Post by Cressida Schade on Oct 5, 2017 11:02:36 GMT -5
Slowly walking down the path towards the castle, Cressida's mind was clogged with many thoughts, she knew why she was here, she knew what could happen, but she needed to end this foolishness, it gone on for far too long. Wearing her formal attire, which meant an addition of a white blazer and formal attire, even for a formal audience Cressida still chosen trousers. Seeing the sun fall as she got close to the castle, she wished that she could go somewhere else immediately, but unfortunately, odds left her without option.
Slowly entering the Castle, she kept her eyes forward, no time to look around, she needed to end what should never have started. How she was so foolish all those years back, she could never have guessed. Approaching the desk of the receptionist, Cressida silently wondered how many years she worked there, how many royals she served, but chocked the answer to four if she included herself.
Speaking in a hush volume, she did not want much records of her presence in Germany, or anywhere right now. "Cressida Schade, here on appointment for an audience."
The receptionist nodded as Cressida followed, not sure where things would go from here. Her fingers traced her cross under her cloak as she pondered what could happen from here, would this blow over after she's done, or would this be the end of her?
Standing in front of the door, she knocked twice before standing patiently, awaiting a response.
"Well, I could possibly be dead after this, hopefully it kills me before a Quincy."
The room remained silent through the day, except for the sound of an occasional squawk of Verdani and scribbles of a pen. Most of her day was slaving away on paperwork to keep herself busy from getting wrapped up from the negative thoughts that swam in her head. Today she would receive an audience from Cressida and she wondered what would be so important that the Schade needed to get an ear from the Queen.
She ignored the raven as she read the report on various clans. Again the bird wouldn’t stop its constant chirping and flapping about noisily. No matter how much she tried to focus intently on her reports she couldn’t drown out the obnoxious bird.
“If you keep that up you’ll never get out of that cage, Verdani.” Freyleif shot the bird a glare before climbing on her feet. Carefully the Queen stacked up some papers that she signed off on and placed them in a bin.
Freyleif felt the energy of the receptionist and the Schade before the knock even resounded. With a flick of her wrist, the doorknob rattled then slowly turned right after the rap on the door before slowly opening.
“Welcome, Cressida, please come in.” Freyleif greeted with a soft smile. Calmly placing her hands behind her back and interlacing her fingers. “How may I help you?” a nod of her head to gesture the Schade inside. Across the royal room squawked the white raven in his iron wrought cage with a small tree he perched on. The teen waved the receptionist away and she returned back to her duties with a quick bow.
Post by Cressida Schade on Oct 6, 2017 11:51:38 GMT -5
Seeing the door automatically open, Cressida was a bit surprised but she assumed that Freyleif did some renovations, Cressida guessed she probably would've done the same if she was Queen for more than a few minutes. Slowly walking three steps in, she bowed before the Queen. "My Queen, it is an honor to see you again." Standing up slowly, she looked at Freyleif with discomfort written across her eyes, she did not want to encounter Freyleif in these times, but Cressida has no other choice.
Cressida noted the bird, and figured that anyone would need some sort of ambient noise in such a quiet room, although Cressida silently admitted that a bird would just be a bit frustrating. "Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, I needed to seek counsel before, well, it's complicated."
Cressida spoke no lies, but complicated was not exactly the right word. She needed to tell someone, she had to, but her family would not lead to the appropriate responses, and Cressida felt that telling anyone in England, including her own sternritter would be dangerous. After all, if everyone knew what was going on, it could create a disaster. But that left not much room, she didn't exactly part with the american on the best of terms, and the Irish are uncertain characters. Which leaves Frey as the only one Cressida could potentially trust.
"You see, my lady, I need to disappear. For the last few weeks, I've been seeing a doctor, a Quincy doctor obviously, I thought the matter could remain private, but now it has hindered my abilities to perform as a Quincy. I figured you'd understand that I need to go figure out how I am going to proceed with this on my own, but I need to tell someone before, well, my father figures out I've been hiding this from him."
Shuttering at the thought of her father's anger, she knew that he'd be angry. She had to resolve the problem quickly. Under her cloak, her body tensed up as she grabbed her left arm, barely able to even look at the Queen from a sheer lack of shame. It was times like this where she wished she had a religion to believe in, something to seek forgiveness from.
A nod of greeting returned to the bow and Freyleif listened quietly. The white raven climbed down from his perch and began moving up along the bars that reached up to the roof of the room giving comfortable space for the single large bird. Its beady red stared at the green-haired Quincy with its head turned to the side and made a low chirp.
There seemed something complicated Cressida wished to share; a rather peculiar thing she had to discuss in person which showed her discomfort written on her facial expression.Freyleif gestured towards the white victorian sofa if Cressida so wished to sit down.
