev had led the way, through towering, heavy doors, along salt-rimed walkways and up black-slate stairs, to the heart of the place. 

“And here we are, the highest hall,” he took a slow spin, arms spread to all their rangy wingspan, taking in the sheer gape of it the space. “And if you think that’s a sight, well, you won’t believe the sunroom. Tragically useless to us at the moment, of course…” Indeed, they’d had to light the candelabras, there in the gathering dark. Unfortunate, that she wouldn’t get to see the estate in all its bright, sea-breezed glory. She’d hate it even more, then. “You must be starved. Help yourself. And parched, too. Wine? Schnäpse?” The old Seaworth blend, too. The old Seaworth everything, around here. So bloody old. Meandering along the grand table to where the servants had prepared a lovely spread - rather too much, of course, for even the most peckish, thirsty traveler - Sev plucked a dusk-purple bunch of grapes from one of the piled-high platters. “Or, there’s always… tea, I suppose…” If you liked that sort of thing. 

@cassthecharitable​

-

The splendor of noble life was one Cassandra only knew from second-hand sources, Sevren keenly among them. Many a lord and lady of Loqoalan nobility descended onto the shelter, attempting to assuage their need for validation via the disenfranchised. Some would attempt to mask their wealth, with ‘simple’ garb but they never ceased to smell of perfume and decadence. Inevitably, they would speak proudly of their house and the great feats they accomplished. They would describe their mythic castles and formidable ranks, as if the poor and desolate would ever benefit from it. But her eyes pan upwards, the grandeur of the Seaworth’s home a breathtaking sight. Alongside the water, it boasted of strength and history. She follows Sevren, a few paces behind as she guffawed at her surroundings.

She stops uncomfortably as his staff surged forward, their hands instinctively removing the coat from her travels. Was this Sevren’s reception every time? Could someone of his strength and ability simply remove their own bloody coat? But the flurry of activity and persons forced her to remain mum, choosing instead to take in the surroundings. The tapestries, the fine furniture... Nothing but the best, reserved for so few. Despite the distracting sights, she listens keenly to Sevren’s interactions with his staff. It was almost admirable, how he spoke with such warmth and knowledge of their lives. Almost.

“This is...” She breathes out, almost scandalized by the excess. With only the pair in the grand hall, the immaculate spread could heartily feed half of her shelter fully. “How are we supposed to finish all of this?” Cassandra guffaws, glancing around as if expecting further company. “Are there more people from the streets to come? Perhaps the people from the foyer?” She knew the answer, of course. But perhaps his own staff could indulge. She nods absently, paying little mind to the beverage of choice. “Wine,” she shrugs, her calloused hands reaching for a pastry. The poor house often grew their own crop, but confectionery and pastries were a rare indulgence. Far too expensive. “Is this how it is everyday?” Cassandra inquires quietly, looking upon portraits and chandeliers. “Such a gaudy display of supposed strength?”

[cassthecharitable]

3. normal-looking town, except for the complete lack of people (From Jo)

"I understand that we share very little in common. A princess and a priestess. An Elysian and a Loqoalan. But,” she looks upon the statuesque blond, Josefin, and sighs in resolution. “Will you pray with me?”

[cassthecharitable]

♔ (jawline/neck - lucan)

Despite the presumptions of others, her lack of intimate experience was not rooted in Moruk and his learned scripture. The Loqoalan God did not dictate what his followers did, where carnal pleasures were concerned. Instead, Cassandra’s nature of being reserved (where romance was concerned, anyways) overcame her desires. But nightfall fell upon the beach, and the priestess indulged in a rare glass of wine. The Northerner’s hair blew beautifully against the Loqoalan winds, as they spoke intimately about nothing and everything. Uninhibited, she leans forward, placing butterfly kisses against the warmth of his skin. She pauses, lips still against his jawline “Well? How was that?” Cassandra asks nervously, meeting his surprised eyes with a timid smile. “Come, be honest. We are friends, aren’t we?” @sirlucanerickson

[cassthecharitable]

avitejkumara​:

…

Avi huffed a gentle laughter.  “Caught between a jellyfish and a squid, Priestess.  I suppose we should all work dishonestly, then?  If you believe that would make the world a better place.”  How dire, that the Priestess proclaimed that honesty was a trait that led to more disaster than success. And how disturbing then, that the Master of Moruk’s statement subtly implied that operating dishonestly was a better option.  

