#cassander inteus

[redwayfarers]

not to me, not if it's you

wayfarer. mc/melchior larkspur. set post game. gen, 1,7k words.

Settling down is not a new practice for Melchior. He did, long ago, many a time; he welcomed family and descendants that way too. It is not a bad thing, everything considered. He’d simply forgotten the little details of it. Thankfully for him, he now has someone to pass his knowledge to and thus revise. 

As to the receptiveness of his pupil, well, he cannot say there’s nothing to be desired. It’s hardly Cassander’s fault, though. Being born magiani in a world and a culture that despites your very existence does not yield itself to a lot of domestic bliss. 

“I halfway expect to die in a fight or something,” Cassander says, once. He doesn’t look all too pleased with the world that day. These moods strike him, like an oddly built mechanism, in a way Melchior has yet to decode. “This domestic shit feels unnatural.” 

“Unnatural?” Melchior raises his eyes from the manuscript he’s working on to pointedly stare at him. 

“Yeah! It’s like I’m waiting for a roof to fall over my head, or to trip on my own fucking sword and bleed out in the kitchen! Is this how you people with magic are all the time? Peaceful? Sounds like a fucking scam, that’s what it is. You’re scamming me right now.” 

Melchior knows better than to take the bait. Cassander is simply looking for a fight to calm his nerves. “You can always leave, if that’s what you’d prefer,” Melchior says calmly. 

Cassander huffs. “Work’s scarce. By the time I find any you’ll be who the fuck knows where and this thing between us? Scattered to the wind. Dead and buried. Only fond memories until we both live out our remaining centuries.” 

Melchior stares still. “And do you want that to happen?” 

Cassander holds his gaze for a long time. He taps his fingers on the table, trying so hard to sit still under the onslaught. At some point, however, he drops his hand fully on the table and presses until his nail beds turn pale. “No,” he says, and his voice breaks. “It’s just that– Fuck. Why am I like this?” 

Melchior sighs. Cassander isn’t looking at him, shoulders bent under the weight of his own head. Hair shadows his face against the bright daylight that reflects against the gold in his long ears. Parts of  the tattoos covering his arm hide with him, yet the brightness of the roses on his forearm catches attention. 

Almost enough to make Melchior miss how his shoulders shake. 

Chair creaks as he rises, settling the papers that rustle when his hip catches on them. His slippers make no sound when he rounds the table and comes to stand by Cassander’s side. With a gentle hand, Melchior removes hair from Cassander’s shoulders; the curls, heavy and coarse, seem as ill equipped for such soft touch as Cassander himself. 

Cassander breathes a little cry-laugh. “I’m trying to be miserable here,” he says. “Stop trying to make me laugh.”

“That was not my intent,” Melchior responds. “I was trying to offer solace.” 

Cassander lifts his head and looks Mel in the eye, bewildered. “I know,” he whispers. “I don’t think solace will fix my head, but– Look, I don’t mean half the things I say, okay? Especially not– not this. You con people, sure, but you’re not playing with my heart, and here I am, accusing you of doing your job. No, that sounded wrong. Go scam rich people, I don’t care. Do your job elsewhere. I am not your job. I’m just an impossible to deal with fuckbuddy you keep around for whatever fucking reason and I’m making this even harder for you.” He blinks. “Not like that. Not all the time, anyways. I’m sure you’re not hard for me right now. That’d be weird. You’re angry, right? You’re probably so angry deep down but you’ve seen a lot of nutcases like me–” 

“Cassander,” Melchior says in a low voice. Cassander nods and looks away. “Go weave, or sew. We will talk later, after you’re not one hair’s breadth away from jumping out of your skin.” 

“That’s an order, boss?” Cassander says, in a strange voice. 

“Alternatively, you can kick something,” Melchior adds. He isn’t angry, not really, but he is starting to feel like conversations need to happen later. If today needs a boss, he will step up to the task. “No fights with the crew. We cannot talk when you’re like this.” 

“Got it,” Cassander says, frustrated. He stands up and marches to the door, playing with the tail ends of his hair. He closes them louder than intended; Melchior watches for a few more moments before he sits down again and rubs his face with his hands. 

It is true he is not angry, but he would be lying if he said these moods of Cassander’s didn’t make him exhausted. It is hardly Cassander’s fault, of course; no sane person would choose this kind of suffering. He doesn’t take any of the accusations personally, either. Were he younger, were his life less full of a senseless number of years, perhaps. Now, all he does is sigh deeply and rub his temples. 

He loves Cassander. When he chose to invite him into his life as a partner, he knew it would be through joy and difficult times alike. That same love makes it difficult to watch him struggle, but he knows far too well that Cassander needs to make the call himself. There are people who can help; he just needs to reach out. All Melchior can do is wait and pray. 

