Her brows are furrowed as she listens to his apology, not due to a lack of understanding but rather because she finds such words unnecessary. If anyone should be saying sorry to her, it should be Varric, but that conversation was done. Over. While she had started to develop a certain fondness for the dwarf, she knew there were many matters they would never seen eye-to-eye on, and this was simply another one of them.
An unkind part of herself wonders whether Varric had been right, wonders if she'd had friends she'd understand the steps one might take to protect them, but there's nothing to be gained by nurturing that speculation. She didn't understand, and she doubted she ever would.
"It does," she assures him, as she tries to weave some thread of meaning out of the events that had led them to where they were today. "Perhaps he knew you too well. Knew you would agree to meet me." Cassandra knew that she would be furious, in Hawke's position, to have decisions made for her, but she was learning, slowly but surely, that not everyone in Thedas was exactly like her.
And thank the Maker they weren't!
A small smile curves upon her face once more as she continues. "I was not expecting such a sound examination of the castle's defenses. I will have to pass your comments on to the Commander." They certainly could be made use of, she thinks, especially if they encounter more Maker-forsaken dragons. The smile fades slightly as she hunches her shoulders awkwardly; she feels as though she ought to clarify her previous question.
"For what it's worth, I was asking on a more... personal note. That is, have people been treating you well? Are you accommodations suitable?"
Maker, but she is bad at this. These conversations certainly are more the Ambassador's forte.
Hawke blinked. "Oh." Then gave a short laugh. "For the most part, yes. There were a few double-takes and long stares when I first rode through the gates, admittedly. I'm not sure if they expected me to implode on the spot or turn into a dragon. But Varric did well in keeping most of the keep blissfully unaware of my presence. Particularly the mercenaries who are now working for the Inquisition."
He gestured down the parapet, silently inviting Cassandra to walk along with him. "And other than being dismally cold, perpetually damp, and woefully underfurnished, my guest room's just fine. It's private, thankfully, so there's not much chance of random folks just dropping by for a visit." But his smile belied any real complaint, and he added, "Believe me, after being on the move for more than a year now, any sort of quarters are heavenly."
Hawke snorted lightly. "I'd even be grateful to bunk down in the stables, if it came to that. Provided the horses could tolerate my snoring."
But he gave Cassandra a speculative glance as they strolled along the battlement. "Although I do appreciate the concern, Seeker, what's your real reason for asking? Or are your queries more academic than sincere?"
Cassandra blanches when Hawke asks her about motives; she hadn't intended to be so obvious, so transparent. With a quick shake of the head, she does her best to dismiss any notions of ulterior motives. "I am not here on official business," she assures Hawke, as she begins to stride alongside him, in easy acceptance of his invitation.
She huffs lightly before continuing. "Is it so wrong to want to learn more about a man who I've heard so much about?" A man she had worked so hard to find, she wants to say, but decides that is better left unsaid, perhaps even goes without saying at all. What she cannot help but add, however, is a mild jest.
"If you do decide you would prefer to bunk down in the stables, you may have to fight it out with Warden Blackwall. I do believe he is already quite established there."
Her quip actually made him laugh, his humor, though tired and worn-slap-out, coming through with astonishing ease. "I think I'll hold off on declaring war on the Wardens, Seeker, but thank you anyway." Blue eyes sparkled beneath the mop of dark hair. "He can have the stables. My tower is comfortable enough."
Her curiosity wasn't so totally out of place, though. So many people had read Varric's book; it still astounded him how far the tales had spread. And while the dwarf had taken a few liberties here and there, he'd gotten most of it exactly right, much to Hawke's never-ending sorrow.
"Well, what would you like to know?" Blinking, Hawke realized that he'd inadvertently set himself up, but what the hell? It wasn't as if she were going to behead him now. ...was she?
"Tell you what, my lady, let's fetch up with a few barrels of Skyhold's good ale, a quiet corner in which to swill it, and I'll answer whatever question you ask." He paused, then added, "...er, within reason, of course." Surely spending a little time in good company - and somehow attractive company - wasn't frowned upon around here, was it?
She is surprised at the mage's easy offer, but not displeased. Perhaps she should not be so astonished; according to her sources (the book and straight from dwarf's mouth itself), the Champion had always been a personable fellow, the type to collect a ragtag group of miscreants and drag them across the countryside.