Was that how she operated?  Avi watched her eat, and wondered.

She spoke in idealism, while Avi was talking about the situation right now.  “I thought honest work more than often led to unsavoury consequences,”  Avi pointed out, paraphrasing her.  But he was smiling when he said it.  

“I’m only teasing.  I know what you’re trying to say, but boys like that barely understand what a better life even looks like.  They don’t know.  They’ve been fed lies that led them here, instead.  Lies and promises, but all they’ll get is disease and death.  Their lives are entrapped here, just in a different way.  They’re fodder for a goal that won’t benefit them in the end.”

He nodded slowly at her lament. He was tempted to touch her then, extend some form of comfort as Avi was naturally physical.  But even after their adventure together, Avi felt the reverent distance between them now.  She was a priestess, and one didn’t just get chummy with a Priestess.  Still, he covered her hand with his own.  

“I should be the one thanking you.  You saved my life back there, you know.  Well - I supposed the blasted horse did technically, but you steered it,” he joked.  Blinking slowly at Cassandra, Avi sobered up before he continued.

“Nevertheless, for that service, allow me to provide you a service in return.  I promise you, that I’ll ensure they’re taken care of.  Fed and trained to sea.  Educated in that useful Loqoalan vocation, rather than scrabbling in the dirt in the middle of Elysi.  After that, they will have the luxury of choice, rather than this…desperation.”  Avi had unintentionally slipped into a much more formal way of speaking, since they were dealing with favour-trading.  

Standing as well, Avi stilled when her cool hand pressed against his cheek.  With a cheeky smile, Avi tilted his head just enough to press a rough, beardy kiss against her palm.  “We’re not out of the woods yet, Priestess.  Let’s pray that Moruk gets us to the coast unscathed.”

-

"Despite popular belief, us Masters do not hold the answers to our existence. Moruk shows us why, whilst we determine how.” Rigidity in belief would do nothing for herself, Avitej, or the boys before them. All must learn and grow, as their environment enables them. “All I can assess, is that when the powers-that-be are broken... It is difficult to turn a honest act into an honest result.” A commentary on both Loqoala’s systems, and those who upheld it. Briefly, it feels as if Avitej’s words are prompted towards her. What did Cassandra know, beyond charity and hardwork? Her visits to other parts of the realm were few and far between. Did she know of a life outside of her own? A Master of Moruk learned not to want for more. But if it led to enlightenment, would it do her good?

It’s a question that she disregards, distracted by the sudden formality in his tone. The colloquialisms and ease of his tone shifted, regarding an entirely new tone. She glances at him again, catching nothing to hint at his importance. But few outside the clergy or magaestarium spoke with such flourish. Lest he be of a noble house, or a server to their ranks. The promise all but confirms his importance. Few could promise jobs and livelihood in Loqoala. With a suspicious quirk of a brow, she cannot help but state; “I take it you are in a position to offer such luxuries then?” They did not need to speak more of it. Cassandra feared their camaraderie spoiled by the inevitable truth.

“Then, let us make haste and live to debate this another day.”

[cassthecharitable]

oggyfromthebog​:

…

Oggy wouldn’t describe himself as a bad man. Sure that others would do that much better on his account. There was just something about stealing from orphans that felt a bit beyond the pale, even for him. If it had just been little Christian calling him Papa, all sad-eyed and eager, Oggy might’ve turned tale then. Even with Cass being delightfully gullible, which was a terrible temptation in and of itself. It wasn’t just Cass and Christian, Vaeril was involved in this too, and that was all Oggy needed to hear to steel himself to the pre-planned course of action.

“Then I thank your staff and your blessed community.” He nodded, a uncareful emphasis on the movements like an old man. “I am so grateful to the gods, and you, to be a part of that community in some small way.”  Oggy got to his feet, holding on to the nearest surface as if he needed the help. 

