Cade's Inbox

[onlyhymns]

[For personal threads, memos, things left in his quarters for him to stumble on, confessions of love, injunctions, jars of bees, and so forth.]

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[onlyhymns]

[Cade hesitates, watching the floor, thinking. He hates to dredge up these things, because they represent a part of himself he doesn't understand: a ruthless part, a wild animal with no understanding of rules or limits. Every time he has to remember them, he has to identify the behavior as his own. And remind himself that everyone else associates it with him as well. Like a rabid dog or an insane person.]

I, um. Remembered, [he murmurs, gripping one wrist self-consciously.] And nobody got. Really hurt. [He winces at the memory of Beleth bleeding in the snow. Squeezing his eyes closed, he taps his fingertips together a few times before continuing.]

...she attacked him, [he restates, confusion in his tone.] I wanted to protect him. It's what we do. [Finally, Cade glances to Gwen's face, with a look as if to say 'right?']

[elegiaque]

( Gwenaëlle exhales very slowly. Sweet Maker's mercy. )

It's how you've been trained to see what she did, ( she says, a deliberate reframing that is not agreement, if not unkind either, ) and how you have been trained to respond.

( She's careful not to be harsh; )

You understand that the Inquisition relies on the goodwill of the people in order to function effectively.

[onlyhymns]

[Deep inside, some tiny piece of Cade takes umbrage with the woman's tone; she's talking down to him, like he's simple or a small child.
But there's so much noise. Racing thoughts, flashes of emotion, constant fear. A much larger piece assures him that he deserves every ounce of disdain he receives, for doing a bad job, for having no control, for being weak and soft and eminently unable to manage the tasks he's given. For wasting all the time and effort poured into him by those at the Abbey and everyone after.
Why would anyone speak kindly to him? He hasn't earned it. Kindness is for people who are good.]

Yes, [he answers quietly, focusing on the floor once again, folding his hands.]

[elegiaque]

( She relaxes.

--very slightly. Not entirely. She's alone in a room with a volatile man who she can't entirely predict, and she'd be stupid to mistake his current timidity for harmlessness. In the back of her mind, she drills herself on the motions that Coupe has trained her with on the abilities of her shard.

Still; it is incrementally promising. This doesn't have to be a fool's errand. )

People have spoken to you before me, haven't they? ( At this point, she pours the tea; not the cheap kind the Inquisition is often limited to, but her own personal stock from Orlais. ) I'm going to guess louder and sharper. They've told you you're wrong, but they haven't explained why, or they've not given you something else to do. They gave you a desk.

( If he thought she sounded disdainful of him, Gwenaëlle is not impressed by the way he's been handled to this point. )

[onlyhymns]

[Cade doesn't answer, but he doesn't seem about to jump into action, either. He continues to sit and stare at the floor, defeated, until Gwen describes a good portion of his interactions. He frowns at the floor for a moment longer, then responds by pressing his face into his hands, fingertips knotting in his curls. He knows this isn't an answer, and that she'll probably get irritated, as people do when he doesn't answer verbally or use their title. But there's nothing he can say to that, and the knowledge of his own uselessness is becoming too humiliating.
He nods faintly behind his hands, hoping she'll go away.]

[elegiaque]

( She doesn't get irritated. She's already irritated, but somehow Cade wears the least of it; she pushes the second teacup toward him, for him to take or not, as he prefers. She sips her own. Finally; )

Your training is the problem. ( This is a bit more frank than she was a moment ago, but she's still choosing her words carefully, trying to avoid the pitfalls she can guess others have already fallen into. ) The Inquisition isn't the Templar Order - it has different needs of the people in service to it. It needs different things from you that you've been insufficiently prepared for.

That isn't your fault.

( She wonders how true that is. It doesn't matter; she's already said it, and hopefully it will help. )

It isn't your sole responsibility, either. I have a proposition for you. Would you be willing to be retrained by Ser Coupe? She is -

( this is the hardest fucking thing she's ever done )

- an exemplary demonstration of what the Inquisition needs in Kirkwall now. And she's willing to help you become that as well.

[onlyhymns]

[Well, she hasn't gone away yet. Cade is intent on staying in the dark a little bit longer, but lowers his hands when he hears mention of Ser Coupe. He looks now at the tea, but doesn't touch it; he's not sure he could imbibe anything right now without vomiting.

After considering for a moment, he nods, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. He's worked with Wren. It wasn't as bad as it could have been.]

[elegiaque]

The Inquisition's ability to act - here and everywhere else in Thedas - depends on maintaining its reputation. There was grace in Skyhold; news traveled slow. The narrative was ours to control. That's no longer the case for us here in Kirkwall. Word will travel both quickly and creatively.

