"I may need to desperately insist you work not in the front lines but behind them, for reasons I will explain in full. Not as an insult to your capacity, but because I wouldn't dare put you at risk for a fate worse than outright death."
An eyebrow raised, not a challenge but a measurement of Cassandra's commitment to it.
"I don't necessarily object to a position of greater safety," Cassandra says cautiously, "but regardless, should this become a genuine possibility, I would want to know more details."
A pause. "Or sooner, should you be minded to share them."
As though recalled to their surroundings, Cassandra glances around the teashop, from the spring sunlight filtering through the curtains to the scented steam wafting up from their cups, and gives a small sigh.
"This is pleasant. I don't do this kind of thing nearly often enough."
"Take a bit of time off, or go out to be utterly frivolous with friends?"
The sparkle in her gaze says she's guessing both. Despite the difference in their ages (something Fever can only theorize about) Cassandra sometimes feels older than her for how she takes on the world.
"Both, honestly." She smiles, picking up her teacup. "As you might have guessed. I think the last time I did anything truly frivolous was going shopping with Okie at the casino last autumn."
Cassandra laughs. "Well, there was the dance in spring, but -- I don't know, that sort of thing doesn't feel frivolous exactly. It's an important social responsibility."
A pause. "At least it would be at home. I suppose it doesn't matter that much here."
"It matters some, but not as much. If there wasn't responsibility attached, I wouldn't have gone to that dance myself. But no one would have taken it as a blight on my reputation."
The only person who had really forced her to go, thinking about the Court and how an absence would ruin the procession, was herself.
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not_the_last) wrote2025-01-01 12:51 am
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An eyebrow raised, not a challenge but a measurement of Cassandra's commitment to it.
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A pause. "Or sooner, should you be minded to share them."
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She shrugs her shoulders - it's Cass's choice in the end, but it's not a good story no matter how many details she cuts out.
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As though recalled to their surroundings, Cassandra glances around the teashop, from the spring sunlight filtering through the curtains to the scented steam wafting up from their cups, and gives a small sigh.
"This is pleasant. I don't do this kind of thing nearly often enough."
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The sparkle in her gaze says she's guessing both. Despite the difference in their ages (something Fever can only theorize about) Cassandra sometimes feels older than her for how she takes on the world.
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Forget work for an afternoon, they're going to have a bit of fun, for a change of Cassandra's pace.
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A pause. "At least it would be at home. I suppose it doesn't matter that much here."
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The only person who had really forced her to go, thinking about the Court and how an absence would ruin the procession, was herself.
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And adds almost as an afterthought: "It was fun, though, wasn't it?"