“Thank you so much again my dear. I will do just that.” In parting Oggy gave Christian a wink. “I will see you later tonight, you just chose a good book for us, yeah?” He toddled off to the kitchens, resisting the desire to click his heels with triumph. As soon as he got his hands on the coins he was out of here. Best to be done under cover of night, but he was quick enough to leave earlier if needs must. It’s the weight of the coins that would decide if it was worth the psychological damage of staring Christian and all his orphan buddies in the eyes as he read them to sleep knowing he’d be lining his pockets with their money. He could swear he heard Christian ask if friends couldn’t be Papas too.

END

[cassthecharitable]

avitejkumara​:

…

Skinning a tomato with his teeth, Avi then occupied himself with prying open the loaf, and pressing the tomato pulp against the bread.  If they had a bit of oil and garlic, pepper and salt, it would’ve made quite the meal.  As it was, Avi bit into it with a hungry satisfaction, and offered the other bit of the tomato sandwich to the Priestess. 

He was listening to her story about the boys - and apparently they were all of them boys. Unsurprising, Avi thought with a low huffing grunt.  Girls would never be this stupid as to run off en masse, away from Loqoala, to find themselves two continents away and landlocked in a rough-hewn campsite, waiting for orders to die.

“So they’ve traded one leader for another,”  Avi countered, but his tone was less agitated than before.  Eating together helped.  “They are clearly looking for guidance, as they had as infants, when they relied on your caring guidance.  On Moruk’s guidance.  Do you think our revered Moruk guides them here, in this forsaken mountainside? Do you think any of our gods are with them?  This isn’t revolution.  It’s a dream sold to them by manipulation and desperation.  They’ve been convinced that this is better than honest work as a sailor.”

Avi bit into his bread, wiping the tomato juice from his lips. His habit was tidiness, even here.  “I’m sorry, Priestess.  I know we disagree.  But I feel as badly for these boys as you do; only I don’t want to let them drift off into fancies that will only lead to being used and forgotten but Elysian rebels.  So far away from their homeland, without even the dignity of a proper Loqoalan death rites when they’re inevitably killed.  Forgive me, but Loqoalans have no business here.  I see them, and all I think is ‘lost’, not ‘forging their own path’.”

He looked at her then, seeing the worry and despair for her children.  The fact that she saw them as such, was profound.  “Then help them choose a better way, as you did for them before, Sister Cassandra.  If you want good lives for your lambs, convince them to come with me, back to Loqoala. Please.  They can be put to work on a ship, and find value in a sailor’s life.  At least they’ll be alive for themselves, with a crew who cares for them.  Not for some faceless Elysian rebel, bloodthirsty for glory.  Who’s blood do you think the rebels thirst for?  Not just nobles.”

Using a leaf, Avi wiped his hands.  “I do not have children.  But I have younger siblings, nieces and nephews. I love them dearly.”

-

Her pert fingers reach for the sandwich, nodding in thanks as she takes a nimble bite. In truth, hunger had not settled despite the presumptive hours (or was it almost two days?) since she had last eaten. A testament to her peasant upbringing. Food was not always an available resource, especially on the early days of the Moruk house. “Honest work does not often lead to honest results” Cassandra regards, lamenting on the many whose lives were determined by circumstance, or the whims and politics of nobility. Higher taxation, reduction in services, or the endless forced inscription of young men and women.

“Is it such a naive dream?” Cassandra asks plainly. “They dream only of something better. A life where they do not go hungry, or live in a cramped poor house with fifty other orphans. A life where reading and writing is a right, not a privilege. Wherein they may do good, honest work without the fear being taken away from their families, to fight a nobleman’s war?” It was a dream of many, of Cassandra’s herself. And though she knew war would not be the way, she could not help but defend the boys’ intent.

Then again, perhaps it was her own bias. They were, after all, her children. At least, in some form. But for all her disagreements with the sailor, she listens intently to his concerns. The priestess was never one to dismiss an idea, simply because it came from a man who disagreed with her. She silently mulled over his words, eyes still fixated on the boys. It was never her way to be adamant with the children, lest they were causing harm to others. In fact, a number of children from the poor house took arms for the Empire itself. Would she have involved herself then? Likely not. Because it was, if anything else, a righteous path.