It amuses her, to think of herself as one of his followers. At first, she offers only a huff in response to the question, but after another moment or two of consideration she smiles, more easily than she had expected. "All right. So long as it's the good ale."
The Ambassador would understand. If anything, Josephine would be delighted to hear that Cassandra is making connections, which only strengths her resolve to not let the other woman find out about it. Not that there's any real point in trying to keep secrets around the hold. The walls have ears. Leliana's ears.
There's one more point which she feels the need to clarify. "And," she begins sharply, "you promise not to call me a 'lady' again." She might be seventy-eighth in line to the Nevarran throne, but she'd like to not be reminded of that fact, thank you very much.
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no subject
Date: 2020-06-14 01:16 pm (UTC)An unkind part of herself wonders whether Varric had been right, wonders if she'd had friends she'd understand the steps one might take to protect them, but there's nothing to be gained by nurturing that speculation. She didn't understand, and she doubted she ever would.
"It does," she assures him, as she tries to weave some thread of meaning out of the events that had led them to where they were today. "Perhaps he knew you too well. Knew you would agree to meet me." Cassandra knew that she would be furious, in Hawke's position, to have decisions made for her, but she was learning, slowly but surely, that not everyone in Thedas was exactly like her.
And thank the Maker they weren't!
A small smile curves upon her face once more as she continues. "I was not expecting such a sound examination of the castle's defenses. I will have to pass your comments on to the Commander." They certainly could be made use of, she thinks, especially if they encounter more Maker-forsaken dragons. The smile fades slightly as she hunches her shoulders awkwardly; she feels as though she ought to clarify her previous question.
"For what it's worth, I was asking on a more... personal note. That is, have people been treating you well? Are you accommodations suitable?"
Maker, but she is bad at this. These conversations certainly are more the Ambassador's forte.
Still, she cannot deny herself her curiosity.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-15 01:36 am (UTC)He gestured down the parapet, silently inviting Cassandra to walk along with him. "And other than being dismally cold, perpetually damp, and woefully underfurnished, my guest room's just fine. It's private, thankfully, so there's not much chance of random folks just dropping by for a visit." But his smile belied any real complaint, and he added, "Believe me, after being on the move for more than a year now, any sort of quarters are heavenly."
Hawke snorted lightly. "I'd even be grateful to bunk down in the stables, if it came to that. Provided the horses could tolerate my snoring."
But he gave Cassandra a speculative glance as they strolled along the battlement. "Although I do appreciate the concern, Seeker, what's your real reason for asking? Or are your queries more academic than sincere?"
no subject
Date: 2020-06-20 11:43 am (UTC)She huffs lightly before continuing. "Is it so wrong to want to learn more about a man who I've heard so much about?" A man she had worked so hard to find, she wants to say, but decides that is better left unsaid, perhaps even goes without saying at all. What she cannot help but add, however, is a mild jest.
"If you do decide you would prefer to bunk down in the stables, you may have to fight it out with Warden Blackwall. I do believe he is already quite established there."
no subject
Date: 2020-06-20 08:18 pm (UTC)Her curiosity wasn't so totally out of place, though. So many people had read Varric's book; it still astounded him how far the tales had spread. And while the dwarf had taken a few liberties here and there, he'd gotten most of it exactly right, much to Hawke's never-ending sorrow.
"Well, what would you like to know?" Blinking, Hawke realized that he'd inadvertently set himself up, but what the hell? It wasn't as if she were going to behead him now. ...was she?
"Tell you what, my lady, let's fetch up with a few barrels of Skyhold's good ale, a quiet corner in which to swill it, and I'll answer whatever question you ask." He paused, then added, "...er, within reason, of course." Surely spending a little time in good company - and somehow attractive company - wasn't frowned upon around here, was it?
no subject
Date: 2020-06-27 11:37 am (UTC)It amuses her, to think of herself as one of his followers. At first, she offers only a huff in response to the question, but after another moment or two of consideration she smiles, more easily than she had expected. "All right. So long as it's the good ale."
The Ambassador would understand. If anything, Josephine would be delighted to hear that Cassandra is making connections, which only strengths her resolve to not let the other woman find out about it. Not that there's any real point in trying to keep secrets around the hold. The walls have ears. Leliana's ears.
There's one more point which she feels the need to clarify. "And," she begins sharply, "you promise not to call me a 'lady' again." She might be seventy-eighth in line to the Nevarran throne, but she'd like to not be reminded of that fact, thank you very much.