The manuscripts glare at him in an accusatory manner. He feels restless. He’s suddenly all too aware of the half-empty cup of tea Cassander had made him, and he downs it with a grunt. 

Someone knocks. 

“Melchior?” Kit’s head peeks through the barely open door. “We need you at the rehearsal. We can’t seem to decode one of the scenes.” 

Good, Melchior thinks. There’s work to be done before he can talk to Cassander properly. That’s good for taking his mind off things a little. 

***

Evening falls on their little troupe. Running a company of actors requires a lot of time and a lot of work, a work Melchior deeply enjoys, and time spent with his people, his friends, never a time wasted. 

However, his thoughts turn, ever so slightly, to Cassander throughout the day. Melchior hasn’t seen him at all since breakfast, and the troupe hasn’t either. He trusts Cassander can take care of himself; he’s a Wayfarer after all. His heart aches a little every time he remembers what had happened, but he brushes it off. 

It is, after all, temporary. 

Cassander finds him when Melchior retreats for a pause. His clothes are fresh, his hair braided away from his face, long and sad. There’s a bruise on his right hand. 

“No civilians were harmed in the making of it,” Cassander says by way of explanation. “I was trying to stick it to the wall. Sero taught me just how hard I can hit it before I break my hand.” 

Melchior blinks. “What?” 

“You never had wall hitting lessons?” Cassander tilts his head. “You never had a don’t rage at other people talk? It was either the wall or some unfortunate fucker. Lots of dwarves today for some reason.” He stops. “I don’t like kicking people while they’re down.” 

“Are you less angry now?” Melchior redirects the conversation and rubs his neck. “Will you bite my head off?” 

“Depends if you’re a dwarf,” Cassander says, in a joking voice. “For real, though, I’m not as on edge as I was today. I don’t know what triggered it, but I did feel like my skin was too tight and I figured talking to people further while I’m like this will just make me feel worse.” He sits on the bed and taps the place beside him. “Uh, I’m sorry about that. How you have the patience for me is beyond my wildest dreams. I would’ve kicked my ass out of here long ago.”

“Fortunately, no such luck,” Melchior responds. He looks at Cassander’s awfully bruised hand. “Where’s your medical kit?” 

“I can do it myself,” Cassander mutters and pouts. It’s unintentional, but delightfully adorable nonetheless. “It doesn’t hurt, it’s not as bad as it looks–” 

“I need your medical kit,” Melchior orders gently. 

“In the first drawer by the bed,” Cassander gives in, putting his hand gingerly on his lap. Melchior takes the kit out and sits beside him. 

“You sweet, poor man,” Melchior whispers and takes Cassander’s hand. He hisses a little when Melchior kisses the bruised knuckles. 

“What are you doing?” His voice goes a pitch higher, embarrassed. 

“Kissing it better,” Melchior simply says and opens a jar of herbal-smelling salve. Cassander doesn’t move his hand away, though he does hold it a little stiffly, when he starts rubbing it into tender flesh. 

“I’m not a kid,” Cassander says - whines - as he stares pointedly at his injured hand. “I can take care of it myself. Sirin taught me well enough–” 

“That I do not doubt, but let me take care of you. You’re not helping anyone by punishing yourself.” 

Cassander looks away. “Go fuck yourself,” he says, with no real heat. He huffs. “I– Fuck off. Just. You don’t– For fuck’s sake.” He sighs deeply and with feeling. 

“What happens when you love someone,” Melchior continues, gently spreading the salve, “is that you will have patience for them and not abandon them when it gets difficult. What happens is you take care of them, even on their bad days, even if they inconvenience you. Because this is a partnership, no?” 

Cassander is quiet. 

“This is a partnership, Cassander, not servitude,” Melchior repeats, massaging his fingers. “I welcome inconvenience from you because it means you are my equal, just as you welcome inconvenience from me.” 

“And the sex thing?” Cassander sounds strained. He flexes his hand.

“That is sex,” Melchior replies. “Relationships are more than just sex. If I ever make you feel like you are not cherished, I trust you’ll tell me.” 

Cassander lets out a chopped breath. He pulls Melchior closer and buries his face in the side of his neck; his eyelashes, wet with tears, tickle Melchior’s skin. 

Melchior puts the salve down and wraps his arms around him, lets his hands rub Cassander’s back and buries one of them gently, yet firmly in his hair. 

One mistake does not make the lesson less worthwhile. 