But Cassandra saw nothing but loss and perhaps anger in their eyes. With a heavy breath, she squeezes her eyes shut, using the back of her hand to wipe away a stray tear. “They are just children,” she laments miserably, wishing for nothing but a world where such a conflict did not exist. Alas, that was an impossible ask. “We may only speak of it once we arrive to the port. I fear what they may do, should I begin to speak differently.” With a hollow chuckle, she looks upon the sailor closely. There was little opportunity to do so amidst the fray.

“Then, you have something to come home to.” Cassandra decides. Sailors were often rogue, lone wolves or family men. She decided he was the latter. She watches as the boys begin to slowly pack up, prompting their soon departure from camp. Before their privacy was lost again, she looks upon Avi. “I would not have survived without you. Thank you.” Placing a wise hand upon his cheek, she smiles graciously. “Moruk’s blessings upon you.”

[cassthecharitable]

oggyfromthebog​:

…

“Vae, of course, wonderful.” How bloody ironic. He shook his head laughing. Of course it was his bastard father-not-father. “I only mean I am familiar with Vaeril. He is one of the better council members, but what a joy he spreads his love, so liberally, all around the world.”  Vaeril probably put enough little bastards into the world he went around helping all kinds of orphanages on the off chance he missed one. Oggy reached out to take Cass’ hand, internally reeling that she could feel guilty about ‘talking highly’ like she’d even done that. “Oh dear, It is not my place but I am sure Moruk can forgive one of his most devout for a momentary lapse.” The religious set were something else. 

“Thank you, thank you.” He smiled, his other hand joining hers. Still throwing in an errant shake now and again just to keep up appearance. In truth Oggy was thankful that his information was correct, Master’s of Moruk collected coin. Most places in Loqoala dealt primarily in favors, it made working in this region terribly difficult. But not the Masters, bloody beautiful brilliant masters with donors from everywhere, they had coin aplenty Oggy could pocket for himself. “You are so kind. This will do such good.” 

Oggy just sat back, letting Cassandra deal with the orphan. Hoping the vapid ‘indulgent grand-dad’ smile he practiced was carrying the right sort of geniality. The elf didn’t work with children, didn’t get them. Kids didn’t need his services, didn’t have cash, and kid-napping was a stupid messy way to make money. “Oh! Curious lad aren’t you Christian?” Now Oggy didn’t really like kids, but O’Gwain was supposed to have worked with them all his life–loved kids O’Gwain did. “Here you are young lad, have you ever met an elf before.” Laughing Oggy turned his head giving christian better access to his ears. “Oh! Haha” Oggy forced out the laughter as little hands tugged on his notched ear, Christian kneeling on him and generally using him as a kind of play toy. “You would get along with our little one’s back in Vailen I think, so many curious- oof-” Christian fidgeted, standing up on Oggy and kneeing him accidentally. “playful. Does the heart good to see.”

-

“I am glad that his reputation precedes him. His honorable acts should be received throughout the realm. And, frankly, he is the best of men.” Cassandra gushes, honest in her assessment of Vaeril and her personage. “I am an orphan myself. But I was fortunate to receive the guidance of many spiritual and well-intended folks. Vaeril, high among them. He gave me my start, taught my everything about charitable adventures.” Politely, she squeezes his hand in response. “He will be the one to judge our place in the After.” She murmurs silently.

“You need not thank me. This coin is a testament to this community. I only hold the purse strings.” Cassandra reminds the pious elf, certain that he would relate to her sentiment. His own graciousness expressed as much. The coin of the Master’s was not a result of a guilt-ridden Lord, or a slew of wealthy bandits. It was through hard work and collectivism. She stood by the belief that people found a way, where institutions failed. The mix of their communal gardens, small artisanal offerings in the form of clothing, and overall labor force. “If anything, you can thank our staff.” She concedes with a shrug.