The Schade Lady wished to disappear and the blonde could only furrow her brows in thought at that comment - someone that had the guts to challenge Weylin now wished to disappear because of a medical problem and feared their own father because of said information she did not wish to share.
Without a word, Freyleif moved towards the right of the room towards a tray settling on a cart with desserts laying on some china plates with a teapot in the center. She wheeled it over by the sofa and poured the green liquid in the two teacups.
“I’m not sure what tea you like - it’s cold anyway, but feel free to have anything on this tray.” the food hadn’t been touched as it was mostly an array of cakes: a slice of angel food, german chocolate, cheesecakes, and red velvet. Besides, the cakes were caramel squares with vanilla sandwiched. She then moved in a slow stride, knee-high boots thumping softly on the embroidery carpet, then stepped on mahogany wood that surrounded the birdcage. Gently she brushed her finger along the underbelly of the raven and lightly pulled out a fuzzy piece of loose feather and rolled it between two fingers.
“You’re surrounded by strong individuals that are willing to help you, miss Cressida, there shouldn’t be any fear of your father,” Freyleif said, turning to face Cress with a small smile. “Running away in the shadows will make you even more vulnerable. So, what ails you? If it is something I can help you with then I am all ears.” a simple letter of wanting a leave of absence would have been good enough for her to sign off but wanting to see someone face-to-face was admirable enough. She rubbed the fluff of feather between her fingers a moment more before dumping it into the trash next to the iron wrought cage then unhooked the strings from her fur-trimmed mantle and tossed it onto her Queen sized bed with purple velvet blankets and pillows neatly lined against the western dragon carved headboard.
Post by Cressida Schade on Oct 7, 2017 22:45:29 GMT -5
Cressida was grateful for Freyleif's patience and generous kindness, after all that was what Cressida needed right now. Cressida knew in mind and heart that right now, she was at the most vulnerable position of all the Quincy. As Freyleif led towards the coach, Cressida slowly followed, letting the Queen sit before she did, almost like an automatic machine more than courtesy, but then again, that's how Cressida was raised, to be perfect.
Before she sat down on the coach, she took off her cloak and folded it vertically and horizontally and let her cloak rest on her lap. Her posture was tense as she was slightly hunched over, her hands folded as she felt like she was at an intervention, knowing very well that's what she needed.
Freyleif's words were of support, but Cressida felt no better for them, for they have no sway to Cressida thanks to a few words from a doctor. Taking a moment to analyze her thoughts and grasp of words, she soon figured out that her options were to tell the truth, or die. Not looking Freyleif in the eye, shame had the best of her, after all, a swordswoman should not ever have been so careless as to be where she was.
"I thank you for your generosity, but I am on a bit of a cleansing diet. For a while, after I returned to England from my time traveling the world, I have been seeing a doctor, a Quincy doctor of course. I was worried about something in the way, my reiatsu, it's no different then it was two years ago. I thought I wasn't working hard enough, training daily for ten years, but I wished I was right until I had the news."
Cressida was very hesitant to come right out with it, after all, why wouldn't she be? Her very pride was wounded, and that can possibly never heal in this lifetime.
"Freyleif, allow me to be blunt for a line of dialogue or two. What allowed me to face challenges no matter how vast or strong, was a singular belief. That no matter what, I'll always get stronger win or lose, and I will always strive for what's above me. That fact alone let me look Weylin Von Wolfstein in the eyes to challenge him long ago. Take that away, I'm dead already. "
Getting deeper, Cressida could only guess what Freyleif could interpret. At this point all Cressida was doing was saying that her supernatural powers were in jeopardy, she could feel her heart race as she had to go towards the truth, she herself knew that once the words left her mouth, there was no going back. She slowly turned towards Freyleif, trying to restore her typical straight forward side, but not even her borderline personality disorder could save her from something this deeply scarring.
"You know the spiritual organs, hakusui and sakusui I believe the shinigami call them. But anyways, I always thought that they could never, ever, be affected by my choices on earth. I'd always thought that my soul would get stronger but I failed to ask, how can it be harmed? Over time, somethings can. I'm scared my lady, I learned something scary."
Reaching inside her pocket, she pulled out a small plastic container with a white cap and a label on the side, shaking, she handed it to Freyleif with the label on the other side. It read the words
"Prescription, Cressida T. Schade, Vicoden 7.5/500"
Cressida declined the accommodations and Freyleif merely nodded and listened further to what she had to say. She tried to piece together the lack of growth until Cressida suddenly spoke her mind on her pride in facing Weylin on a single belief. An itch still lingered on Freyleif as she still didn’t understand that one event but merely let it go; the past was the past, and could only hope this Quincy could grow in other ways. For now, Freyleif continued to hold her tongue and get to the problem that Cress was facing; something that had gone wrong with her reiatsu that she had to take some sort of pain pills.