Regardless of our personal feelings and opinions -

( An exhale. Not enough people, she suspects, talk to this man like they expect him to understand what they're saying. )

Ser Harriman, it doesn't matter who was right. It matters what people believe. If too many people believe that the Inquisition can't be trusted, then it won't, and everything we do here fails. When they come with questions, we need to have answers for them and they need to be good answers. This happened because people expected things of you and gave you no way to deliver them. A good answer is that you're undergoing training now to understand what those expectations are so you can appropriately fulfil them.

[onlyhymns]

[More training, more of the same, people expecting things that he can't deliver... it doesn't sound at all preferable, but what choice does he have? Cade doubts even Andraste gives a shit anymore, and he's devoted his life to her.
His chest pangs with the knowledge that so much of everyone's reputation rests on him, and that he wants none of it. Not anymore. He's tired, of being wrong, of getting talkings-to like this one, of having to be repurposed or retrained or reassigned every few months. It's his fault, but it's exhausting.

Still, he nods. His desolation is too deep for him to argue with Gwen, and he's not sure he could anyway.]

...then they won't execute me?

[The question finds its way out. He doesn't even know if she'll know, but he knows it's been on the table for a long time, and has had it in the back of his mind ever since. There was a point when he would've even been all right with it, but now... he was just starting to get the hang of things. Beleth would be so embarrassed to know him.]

[elegiaque]

( She wants to say no, but she's already made promises in this conversation for other people, and she knows that that one might be far harder to hold to. )

I can't promise you it won't come to that. What I can promise you is that there will be voices speaking on your behalf - my own among them. Executing you does less than nothing about the real damage that's been done here. It serves the people who set you up to fail in the first place, it doesn't serve the Inquisition.

You have to be willing to work with Ser Coupe. You have to be willing to set aside what you've been taught and learn something different and swallow your pride because the Inquisition is more important than all of us singularly. You have to be ready to apologise if that's what's required of you, or to stay out of it if it isn't. If we can show that something is being done, that this isn't going to be another case of giving you a stern talking to and then hoping you miraculously learn to read minds, it'll be a lot easier to fight it.

[onlyhymns]

[The fact that she can't promise it, that it's still a distinct possibility despite this conversation, sucks all the remaining wind out of Cade's sails. Sure, whatever. That other stuff probably matters.]

I'll work with Ser Coupe, [he says, hoping that formalizing it in words will somehow make it real. His hands have begun to shake again, though he tries to keep them still.]
I'll do what has to be done.

[It was so easy in the abbey: the kids who acted out got a switching and everyone went on with their lives. Of course, he'd never had one. He was good then.]

[elegiaque]

Ser Harriman -

Cade.

( She puts her hands folded on the table; a compromise. She'd want to be reached for, in his position, but she isn't him and she won't pretend so much intimacy with a man she's met fleetingly, the once. )

I am going to do everything in my power to ensure the best possible outcome. I'm not asking you to believe that a perfect stranger has your best interests selflessly at heart - I'm asking you to believe that I understand the importance of the Inquisition, and that the best outcome for the Inquisition is you made a more effective member of it. Not your death.

All your death says to anyone is that the Seekers accept they failed. And I don't want that to be how my cousin is remembered by the people of Kirkwall. I know it's not as touching as if a friend of yours came here with an impassioned speech about protecting you, but my way gives you the best chance. Please be willing to meet me halfway.

[onlyhymns]

[He does, deeply, want to be reached for. But if someone did, Cade wouldn't know what to do with it, so Gwen's restraint is appreciated. Resting his elbows on his knees, he folds his hands over his mouth and takes in the sight of the woman's hands on the table.
When he looks at her, there's a glimmer of desperation in his pale eyes. Though wordless, he pleads for respite; a year ago, he'd have fought tooth and nail to be kept in the Templars. Now, he just wants peace. Just let it end.

Cade nods once more, and shows by his uncharacteristically held eye contact that he understands, and is invested. He's not good with words, but he knows when to say yes.]

[elegiaque]

( Gwenaëlle, of all people, understands what she's looking at. It pricks at her - she wishes she had something better to offer. That she could tell him he was cared for. That she could tell him she knows he won't be executed for other people's failures.

She's given him honesty. It's cold comfort, but it will have to do. )

If you need to speak with me for any reason, I've a crystal or Ser Coupe knows where to reach me. And I'll tell you this -

I'm neither very patient nor very nice. I'm not a bleeding heart, and I hate having my time wasted. I don't take on anything I believe to be a lost cause. You're not, ( very clearly, as she rises, her own cup empty but his and the teapot left for him, ) a lost cause.

[onlyhymns]

[Honesty is all he can hope for, at the moment. Cade nods a final time, looking uneasy at how pointedly Gwen explains herself, but her message isn't lost on him. Perhaps her words won't convince him now, but at least, if someone impatient and not very nice says it, she must believe it.]