Her smile is wide, as Christian begins to climb towards the elf. He was a spry little boy, about eight-years-old. She laughs at O’Gwain’s tone, appreciative of the gentle nature in which he tolerated Christian’s antics. Very few understood the strife of orphans. Christian was one of the few with a tender heart. Many were often cold or broken, from a tragic loss of some form. “I think he likes you,” Cassandra determines, before inevitably shaking her head. “Alright, alright,” she mutters, placing both hands against Christian’s waist and using her strength to pull him away from the elf. “O’Gwain is tired from his journey. Why don’t we allow him time to rest and eat, hm? I am certain he would love to read to you later today.” Glancing up, she nods towards the kitchens. “Why don’t you help yourself while I put this rascal away?”

[cassthecharitable]

3. normal-looking town, except for the complete lack of people

"You cannot be serious? We are in the midst of an abandoned town, and your solution is to open that bottle of wine and sift through a noblewoman’s closet?” Cassandra guffaws, yet her words end promptly at the sight of a golden dress. A splendor of fashion proportions. “We do not speak of this to Moruk.” She decides, smiling candidly at Xi’mia as she promptly throws it in her bag.

[cassthecharitable]

6. cornfield

"When I asked if you would entertain the children with a game, I did not mean to play hide and seek!” Cassandra yells loudly, attempting for her voice to carry through the cornfield. With no such luck, she steps forward, already on the second hour of search. “And I especially did not mean for you to get lost in the cornfields in the process! Avi? Avi?”

[lilithmemes]

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋 …     (     NSFW EDITION.     )

          FOR YOUR MUSE TO REACT TO SOMETHING MY MUSE IS DOING.           ↳     alternatively add     + reverse     for my muse doing it to yours.

♡     :     kissing them passionately     ,     without any explanation.

♔     :     kiss a part of their body   (   specify which one   ).

✧      :     push them up against a wall     &     kiss them.

✩      :     wake them up in the morning with oral sex.

➳     :     mark them on any part of their body     (     specify which one     ).

→     :     whisper dirty things in their ear     (     BONUS POINTS IF YOU SPECIFY WHAT.     ).

✿     :     rip an article of clothing from their body.

ϟ      :     tease a body part with ice cubes.

↷     :     spank them out of the blue.

[rp-meme-central]

Send one of these for our muses to meet on/in a:

1. creepy old building

2. graveyard

3. normal-looking town, except for the complete lack of people

4. spooky forest

5. ominous-looking mansion/castle

6. cornfield

7. cabin in the woods

8. abandoned amusement park

9. cave

10. creaky boat

[cassthecharitable]

thenorthernrose​:

…

“Oh…” Rosaline took in a steady breath, the corners of her mouth curving upwards before she laughed lightly at Cassandra’s question. It was posed innocently enough, but it was an obvious test in its own right. Was the Queen in the North a hypocrite? Just and fair, or just like all the rest of the nobility? Well Rosaline knew she couldn’t please everyone. “Rebels I have no doubt. History does have a way of repeating itself, although I don’t see any leader stepping forward to claim their actions this time around.” She clicked her tongue, “It is a bit of a disappointment, I must admit. The sheer secrecy of it all.”

Rosaline frowned at Cassandra a bit deeper, “I don’t believe I outlined a favor could only be repaid in coin. If you are serving dinner soon, I’d be more than happy to help.”

-

“Perhaps it is a testament to the people’s will.” Cassandra suggests, after silent deliberation. Leadership was key in any movement, as she had learned through the study of scripture at the head church of Joaqoan. But something like the rebellion was not the dream of one ruler with divine right. But the sheer frustration and dreams of a people. “A prevailing reminder of the people’s dissatisfaction with the establishment.” And by the establishment, she could not help but gaze upon the Queen.

With an impressed, if not slightly bemused smile, she licks her lips. Uncrossing her arms, she nods slowly as she unhooks the smock from her waist. “Quite fair,” she recognizes, handing her the apron. “Come along then, we may begin with preparing vegetables for the children’s supper.” Cassandra leads her across the threshold, until they find themselves in the kitchen. Several Loqoalans, from volunteers to fellow Masters, working diligently. “Everyone,” she bellows. “Rosaline is a friend from the North. She will be assisting us this fine evening.” Cassandra abandons all premise of formality, introducing her simply by her name.