Taking the bottle with a curious observation, Freyleif rolled the medicine around to read its label and the doses. She rolled the Japanese names in her head a few times until she realized it was the important pressure points regarded by Shinigami supposedly. Sucking in a breath, the blonde contemplated a bit further - having not really understood taking pills of this kind and lingered her emeralds on the label a bit longer.
“You feel as if there is something tampering your spiritual energy or do you feel it is damaged that you cannot progress?” Freyleif inquired before taking a seat beside Cress and setting the bottle on the cart carefully. She let out a sigh and slowly fluxed out her spiritual energy to reach out and gently prod against the other Quincy’s soul. It was worth a shot to see if she could glean over anything that her spiritual energy might be giving off, she peered at the bottle one last time before eying Cress once more.
“Is that what the doctor suggested you take? Pain pills?” she gave a weak smile. “I may be able to help you if you give me the chance. I don’t see a logical reason to go away privately if you wanted to see me. But I digress, I might be overly worried over nothing.”
Post by Cressida Schade on Oct 8, 2017 3:12:05 GMT -5
Cressida sighed as she prayed that she wouldn't need to say it, she tried to avoid saying it. As Freyleif attempted to work techniques by reiatsu, feeling the presence of the queen. However the time for beating around the bush was now pathetically overdone. She swallowed her throat as she decided to connect the dots in the light.
"You have it right up until the last part, it's the other way around. The doctor didn't ask me to take it, he asked me, to, to..."
The last word to make sense, but she could barely continue as she felt a blade pressed against her desires. But she needed to talk, after all, the doctor did prescribe talking to a friend.
After Cressida finally admitted it, the reality finally started to sink in as she looked on the last half a dozen years of her life. Only after a doctor told her that she was almost too late did she notice her addiction. Stiffening her muscles, she tried to resist the tears, or any signs of breaking down, despite the fact that she was clearly shaking.
Taking a moment, she pieced herself back together so she could explain the story in depth, but truth be told, Cressida did not know how much time passed, it could have been a moment, a minute, it didn't matter.
"Six, six years, after an accident during my training-"
Cressida rolled up her right sleeve slightly and took off her glove, exposing the scars on her wrist, every time she looks she can still feel the whip crack. A grim reminder for Cressida to never fail to meet expectations.
"- when things got, elevated to meet the timeline. My father, after pressure and a bent arm hired a doctor on short notice, who prescribed me vicoden. Later own, barely a month later my gandmother, passed. I found Vicoden to be an escape, the shouting never bothered me ever again... When Celeste left, I was not in utter isolation. It helped with the pain. Helped me suppress the memories of my father abandoning me in a forest at a young age."
Cressida tried to remain steady, but she was about to break down.
"The doctor, said, he doesn't know what will happen, he doesn't know if my liver will break, my power, or my mind first. The doctor says that mind and body aside, I might not completely recover from this. I'm afraid, he can't speak for my ability to wield reishi as the stunt is not yet lowering. I live and die by my Hielig Klinge, the possibility that I may never recover is beyond belief."
A frown formed as the doctor had told her to stop taking the pain pills. She hadn’t, of course, known Cress for long to think she would resort to drugs to deal with her pain. The way she looked embarrassed to make eye contact and took her time to open all made sense to not want to go to the others for help in fear of judgment. Freyleif stayed silent still while Cressida stiffened and buried those emotions away.
For those few seconds, that flew by Freyleif took a moment to observe Cressida with a neutral expression. Those sparkless emeralds then moving to see the scars she had revealed and continued on with her story of being abused during training; this seemed to be a running theme among the Quincy clans in pushing their young to a breaking point. It seemed the Schade’s burned that pressure to the extreme. Freyleif suppressed a sigh and her own muscles stiffen at such a tale.
“Well,” she said finally. A soft exhale released before she continued. “I can give you a choice, Cressida, you can take it or run away to deal with your own fate or I can help you-.” she formed a smile before glaring over towards the raven that squawked loudly and flapped about the cage. “Forgive my companion, he is rather noisy and attention wanting bird,” Freyleif looked back with a sigh then reinforced her smile. “This is something I am willing to help you heal over only if you let me, if not me then those of the Order. I won’t force you but offer you those choices. If you just need an ear and advice, I will answer truthfully how you can push your own limits.”
She let Cress think that for a moment before standing up. The sound of her bones cracking when she stretched a bit and gingerly plucked up a caramel square and popped it into her mouth, the sweet treat just hard to pass up now. Her eyes closed a moment to relish the caramel melting in her mouth and reopened them to turn towards Cress once more.
