#cassie [ sharpteethandwidegrins ]

[thereismoretomylifethenice]

“You’re not what I was expecting.” ( Cassie @ Hans if the other one doesn't work out // sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins )

Hans had barely had a chance to put his hat down when Cassie made her greeting. Fixing a curious eye on the young lady, he wisely took a second to decide how he wished to address that statement. It was such a strange way to begin such a delicate conversation that he wanted to make sure his response was something appropriate. Admittedly, he had expected to speak the first words of this conversation so Cassie jumping the proverbial gun was a bit disconcerting. If he had spoken first, he would have been able to control this whole conversation. Still, if anything could be said about Hans Westergaard, he was a master of adaptation. Removing his hand from his hat, Hans bowed toward Cassie. Perhaps the manners were too courtly for the youngest of thirteen sons born to a nouveau riche railroad tycoon, but he had always found them to be very popular with young ladies. Young ladies enjoyed being wooed as if they were in one of the fairy tales, and princely matters worked very well into that impression. “Miss Roosevelt,” he reached forward to take her hand, and kiss the back of it lightly, “A thousand apologies that I did not meet your expectations on first sight, but I do hope to soften your opinions during future encounters. Perhaps I will be more pleasing on your second or third glance.” He offered her a smile, “May I say, however, that you are also not what I was expecting? Despite all of your father’s flowery prose, and descriptions, you are far, far lovelier than he ever prepared me for. For a brief moment, when I first came in, I thought Aphrodite herself had descended to Earth, but I had to dismiss that idea. I’m hardly the kind of man that a goddess would present herself too.”

[dixoniisms]

“you sure you’re okay?” ( Cassie, maybe? If you want? I'll get to replying when I can! // sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins )

➵ "yeah, 'm good." daryl scrunches his nose a little, looking down at himself before he looks over to her - head tipping to the side ever-so-slightly as he picks his crossbow back up. "you good?"

for @sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins's cassie

[avictimofthejazz]

Face’s smile grew slightly pained before he abruptly shoved that emotion aside. He hoped Cassie did not see his moment of weakness… that would not do for his pride. Granted, it was nearly as bad as Hannibal or an enemy spotting it—but it still made him uneasy. He did not appreciate instinctive human emotions trying to slip through when he least expected it. Besides, there was something about being vulnerable to a priestess that made him deeply uneasy. Even if she served Mara, that did not free her from being nosy and trying to pry things out of her—or trying to, anyways. Cassie’s thoughtful comment about his statement prompted a shrug from him.  “It can be helpful… but it also means that I had little guidance. I did not get the luxury of knowing who my people were, and allowing that to direct my life. A touch of direction is nice, sometimes.” There. That was as close as he was going to get to a soft admittance to her… or so he thought. Her question about a role model surprised her enough that he had no handy, pat answer. “Well…” he hesitated, “There was a man… before Hannibal. He was a priest in the Imperial City. He didn’t serve the Divines—he was with a small, new religion. But he took me in as a boy. He gave me a place to stay and food to eat. Father O’Malley taught me how to be a good man, even if I don’t live up to his lessons as well as I could.” It was an awkward confession—the very thing he was trying to avoid. Face had a sinking feeling that Cassie would not let that comment pass. She was always aware of these little weak spots. Not in a cruel way of course, He suspected it was part of being a priestess of Mara. They were sensitive in a way many other people were not.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.” He assured her before teasingly adding. “And I have never known what it is like to have one, so we’re even there. I imagine you were fond of your father? A least a bit?” There. He had turned the question back on her, hopefully buying himself a few minutes of freedom from the dangers of self-reflection at her hands. He would enjoy that sensation while it lasted.