[cassthecharitable]

avitejkumara​:

The horse was eating grass, and still breathing a bit heavily.  Avi realized they’d run it pretty far - or really it ran of its own accord.  Before he could stop himself, he patted its heavy neck, then Avi grimaced.  

“Stupid beast,” he muttered at it. At the campsite, he could make out Cassandra through the trees, gathered with her flock. They were speaking together in earnest, and Avi worried about her intent.  But he was only a sailor to her, nothing remarkable.  

He watched them intently.  If she knew who he was, despite what they’d just been through together, would she sell him out to these baby rebels?  She seemed disdainful of anyone who didn’t live in her modest fashion.  And she clearly loved these children far more than she would empathize with him, Avi was sure of it.  She would betray him if she knew who he was, Avi decided.  

They had to get out of here.  Or he did, at least.

It was getting close to evening now, and Avi clambered up some of the rocky hillside, to get a better look at the valley.  He stayed hidden, spotting other roving people around.  All of them rebels, no doubt.  The campsites were spread out, but this was definitely some sort of nest.  Avi decided he would get word to Prince Theodore, once he and Cassandra were clear of this.

She found him then, bearing a plate of tomatoes, carrots, and bread.  Avi picked up a carrot and crunched into it without hesitation.  He was starving.

“Only thirty miles,”  Avi mused.  “We could make it on our own, I could keep us safe.  I’m sure the port is rebel-run as well, but.  I don’t want your little lambs to get in any more trouble than they already are, Sister,”  Avi pointed out, with a glance towards the children’s fire.  He became visibly upset, losing his appetite the longer he stared at the kids.

“And they’re from Loqoala?  You’re sure of it?  From what, the north?  Joaquon? What…how did they end up here, in this unfavourable land?  Why couldn’t they stay in Loqoala?  What…”  Avi shook his head, hating the inevitable truth that the Priestess of Moruk would no doubt lecture him with.  He knew it was coming, he just already knew he wouldn’t like hearing it.  

“If they escort us to the port, you should convince them to stay with me.  They could join a crew, take to the seas and work a ship.  Learn and live.  Not…hunker in the middle of Elysi trees and dirt and…ice, waiting to die by some fucking Elysian rebel’s orders. Rebel or otherwise, Elysians don’t give a flying fish’s shit what happens to Loqoalans.”  There was no ice anywhere this late in summer, but Avi was becoming extra in his growing despair.  

“They don’t belong in this land. They belong home.”

-

Her scant eyes glaze along the shadows of the figures before them. By their shadow, they appeared large and intimidating. Upon closer inspection; however, it was evident that they were just boys. Barely seventeen, and alive with passion and idealism. Was Cassandra not the same? The Joaqoan clergy was her home since birth, but she had abandoned the institution to forge her own path. Granted, their path was one of violence and destruction. But she had difficulty reconciling where terrorism began, and where revolutionaries ended.

“It would be no trouble. I insisted that the Masters would encourage as many of our strong children to join the fray. Accompanying us would only make them appear strategic, by their superiors.” She catches the irony in her actions, lips quirking into a semblance of a smile. “Moruk will forgive my silent fib.” Cassandra quips, deftly plucking a carrot and taking a bite. She wipes her fingers against the skirt of her dress, the sour mood of the sailor beside her prevalent. Avi did not make much of an effort to conceal it, his words of criticism free-flowing thereafter.

Her lips are pursed, as she listens intently to Avi’s frustrations. With a patient nod, she allows silence to befall them before speaking slowly. “Do you know what some of the peasants and merchants call the rebels? Revolutionaries.” She presents informatively. “In some circles, they are mythic. Brave men and women fighting to bring liberty to the common folk. Now, you are right. Living and dying by the name of an unnamed, careless master is an unjust end.” Her gaze turns towards him, a pointed quirk to her brow. “But it is either this, or to be forcibly conscripted into the Loqoalan army.” Young boys with no families were often privy to such commands. After all, who cared if an orphan perished in pursuit of some haughty nobleman’s commands?

