sarabi (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sarabi) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2020-09-08 09:14 pm
sarabi) wrote in bakerstreet2020-09-08 09:14 pm
Entry tags:
[ Definitely the one being guarded. ]
[ He would hate it but he would definitely be the one being guarded. ]
[Probably the bodyguard. Or it's very unclear who's actually guarding who.]
[ oh my gosh, would you accept a weiss? ]
[Definitely the one being guarded. M/F but OTA for castmates and people I've threaded with before; AUs, assumed CR, canon, and crosscanon all welcome]
[ not only is he your bodyguard, he's also your cook and your back-stabbing grand vizier loyal advisor too! ]
[Sebastian as the bodyguard]
[Alice's paranoia has reached a peak, and she's finally decided to use some of the money she's accrued with her good fortune to hire herself a bodyguard. Today, she's supposed to meet Sebastian over brunch, to see if he's going to be compatible with her.
She's seated alone at an outdoor table at a local cafe, the sort that serves mimosas and bloody marys (maries?) for Sunday brunch, waiting for him to arrive for the interview.
Of course, given that he's a demon, he probably recognizes from the very moment he sees her that she's surrounded by volatile luck. Not always good luck, but definitely strong luck.]
ooc: I've seen you voicetesting and been really shy about tagging you. I'm canon-blind, but let's see what we can make happen. Also, if you prefer prose, feel free to flip in your tag.
She's seated alone at an outdoor table at a local cafe, the sort that serves mimosas and bloody marys (maries?) for Sunday brunch, waiting for him to arrive for the interview.
Of course, given that he's a demon, he probably recognizes from the very moment he sees her that she's surrounded by volatile luck. Not always good luck, but definitely strong luck.]
ooc: I've seen you voicetesting and been really shy about tagging you. I'm canon-blind, but let's see what we can make happen. Also, if you prefer prose, feel free to flip in your tag.
( most likely the one being protected. )
( could be either the protector or the protected. open to f/f with castmates. )
(( most probably the protected ))
( Always here for this one. Happy to have her in either role. )
[ooc: Most likely the guarded, although she is capable of being the guard.]
[ooc: the guarded]
Edited 2020-09-09 19:14 (UTC)
There are moments when Cassandra finds it very difficult to forgive her brother. He is the eldest, now. This responsibility should be his. Only Percival, Pelor bless him, runs rather than stands. Abandons her on a very regular basis. (She loves him. She does. He is her brother and her last remaining family. But he still hurts her, deeply, every time he does.)
A lot of those moments that are difficult to forgive involve political events. (Politics at all, really. Pelor, she hates politics. She might be very good at it but she does not enjoy it.) Galas. Soirées. Forced hobnobbing. Small talk. All fake smiles and pretence. She’s at one such occasion now, dressed to the nines in a gown that looks like molten blue silver and doing her best to go unregarded and unnoticed. A skill she’s cultivated not necessarily by choice, but one she will put to use when needed.
(There are beats to the ways that people watch each other, and if you’re clever enough, and you know what to look for, you can pass between attention spans and go unnoticed no matter how busy a room is. And Cassandra is very, very clever.)
Whitestone is, fortunately (and unfortunately, in some respects), not well known outside their small corner of the world. What they produce is, although only to a degree. (Residuum is spoken of more than Whitestone itself.) What she’s not known for at all although she does it rather well is the gathering of intelligence. Information. (What happened with the Briarwoods will never happen again if she can help it.) So she is able to wend her way through the gala relatively easily and unrecognized. Although the shock of white in her hair draws attention that the recognition or lack thereof doesn’t; at the very least looks and whispers from the more... gossip-minded in attendance.
And there are always the gossip-minded in attendance at events like these.
She holds a glass of champagne in one hand, not drinking as she keeps to the outskirts. As unaware as she is of any threats to her lingering in the shadows, she is rather aware of something else. SomeONE else. Following her. It’s subtle, she’ll give them that. But she’s onto them.
So Cassandra wends her way through the art hosted by this gala’s venue, paintings and statues and pottery. Slowly. Casually. To see if she can lure her shadow out.
A lot of those moments that are difficult to forgive involve political events. (Politics at all, really. Pelor, she hates politics. She might be very good at it but she does not enjoy it.) Galas. Soirées. Forced hobnobbing. Small talk. All fake smiles and pretence. She’s at one such occasion now, dressed to the nines in a gown that looks like molten blue silver and doing her best to go unregarded and unnoticed. A skill she’s cultivated not necessarily by choice, but one she will put to use when needed.
(There are beats to the ways that people watch each other, and if you’re clever enough, and you know what to look for, you can pass between attention spans and go unnoticed no matter how busy a room is. And Cassandra is very, very clever.)
Whitestone is, fortunately (and unfortunately, in some respects), not well known outside their small corner of the world. What they produce is, although only to a degree. (Residuum is spoken of more than Whitestone itself.) What she’s not known for at all although she does it rather well is the gathering of intelligence. Information. (What happened with the Briarwoods will never happen again if she can help it.) So she is able to wend her way through the gala relatively easily and unrecognized. Although the shock of white in her hair draws attention that the recognition or lack thereof doesn’t; at the very least looks and whispers from the more... gossip-minded in attendance.
And there are always the gossip-minded in attendance at events like these.
She holds a glass of champagne in one hand, not drinking as she keeps to the outskirts. As unaware as she is of any threats to her lingering in the shadows, she is rather aware of something else. SomeONE else. Following her. It’s subtle, she’ll give them that. But she’s onto them.
So Cassandra wends her way through the art hosted by this gala’s venue, paintings and statues and pottery. Slowly. Casually. To see if she can lure her shadow out.
[More info on journal, but imperial elven prince (or emperor, if he's taken from after he's ascended the throne). Certainly the guarded.]
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