Aah… there it was. The kernel at the center of the glum mood that currently settled over Cassie. She was still happy in her choice of vocations, but feared that someday in the dim and distant future, her satisfaction would waver. Face trailed a finger around the rim of his wooden cup, the texture barely tangible through his callouses. “That’s always a possibility, I suppose… but why worry about it now? That’s the future, and if it does happen at all, it’ll happen years from now.” A faint trace of irony underscored his expression. He was one to talk. All he did sometimes was internally worry about the future, what his place in it would be, when his friends would tire of his company, how long they would want him around, when the Imperial Legion would find them, how long they could keep up this mercenary stunt of theirs, what would happen if the group started splintering through death or changing fortunes… He was sure his friends debated some of these ideas too, but they never sat down and talked about it. It felt like doing so would invite ill luck down on all their heads. Still, the concerns lingered and grew larger in the evening shadows and darkness. Maybe Cassie’s unease was catching—he had certainly not been so insecure even a few minutes earlier. Then they started talking about this, and it felt like all his vulnerabilities were suddenly leaping out of the woodwork to settle over his spirit like a wet blanket.   In a mood to shake off the unnatural chill setting over him, he snagged his cup back up and took a healthy swallow of his drink. As he did, Cassie tried to shift the discussion back toward him. Any other conversation topic would have been welcome in this awkward moment… but right now, the last thing he wanted to talk about was himself. An unusual change, perhaps, but he lacked the energy to present any kind of front to the young woman. That made him uneasy.

“Of course, I have!” he forced cheer into his voice, as if her statement was a bit funny. “Most of it was of my own invention of course. One of the benefits of not having parents is that I get to choose who and what I want to be. Besides, I think every person has the right to invent something about themselves. Where we come from should be considered a starting point on a map, not a shackle chaining us down.”

[fourcornersarizona]

@sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins​ for Cassie

Bringing another load of plates into the kitchen, Inez casts her eyes upwards toward the stairs as another burst of raucous noise comes from the main saloon. Everyone was certainly in fine form tonight… but what could she expect when Mister Buck Wilmington himself decided it was a night for celebration? What he was celebrating, she had no idea… but apparently, he got everyone in the bar in line with his idea and they were having a fine time. “Es una casa loca allá arriba,” She muttered under her breath and crossed herself as soon as her hands were empty, “Dios tenga misericordia.”   The night would end in a few hours, and quiet would overtake her saloon again. In the meantime, she and her assistant Thomas could keep everything going. At least she had someone to help her in the kitchens now. Cassie might as well have been straight from heaven, an extra set of hands to handle the dishes and help keep the hot food coming upstairs. Inez had no interest in letting the young woman work in the saloon proper though. Cassie was a young, pretty girl, and nearly all her patrons are rough men. Cowhands, gun slingers, traveling merchants, the occasional gambler or outlaw… all of them pass through town at one point or another. The Seven (as the town affectionately called the town’s defenders), kept everyone in line but Inez had no interest in borrowing trouble. Cassie, like many other girls, could be too easily led astray by men who have no interest in her well-being. If she is going to meet a young man, she will do much better meeting them anywhere else in town except the saloon.

“How’re you doing down here, Cassie? Do you have everything you need?” Inez inquired as she wiped her hands on a towel and made her way over to the stove. Most of the demand for food had faded several hours earlier, but she had been keeping plates warm for Thomas, Cassie, and herself. The food would be welcome after this long night. “This should be the last load of supper dishes.” Satisfied that the food was keeping well, Inez dipped a ladle into the bucket of drinking water and took a sip. “We’ll have all the glasses of course, once everyone leaves for the night, but I’ll help you with those. Thomas says he’ll lock up and do the final sweep after we shut down for the night.”

[thereismoretomylifethenice]

“We don’t have to be in love, but maybe we could be friends.” ( Cassie @ Hans // sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins )

@sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins

Although arranged marriages were merely a fact of his social class, Hans Westergaard could not confess to being thrilled by this agreement with the Roosevelt family. For his twelve brothers, his mother had arranged brilliant matches. As ruthless and precise as his father, she wasted no time in selecting marriages that came with numerous advantages for his ambitious family. There were no such attractive features with the Roosevelt family. They were merely nouveau riche; hardly an interesting claim to a man in his position. Of course, the fact that his own family owed their current standings to his great-grandfather’s clever exploitation of opportunities mattered little to him. A great-grandfather who murdered his cousin for the throne was part of the natural evolution of power. A man who happened to make money selling medicine was just a businessman. Hans knew he could not complain too much though. After the disaster in Arendelle, he was fortunate that his mother arranged anything for him at all. While Hans’s father had tacitly agreed to his plans to usurp control of the small nation, rewards only came with success. When he failed miserably, and the only thing preventing a war with Arendelle was Elsa’s preoccupation with undoing the damage caused by a deep freeze in July, he quickly became the family pariah. In his father’s world, something as dramatic as the Queen of Arendelle freezing her entire kingdom during a panic attack should not have deterred Hans from succeeding in his goal. The fact that he very nearly did succeed hardly mattered to his father. There were no trophies for ‘almost’ or ‘just about there’ in this world. Perhaps, though, he could turn Miss Roosevelt into something useful. With a bit of time and some polish, he might be able to pass her off as an equal to any other woman his brothers married… and perhaps a bit better. A refined, clever wife could act as an open door to a man whose own prospects for social advancement were rather dim at the moment. But if she could make useful friends and connections, he might be able to take advantage of that. Cassie’s rather naïve statement, perhaps the first full sentence she had managed since they sat down for this excruciatingly awkward tea, internally gives him reason to have confidence in his plan. Her words reek of inexperience, and that was something else he could use

