Who: Cassandra & Leliana What: Old friends catching up over drinks. When: Right when Cassandra made her debut. Where: Standard reputable bar Rating/Warnings: Mentions of illegal activities. Status: Complete!
A beer sounded like the best way to start her time in Orange County, especially a beer with an old friend. Cassandra had some intel to share, and hopefully Leliana had some as well, but mostly she wanted beer with a friend.. Maybe she’d even share where she got the scar on her cheek, though knowing Leliana she already knew what had happened in Uganda.
She arrived at the bar, looking around to get it’s layout and assess any threats, before she grabbed a corner booth where one or the other of them could see all the exits. Then she ordered a pitcher of beer.
It wasn’t the most pristine kind of place, no - but Leliana was used to it. She was a lady unafraid of getting absolutely filthy, even if she stuck out like a sore thumb when she entered. Her sweet face, bright hair, twinkling eyes. Though her clothes were dark, woven by shadows almost; conservative garbs that made things easy to conceal.
“A pitcher, I see?” Two seconds was all it took for Leliana to hone in on her old comrade, with her grumpy face and harsh eyes isolated in an empty part of the establishment. “When you wanted to get beer, you were certainly not joking.”
“A little bit of indulgence before I won’t have the time,” she explained. “Though we should nurse it, regardless. One can never be too careful.” Cassandra gestured to the seat across from her. “Sit, before we share too many pleasantries.”
Well, she could certainly drink with the best of them, though beer wasn’t usually her selection of drinks. Leliana preferred the fermented flavors of wine or the crisp flavors of something sweet and fruity. Time with Logan forced her to stomach it, even like certain ones.
Leliana picked up the pitcher and poured them both a glass after taking a seat, legs crossed over each other. “Cautious as ever, no?” A coy smile slipped across her face. “The scar. Suits you rather well. It is attractive, actually.”
Cassandra’s cheeks might have tinged a little, even as she made a ‘tch’ sound. “I am not attractive. I got it in Uganda.” She still wasn’t sure how she’d survived. She’d woken up with Jane on top of her. Shepard had taken most of the blast. Mysteriously, they’d both been bandaged up. After a moment, she begrudgingly said. “Thank you.”
“You are very welcome, my dear,” she responded, leaving the exchange of gratitude purposefully vague. Leliana went on to nurse her beer, then, as she wouldn’t let it go to waste in the slightest. Not the best taste, but she could keep drinking. “And what brings you around these parts, hn? Seems like suddenly everyone I know has been attracted to this place like a moth to a flame.”
Or perhaps Leliana simply knew too many people. She made connections rather easily despite the kind of work she did; it helped keep her from spiraling into some bloodlusting monster, empty and void of herself.
“Business. Some old business, and some new business, but I think it it all related.” She could be frank with Leliana, even if she might not always be able to discuss cases in detail. “I don’t know how long I’ll be in town. What do you mean, drawn here?”
Here by convenience of situations. Leliana knew what that was like - Orange County wasn’t going to be a permanent thing. It wasn’t supposed to be, anyway. No place was. She didn’t think it’d be any different here, despite the how utterly peculiar this place proved to be. “Ah, I mean--” A wince. “It’s merely a funny coincidence, I suppose.”
She didn’t know if Cassandra would dream anyway. Leliana wasn’t ready to break her in quite yet. It was best to wait and see, no?
“Since when do you believe in coincidences?” An almost smile flit across Cassandra’s face. “There are no coincidences that cannot be explained.”
“Touche, dear Cassandra,” Leliana giggled, the sound like wind chimes singing in the breeze. Nothing was ever a coincidence, she did strongly believe that - everything had a reason, a purpose, a lesson. The hand of a higher will, the Maker, she was sure of it. It was a new kind of theology introduced thanks to the dreams and it made sense, sung and radiated through her bones. Every part of the Chant of Light that she remembered was like a step closer to home.
There was still much to learn, much to remember, but she’d written down as much as her memory allowed. “I see you have been speaking to Norana, by the way. Why did I ever think you two already knew each other? I should introduce the both of you, in person.”
Cassandra would embrace that, should she ever dream. She had, after all, been searching for a faith since her days in school. “If we have crossed paths, it may have only been for a brief time.” Though she was the kind of person to always remember a face. “You do have many little birds that sing for you.”
“I do. I must introduce you to the local ones,” Leliana chirped, a smile splintering across her face. Naga came to mind, mostly - the loudest one, though very promising, especially with the gift of magic that the dreams so fortunately bestowed on her. “Perhaps they can be of help, should you require it? I am unsure of exactly what business brings you here, but I can make a couple of safe assumptions.”
Those baby blues of hers tightened into a knowing look, sent to Cassandra from across the pint glass.
It would probably serve her well, especially with some of the people she needed to hunt down. She hoped she could finally nail Ganon to the wall. She hoped she could shut down this new syndicate that had moved into the area - they’d been really troublesome when she was in Tokyo.
“Someone we have tried to nail, before. And an enemy of his, as well. I am beginning to wonder if we can have them wear each other out and move in to pick up the pieces, but too many people might get hurt in the crossfire.”