[sunshinemage]

All my OCs enjoy a good kiss, platonic or romantic, but Cass would love to be friends with Oya and show them his affection if they let him 👀

they'll let him because he's way too charming for his own good ❤️

[just-eyris-things]

My Wayfarer playthrough in a nutshell, featuring @ladamebrunette 's Cassander because I love her sonboy

(Based on those tweets that I can't find now)

[i-mybrunettelady]

Blorbo gang's now complete! He's not really a new face, but I refrain from yelling about him a lot on main. He has a whole sideblog for that. What I will do is just make a little post that explains his gw2 backstory!

So without further ado, introducing... Well, Cassander!

Cass is Mordrem; he was one of the few saplings that awoke from a Blighting Tree deep in Maguuma who wasn't entirely independent of Mordremoth, but had some form of free will from him. That tree didn't produce many saplings, a mere four of them, and like their mother, they too had more of a control of their own. Some found it to be a tool of resistance more than others.

For the majority of his life, he never strayed from his birthplace, though he wished to many times. His Tree was not a very motherly nor pleasant one; he was deeply unhappy under her thumb (branch) but wasn't sure if there was a place for him out there. But when the Pact launched their campaign against Mordremoth, he saw a chance and turned his back, in spite of his grandfather's forceful call, to his fellow Mordrem and aided the Pact as much as he could.

He was notably present in the aftermath, when he helped Warmaster and scout Aisanne Bjornsdottir look for missing Pact soldiers. Now finally free of both Mordremoth's and his mother's influence, he remains untethered to either the Dream or the Nightmare, as his sylvari cousins on either side cannot unsee his Mordrem-like fangs and slightly clawed nails. The Soundless turn him down as well, uneasy about the presence of an open Mordrem in their midst.

So he wanders Tyria, with no place to call home, a loose Pact agent in everything but name, trying to reforge his identity in a completely new world.

Look at my son <3

[redwayfarers]

this post screams cassander to me

is your oc chronically single? do they want to be?

[kemsyne]

No one stands between Vestrans and orange-scented things.

(Not confirmed in canon. Not yet 🤔.)

Cassander Inteus @redwayfarers

Aeran and Wayfarer IF @idrellegames

[srslyarts]

first treat for the @wayfarer-exchange featuring @ladamebrunette Cass aka local best haired man 😌

[redwayfarers]

✨️ Cassander but this time he's a Sero/Ioadinnis ✨️

For my birthday gift I commissioned @fawllyn to draw my most special son's modern AU/Blood Moon design! Because I port him just about everywhere and he needs that design versatility 😇

And Fallyn did such a good job!!! His face sparks so much joy!!!! Thank you so much for this, it's amazing and I will stare at it for the next month

[redwayfarers]

I am also putting this here for posterity but Antivan accent Cass!! The little melodic lilt!! I don't share my Cass voice AUs over here often or at all, but I do think he sounds an awful lot like Daniel Balavoine when he speaks and that he does have a Greek accent so the way that Zevran speaks in DAO absolutely fits that melodic lilt :>

6, 9, and 10 for the veilguard asks :3

Ty for dropping by <3

6. Do you have your Rook(s) planned out to any degree? If so, would you share some details or ideas you have?

I don't wanna plan in advance too much, as I don't know the deets yet and I don't wanna get attached to an outcome just yet, but given my love of Zevran & interest in Antiva, I am very likely going to make a Crow (maybe for that sweet, sweet Lucanis bird romance) or a Lord of Fortune (because I don't have a pirate OC + Rivain.) I am also thinking human, elf or Qunari because I'm not really a dwarf person. Here's a little post about potential designs!

That being said, if all else fails, I might be porting my... IF MC-turned-blorbo-turned-babygirl Cassander (who some might be familiar with since I yell about him all the time over on @redwayfarers and there's a lot of moot/interest crossover) into a half-elf bastard of a human noblewoman, who she absolutely loathes (as per Cassander lore) so she sells him to the Crows. I absolutely love placing him in saving the world situations because he's the worst type of hero even if he isn't a bad guy. He just wants to live his life, dude. Also a Lucanis bird romance. Bisexuals stay winning.

(For any crossover moots, this is my chance to feature more human-looking Cass, as well! Think this but with pointed ears :>)

9. Which romance, if any, do you plan to pursue first?

*looks at prev answer* ... Birb husband. Davrin is a close second, and then Taash... But Lucanis... Been yelling about him since the trailer dropped, really.

10. Which location are you most excited/hoping to explore in-game?

Answered here!

[sunshinemage]

Cassander Inteus for @ladamebrunette 🧡❤️

[just-eyris-things]

Fish lesbian. Horse bisexual. And Cass. ( @ladamebrunette )

[i-mybrunettelady]

He has his turquoise scarf! And I have another virtuoso <3

[astraphone]

give in to what i can’t disguise; cassander

y’all know the drill: a @wayfarer-exchange treat! this time it’s for @ladamebrunette and her wonderful wayfarer Cassander Inteus. 