On the surface though, eager to not let the young lady read his whirling mind too easily, he offered her a charming smile over the rim of his teacup before setting it down on the tea table. “Is that all you wish for, friendship? If we’re going to be together for a good many years, I feel we should try to aspire toward something more interesting than that. Unless you’ve got other commitments and calls on your emotions, so friendship is all you can spare right now?” he teased her lightly. 

[thereismoretomylifethenice]

Cassie’s awkward moment with the tea tray, the noise uncomfortably ringing in the parlor, only caused Hans’s eyes to glance in that direction for a second. Then he returned his full attention to the brunette. So maybe a bit more polish would be required then he had first thought… but still not as much as he would have had to use on Anna. Cassie, at least, was not a socially awkward disaster of flailing limbs, stumbling sentences, and clinging onto anyone who would show her a modicum of attention. Even as a lonely child, he had been taught very clearly that being clingy was unwanted social behavior. No one liked desperation, and such behavior would quickly be dismissed by most. Cassie, at least, seemed to have a measure of decorum, and had clearly not been allowed to run wild in a castle for over a decade. This boded well for his plans.   Pretending to ignore the mishap with the tea tray, he tilted his head as Cassie gathered her thoughts and chose to speak. “Why don’t you call me Hans?” He gently suggested. “I think we’re a bit past formality at this point, especially if our parents get their way.” The rest of her sentence was absorbed, and he seemed to mull it over before neatly supplying the answer he figured she most wanted to hear. “I find I am inclined to agree with you, Cassie—may I call you Cassie?” He checked with her quickly before proceeding with his statement. “As I was saying, I do agree with you. Arranged marriages are, of course, a matter of convenience and social mobility, but they do not have to be unhappy affairs. A well-planned arrangement pairs two people uniquely suited to get along with each other, and build a pleasant family situation. Of course, friendship is a key ingredient in this, as it creates a motivation to get to know each other better… and friendships can only be built on trust. Everything else—all those romantic notions—can always be built up too. There is no law stating that people cannot be friends, and find themselves falling in love after a suitable interval of time.” Unfortunately, Cassie’s romantic diversion had to bring up a discussion about trust. That would only inevitably lead to the elephant he knew was trying to squeeze around the edges of their conversation: his actions in Arendelle. He was sure the rumors had reached America by now, along with a few overblown descriptions of the events there. What, if anything, Cassie had heard, he had no way of knowing… but best to just bring the conversation around in that direction now. That way, he could pick a course that seemed natural in its own way, something that would not arouse Cassie’s suspicions. “I suppose that brings up a rather large question then, Cassie.” He took another sip of his tea before purposefully catching her eyes. “Would you be willing to trust me?” Such a blunt question, like something out of a romance novel, would likely catch her attention. It was akin to one of those saccharine scenes where the supposed hero wanted the romantic damsel to do something dangerous, and gave her a dramatic ultimatum that required a prompt decision on her part. Hopefully, Cassie would see his question in a similar light.  

( Cassie Roosevelt ; continued )

        𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, thinking to herself, stirring the sugar in her tea until the white powder melted into the hot liquid. That’s what she had to be in the Roosevelt home: quiet, unassuming, and unintrusive. She was meant to greet guests and make them feel comfortable until her father showed, allowing her to slink into the background as intended. A flower to admire, only to bloom when her father demanded. 

        Here, she would be no different. Cassie already had an array of suitors to choose from. Some were older, others younger, and only a few were the same age as her, but all were wealthy, yet none held the same status as the Westergaard family. All her matches were of similar social positions: new money, businessmen who struck gold at the perfect time. As a businessman, William knew how to be advantageous. He would not let an opportunity like this slip by, not willing to trade the chance to bring his family to royalty status. The Roosevelts already had many admirers, but this would cement their legacy.