“I may have a little whispers to share here and there, though I’m still waiting on confirmation for some things,” the redhead alluded, legs crossed with a foot bobbing in the air. Leliana’s taste in footwear hardly changed - she’d been wearing sleek stilettos that could be used as weapons in an instant. Actually, they probably were designed to even be a weapon, knowing her. “Did anyone else come with you, or are you on this on your own?”
Cass took a look at those shoes, then made a disgusted noise. That was one of those things that she never could understand. Not about Leliana, or Josephine, or anyone else. Shoes. The weapon part though, she could respect, if she ever saw them in action. “It is just me, though I intend to make contact with Shepard. I understand she retired here. According to some of my sources, she is not exactly retired.”
Shepard. A name that crossed her desk a couple times, certainly, and Leliana had to squint in thought to rack her memory. “The marine?” Sounded about right - redhead, wasn’t she? Cindy and Garrus were well acquainted with her and she’d seen her in passing through the entire crime debacle. “She seemed quite active during our previous wave of unfortunate events - this area was hit rather violently by multiple groups. We have handled that, and the rest have dispersed out of state.”
“Yes. She was who I worked with in Uganda. I thought she might have some leads here I could follow up on. Perhaps there is a link, perhaps not, but it is something to pursue at least.” Cassandra poured herself another glass. “We always talk about business. Why is that?”
“Perhaps because we work too much, and our lives center around our careers?” mused Leliana, lips tilted into a smirk. Saying the truth outloud made her empty her glass much quicker, and she immediately went for another helping. “Making time for a personal life - it can be very difficult.” That was putting it lightly, but she’d do her best to keep her connections - Bela and Cindy and Zee were a couple on top of the list. “Unless you have managed to have one? And if you have - do tell! Something a little normal would be a pleasant change of pace, oui?”
Her friend wasn’t wrong. Cassandra did work too much. Relaxing and winding down were things done rarely, and then only guiltily. Like romance novels. Which no one may ever know she reads. Anyone finds out Cassandra is a romantic? They’ll die.
“The last time I tried to leave the house and act normal was months ago. I got set up on a date.” She grimaced. “Disgusting little man.”
“A disgusting little man? Do tell.” Now Leliana was very interested. The thought of Cassandra on a date, well! It was certainly adorable, and she shifted from her sideways sit on the chair to focus completely on the woman across, elbow plopped on the table while her palm held her chin. “I am very interested to hear all the sordid little details. You cannot tell me you want on a date and then not elaborate, my dear friend.”
Part of her believed in love, despite how jaded she’d become. Marjolaine had been her first - sometimes really her only love - and that was a tale that ended in betrayal and knives in both their backs. Quite literally, actually. Logan had been fleeting but passionate. She cared for him, a great deal, but it wasn’t really love. Not how she felt with Marjolaine.
Or the Warden, in the dreams. If she’d ever come across a Maia Amell she’d raise a cautious brow, but the Leliana that existed in Thedas was smitten. And at peace, mostly - thanks to the Chantry, to Dorothea.
“What sordid little details? His nose was too small and his eyes were wide and he sweat a lot. He did not know how to keep his hands to himself. So I broke one.”
She took a swig of her beer, then decided to keep going. “The date before that. He was nice.”
Cassandra just being Cassandra caused the redhead to burst into a fit of hysterical giggles. She had to lean back some, breathe in a gulp of air, and once she was confident she wouldn’t laugh again and spit up beer, she took another sip. “Poor little man, I suppose. But it seems like it is simply that - just dates, nothing serious. Do you ever plan to do anything else, that would make you settle down?”
Wrinkling her nose, the cop made another trademark disgusted noise. “Why would I want to? I travel around too much. My job is dangerous. There are plenty of other women out there that would make someone happy. That would do domestic things. Life is not like a romance novel.”
“Settling down does not always equate to domesticity,” she pointed out, noting her friend’s defensiveness. “It is natural to crave something normal sometimes. Something other than dancing with people that exude cruelty, playing the game of words and deceit.” An art Leliana was quite skilled in, actually - she’d learn from the best, her darling Marjolaine, may the bitch rest in peace. “I am just looking out for you, you know.”
Lifestyles like theirs took a toll, clearly. It changed them. It especially changed her - Cassandra had been more used to the Leliana that attended church and played little pranks and giggled at everything and sung every morning at the altar with those beautiful vocals of hers. Now her life had been dedicated to solving everything by slicing someone’s throat and letting them bleed out, her face the last thing they’d ever see.
Dying in the company of a seductress. It truly was a good death, wasn’t it?
“And what about you? Will you always play your dangerous game? It will catch up to you some day. There might be a time when I will be unable to protect you from the law.” Sources were important. It was a fact of anyone who worked in law enforcement, but sometimes the life line ran out, and Cassandra didn’t want to see her caught in the net.
Leliana snorted, that eerie sneer crossing her face, stare squinted into something a little devious. “Darling, I can assure you, I have enough protection. I know enough filth about those who put in those very laws to tear their empire apart - they will keep a blind eye from me, as long as I continue to take care of the targets they do not want their names associated with.”
Secrets were weapons of their own, and they could cut harsher than any blade, burn a hole deeper than any bullet.
“Just pray that some day, something does not bite you in the ass.” When you lay with snakes, you risked getting bit. It didn’t matter how much venom you had in your fangs, sometimes. Cassandra wondered if she herself was going to end up bit.