“At least here, they are fighting for a cause they believe in.” Cassandra shakes her head, saddened by the thought of it. “I raised them all. I was barely twenty, and these peasant boys sought refuge after a plague overtook the Illasqan island. I sung them lullabies and mended their tattered clothes. But, like all kids, they left to find their own way.” Sighing, her lips tighten into a line.

“My heart breaks to see that this is what they have chosen.” There were other ways to change the world. Less violent methods, certainly. “The love for one’s children is a specific type of heartache.” Pausing, she looks upon him. “Do you have children to return to?”

[cassthecharitable]

cressidalucero​:

A light chuckle left Cressida as she entered. Cassandra’s comment slightly surprised her. “Why would I say ‘no’ to help you?” Cressida replied as she neared, eyes scanning and taking in the other woman’s appearance. “Are you injured anywhere else?” She began. “Or is this all?” At the downplay of possible wounds, Cressida offered a quick, half smile. “Vanity or not, I’ve been requested and am here now. And that is what extra help is for.” Which fortunately for Cressida, she had. It was how she was able to leave her business in capable hands during her absences.

“Now, let me see if you are truly well. Are you in any pain?” Cressida sat beside Cassandra. “That cut - does it hurt? Has it caused you to see anything… odd? And rest. Have you slept yet?”

-

“Because you know, as well as I, that it was my fellow masters that beckoned you. Not I.” Her words were not filled with ire, but quiet frustration. Cassandra was never one for fuss. Something as menial as a head scratch and a broken wrist was inconsequential compared to Cressida’s other patients. Then again, it was likely a by-product of her pious nature. “This is it.” She relents, sighing apologetically. “Thank you for being here,” she corrects, her voice low as she places her healthy hand upon the nurse’s wrist. “Even if it was not my doing, I am grateful. I have not seen you in some time.”

“It is numb now, but sleep has alluded me since.” Cassandra answers honestly. “But I figure it has more to do with the past few days, than the bruise. You would know better, of course.”

[cassthecharitable]

vaerilthreshar​:

“Ivar was easy on me this crossing” he tells her with a soft smile, the seas were favorable, only a short time being rough waves. But he would travel no other way, if given a choice. Shadow-walking rarely felt like a choice, but a necessity. But still, he would miss the stars too much.

He wouldn’t admit that the rising fear of rebel forces caused a fear to rise in him.  He would never show someone that side of him, where fear smudged his senses. There were innocents in the world involved, and he would do everything he could do to ensure that the children in her care would be safe. “They’ll get theirs for dinner,” he tells her as he sits down in the sand next to her, “I can’t deny that I don’t have a soft spot for them. I brought extras just in case a few followed me here,” he tells her, a twinkle to his eyes

He’s happy she can sit and relax and enjoy the food, if only for a moment. She was wise enough to appreciate the small things. “Of course, my dear,” he says. The tight weave of the bag he stored them in kept them steamed, and warm, but they were wrapped in a protective layer of a warmed leaf. He takes a bite and sighs happily, “Another thing that I can’t replicate back in Ludwen.”

-

“They know of your tender heart.” Cassandra regards, a bright smile as the exquisite flavors overwhelm her palate. A praise for both his tutelage, and the acquisition of the treat in her hands. By Moruk’s will, she encountered Vaeril in her teenage years. At the time, the Masters of Moruk was nothing more than a vision set by an idealistic girl. It was nothing more than a tiny poorhouse, underwhelming and with little prospects. And while Cassandra could heartily claim the network as hers, Vaeril’s tutelage was second-to-none.

“I am surprised you made it here unfounded. They have strong wills and noses.” The tender joke was said with affection, with a hint of sadness. The children would not find such glee and desire, had their been more delightful meals in the poor house. But less extravagance, meant more could be housed and protected from the streets. “Thank you. I wish to say it is too much. But in these times, it’s exactly what they need. We recently lost one of our sister houses to a fire.”