        Hans was a handsome man. He has seemed polite and refined so far, and it was already an admirable start if he was willing to sit and talk over tea with her. She imagined she might have a chance with him. The advantages of this arranged marriage were not lost on her, but Cassie trusted her father wouldn’t choose a man that would lead her astray. Beyond his family’s money, he must’ve seen something in Hans that he failed to notice in the other men that asked for her hand. 

        Han’s comment made her blush. She drew in her lower lip, the edge of her cup clattering with the tea tray as she lifted it to her lips. Her stomach dipped at the disruptive noise. The warmth of her drink allowed her a moment to sit in her thoughts and douse the embarrassment stirring in her stomach. ❝ I- no, not at all. Well, Mr. Westergaard, I believe the strongest foundation of marriage is built on friendship and trust. ❞ Her cheeks were still rosy as she lowered her teacup with a gentle touch. 

        She knew a wife’s duty is to run the home and take care of the children. She could step into that role quite easily, but the heiress was still hung up on the childish notion of marriage for love rather than for convenience. It’s a tale she read in storybooks, believing in the idea of one’s true love for eternity at an early age. This might be arranged, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t find themselves to be friends with their expectations.

        She looked up at him, her pinky finger brushing over the handle of her cup. ❝ How do you view marriage, Mr. Westergaard? ❞

@thereismoretomylifethenice

[uncxntrxllable]

Jamie turned her head to look over her shoulder, pausing what she was doing for a moment to ponder what was said. She could tell it wasn't necessarily said to her, but it was spoken aloud and while she could have left it alone and pretend as if she heard nothing... She couldn't. It seemed like it was something that was bothering Cassie, but the answer really would depend on what sort of change she had in mind.

❝ I don't think so, ❞ She says, facing the bush in front of her to continue picking through and plucking the blackberries to drop them into a small woven basket. ❝ But it doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing, though. A lot of change could be for the better. ❞ Another pause, her lips pulled to one side. ❝ Even if that change is difficult to get used to. ❞

Jamie was thinking of herself when she responded, but what was she thinking about? Herself or someone she knows? ❝ What's on your mind? ❞ She asked, dropping some berries into the basket before sitting it down beside her, and she turns herself half way to see Cassie.

( Cassie Roosevelt ; open starter -- mutuals only )

        ❝ Is there such a thing as too much change? Where you become entirely unrecognizable from the person you were yesterday? ❞ Cassie asks this question aloud, but doesn't entail if she's speaking of herself or not.

[avictimofthejazz]

At the young priestess’s question, almost spoken into thin air rather then directed at any singular person in the inn, Face peered at her quizzically over the top of his glass of mead. Swallowing the mouthful of sweet liquid, he set the cup down on the table.

“I suppose there is…” he admitted, eyes focusing on the rim of his cup rather than the young woman across from him. “But it’s hardly something that we can prevent. Change happens constantly, whether we agree to it or not. Life has a habit of stretching us into new and strange shapes, until we barely know what form we are supposed to take.” There was a note of vulnerability in his tone that he hoped the young priestess would not catch. He had changed drastically since he was a young lad in the Imperial City. Even if he wanted to go back to being that person, he doubted it was possible now. He had gone too far from where he started, and as it was often said, there was no path back to his home. He merely had to make his home wherever he was now, and learn to be comfortable in the skin of the person he had become. Fidgeting with his glass, he directed his attention toward the firepit in the middle of the room, and the bard warming up on her lute. Any minute now he suspected a rousing rendition of some folksong would start up. Hopefully this graduate of the Bard’s College could actually sing. More than a few souls turned out by that supposedly esteemed institution were hardly bearable, leading Face to wonder what exactly people learned during their training there. At length, he found the words he had been searching for and even found a way to pronounce them without sounding too shaken himself. “What’s brought this mood on, Cassie? I thought you were happy serving Mara—you once said something to the effect that it was the best decision you ever made in your life.”  

( Cassie Roosevelt ; open starter -- mutuals only )

        ❝ Is there such a thing as too much change? Where you become entirely unrecognizable from the person you were yesterday? ❞ Cassie asks this question aloud, but doesn't entail if she's speaking of herself or not.