It’s been less than a week since Cassander woke up on the Dareia after almost dying in Rona, and the man is testing Aeran’s patience like no one else can. (Aeran would much rather skim past the almost dying part, but true to form, he can’t forget. He can hardly close his eyes without seeing Cassander unmoving on the Count’s villa floor, as if he needed more fodder for nightmares.) He’s clearly still in pain, should very obviously be resting, and today he’s insisting on sparring.

“I can’t get out of practice now,” he’d insisted when Aeran had voiced his concerns. “Imagine arriving in Velantis only to discover, in front of a legion of guild mages, that I’ve gone so long without any sort of exertion that I’ve completely forgotten how to fight. Humiliating.” 

“Who cares what they think?” Aeran had asked, and Cassander had shrugged. 

“Certainly not me, but I do have a reputation to uphold, you know.” 

So here they are, despite Aeran’s better judgment, sparring on the deck of the ship. Aeran has been taking it as slow as he can without letting Cassander realize--he’ll never hear the end of it if he does--but Cassander’s injuries are clearly far more prevalent than he’s been pretending. He’s already out of breath and visibly struggling to stay on his feet.

“Let’s break,” Aeran calls, but Cassander’s expression is one of exhausted determination. 

“No.” He advances on Aeran with renewed vigor, which lasts until he stumbles on the approach and goes sprawling towards the deck. 

Aeran, who had been expecting something like this, catches him easily, and lowers them both down together.

“Let’s break,” Aeran says again, more insistently, and this time Cassander doesn’t argue. 

“Fuck me,” he says instead with a grimace, and Aeran sighs as he watches him attempt to scramble up into a sitting position. 

“You’re hurt, Cassander. You’re not doing yourself any favors by not fucking resting.”

“I’m not doing myself any favors by wasting away below deck, either.” 

“It’s been a week,” Aeran says with all the patience he can muster. “You aren’t wasting away, you’re recovering. You’re allowed to stop sometimes, you know that?” 

“Am I?” Cassander mutters. 

“You are,” Aeran says firmly. “This whole situation is fucking terrible. I get it. But you’re just going to hurt yourself again, and I--” He stumbles over his words, but he forces himself to press onwards. “I can’t watch that. Please don’t make me.” 

Something softens in Cassander’s frustrated gaze at that, and instead of continuing to try to get up, he leans back against Aeran’s chest. “I guess I can wait a few more days.” 

“Thank you.” 

Cassander shrugs, and this time when he looks up at Aeran there’s an absolute shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s not all bad, though. There are worse people’s arms to collapse into.” 

Aeran feels his face turn bright red as Cassander laughs. “I--you--shut up.” 

He loves him. It’s a relatively new realization, and it sends a shiver down Aeran’s spine every time he thinks it. Gods be fucking damned, he loves this ridiculous man. Cassander will be safe, Aeran promises himself. He will do whatever it takes to make it so. 

[joy-fires]

if it's not taken, 7 for Cass :eyes: - @ladamebrunette

his hair was so much fun, so wavy

@wayfarer-exchange

[i-mybrunettelady]

Let's go! This year has been fairly productive, kiddo creation wise <3

Kosara Severbone (she/her), alt AU commander. Blood Legion revenant, Priory magister. Twin sister to @uselessidiotsquad's Vissenta Severgrace. Hopelessly in love with her Tribune. Former weird kid who grew up to be able to wack people, but prefers not to do so anyways.

Eirene Featherscorn (she/her), exiled and partially icebrooded Owl shaman. Daredevil-deadeye. Jormag's former scout. Wants to make amends for her betraying the Spirits she revered all her life, all while dealing with soul-crushing loneliness her status as an exile brings.

Kassandros of Dusk (he/him), my raid kiddo. AU of one of my key OCs, Cassander Inteus. Here, here is a Mordrem that turned on his own and helped the Pact bc he never had much love for Mordremoth or his Mother Tree anyways. Helps with raids after the end of the Maguuma campaign and explores Tyria, all while trying to find his place in the world. Doesn't help when you're obviously Mordrem in a world that doesn't like Mordrem, though.

Not that anyone ever needs a reason to post their characters, but I know some people get inside their head and squirrely so here you go, community prompt: Show off characters you have created this year! Go!

[redwayfarers]

I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

i am still on the floor over this cassmel kiss i got from @sunshinemage ;;; tysm rory, you are once again a WIZARD and i will stare at this forever and cherish it