Whilst chewing, she recalls her encounter with the pious half-elf. “Speaking of Ludwen, I was visited by the most pious of elder elves a few moons ago. He was in search of assistance. I did not recognize the struggle half-elves faces in your part of the world. Though, it is unsurprising. Poverty lives in all places.”

[cassthecharitable]

avitejkumara​:

…

“We’ll be alright.  Just gotta be careful,” Avi said, holding onto Cass’s smelly coat a little tighter as he assessed the valley before them.  He looked like nothing, and without her robes, so did she.  In one way that was to their advantage, because they could potentially slip through the various campsites, unnoticed.  ‘Were they all rebels,’ Avi wondered.  Or were some of them escapees from Glasswater, who flew north instead of south to the refugee camp?

They certainly seemed unafraid to light fires where ever they pleased.  Either confident in their might or that no one would find and attack.  Or inexperienced in hiding, and making themselves targets without knowing.

Avi wasn’t well-versed on the habits and customs of the mainland though.  The most time he’d spent in Elysi was in the Red Keep - and Avi didn’t mind when he was landlocked there, because it was all desert.  More like a sandy sea, than land.   Up here in mountains and tall trees, Avi was quite literally out of his depth.  He wanted to find the ocean, as soon as possible.  Once he did, he could find his bearings.

“Just trot by as if we’ve got some place to go,”  Avi whispered, as they had no choice but to pass close by one of the campsites.  But to his surprise, Cassandra asked him to trust her.

“What?”  It was the most Avi could get out, before Cassandra was dismounting.  “Prie - Cass -! Ivar’s piss,”  he muttered, hopping off as well and following her to the campsite.  And idea. Trust her.  Well, at this point, he had no choice.  It wasn’t like he was going to ride off on that blasted horse alone.

It was children.  A group of them, some bearing mismatched armour and holding poorly crafted weaons.  Hardly bandits, this lot - not like the men who they’d just escaped.  But there was no doubt from the boy’s words, that they were, indeed, rebels.

Avi stared impassively back at Cassandra and the patronizing look she gave him, as if she was giving him some sort of sermon in a temple.  Some sort of lesson she was trying to impart on him?  He refrained from rolling his eyes, and instead just gave her a nod of his chin.  Go ahead, confabulate with your little lost lambs.

Avi just tugged at Cass’s coat first.  “Ask them how far away is the ocean,” he requested, before he turned and walked back out the way they’d come up.  He was no expert, but he had sharp eyes.  He had to make sure the men who’d been chasing them had not followed them to this campsite of children.  “Rebel babies…acha. Kata give me strength.”

-

There’s an inherent trepidation in the sailor’s voice, but Cassandra moved forward. She could not claim to know the intricacies of the political landscape. Often times, the battles of nobility and their revolutionaries were inconsequential to peasants. But she knew these boys. She was both sister, and mother to the Loqoalans. Whatever their loyalties or proclivities, they would not harm her.

She meets Avi’s insistent eyes, a whisper of ‘okay’ escaping her lips. His back turned to her, Cassandra watches as he returned the way he came. Far be it for her insist he stay. It was for the best, really. The boys, in all of their warmth, appeared wary at the sight of the strange man. With a muted expression, she settles along the lit fireplace. An hour passes, as they ask of the Illasqan shelter and speak of what brought them to the cause. A sense of purpose, a brighter future... It was a testimony to the broken strands of their world. But she carries on, adjusting and speaking fondly, before she learns of the best way to return to the ocean.

After collecting a plate of food (raw vegetables and a loaf of bread), she bids adieu to her comrades and trecks up the way she came. Catching sight of Avitej, she comes down and takes a seat beside him. “Here,” Cassandra gestures. “The ocean is thirty miles East. We are in the Northern mountains of Glasswater. There is a small, trading port by the ocean. A few, smaller ships passing through to deliver barley and other necessities.” She informs him, her Loqoalan boys ever talkative. “There are a handful of campsites moving East, but they offered to escort us until we are in the clear.”  The passive lie regarding her allegiance for a ‘new tomorrow’ garnered their respect, and her pleas were met with resounding agreement. There was little they would not do for her. “Once our horse has rested, we can begin our journey home.”