"So, do you believe that your body will fail you once discarding off these drugs?" she asked calmly, emeralds boring into the blues of the other woman's. It was her choice now to take a path.
Post by Cressida Schade on Oct 9, 2017 13:25:07 GMT -5
Cressida could've guessed Freyleif's responses, she was not sure if it was the cravings or Freyleif's words were starting to irritate her. Offering her hand in help was a gesture that Cressida needed, but the question remained, how would she proceed. Analyzing parts of the situation she could feel her own mind attack her as thoughts became back and forth between what she could've done. The word heal bothered her as she realized several interpretations. Not even realizing it, she was scratching at her own scars as she thought of her mental heath.
"Physically my health will be better for quiting at this point, I might need a transplant in a few years if I continue."
However, Cressida wanted to get off the cursed drugs, however she knew that alone shouldn't be a reason to disappear, she hoped Freyleif would understand, she hoped she wouldn't need to talk about her fears. Truth be told, Cressida came to the castle looking over her shoulder, she was afraid, of revenge.
"It's not just the spiritual damage, tell me, have you ever let someone see you at your worst? That's a feeling I never known, I always had to be the prodigal child, so instead of processing emotions, I took vicoden. I don't know how much you know about drugs, but vicoden contains something called hydrocodone, a narcotic. Thanks to vicoden, I've been able to not feel many things."
Not even realizing she was bleeding, she eyed the bottle she dispensed earlier, pondering if she should take one of her few remaining pills, she hasn't taken one in a matter of two days. Addictions were hard to fight, thoughts got hard to form, decisions became impossible.
"If I might be honest, don't know what to do. I damaged a spiritual organ by mortal drugs, how the hell is that even possible? I don't even know if even I beat my addiction, heal my liver, if I can even evolve my abilities any further. Ten years of work and I ruined most of them by trying to hide what makes me different from a menos grande, emotions."
As blood traced her fingers, she grabbed the bottle and opened it, but froze right there. She didn't want to take one, but she did want to, she couldn't see what to do. Her eyes were almost to tears as she tried to resist. Taking a deep breath, she summoned reishi throughout her hand, blut arterie and crushed the bottle, breaking the pills inside.
"Alright, I'm going to hear out what you have in mind. I do have ulterior motives for wanting to disappear, but you need not concern yourself there."
Freyleif eyed the woman before her. A cold, hard, piercing gaze in those dull emeralds. What had the Quincy de-evolved themselves into to not trust others all of a sudden? For the longest time, Freyleif tried to boggle down the cause and only came to one conclusion: pride. Mentally she massaged her mind; the words of Weylin becoming all too true in ambitions. The way Cressida’s reiatsu fluxed in a mix of emotions made the Queen raise a brow the more she listened to her story.
“For the longest time I didn’t wish to let people see my pain, in the end, it just brings more stress,” she replied relaxing her gaze on the woman before letting her continue. Her eyes then followed where the Schade’s went and kept silent wondering what path she would choose. Simply shaking her head no to the lack of knowledge on drugs.
It felt like time came to a standstill when Cressida finally took those steps in her crossroads. Seeing the struggle to fight tears and just take the reliever to dull those pains; and just like that, as time suddenly moved forward, Cressida just answered her own pains and Freyleif smiled softly with a soft glint in her eyes.
“You don’t need my advice, Cressida,” she said calmly, having noticed Cress was bleeding and used Blut to damage the bottle. “" Blut. Kirchenlied. Ginto. Hirenkyaku. Soul-Silver. Soul Armor. Ranso Tengai. " One by one she listed the tools of their trade; the very things that made them what they were. “We're tools-man, equipped for any given situation at all times,” Freyleif recalled an old memory, and hoped this bit of knowledge that helped her would also help another.
A chuckle escaped her lips, of course, there was some play in wanting to disappear. “Then I am glad you had the courage to face me and also face your fears, the Quincy always have motives, that’s, well, something that’s ingrained in all humans.” her smile had faded but there was no ill coming out of her words. She hoped Cressida would also leap over that obstacle; one she couldn’t do herself, but if the Quincy woman was actually serious - hells she even made the first step to seek advice, she would grow to be a better Quincy.
“You don’t need a transplant, use that Blut,” she eyed the other Quincy’s scars and idly ran two fingers absentmindedly over the three scars over her own right eye. “Use that spiritual energy to strengthen your liver - as for your own damage - because for one; I believe in you, that you can heal your own damage, then move forward. Two: train here at the castle - if that doesn’t help you focus then move on meditation in the gardens to find quietness and to center yourself while using that Blut to strengthen your organs. If by a week that nothing changes then come to me if all else fails.” she said, peering into the woman’s blue eyes once more, even if the woman didn't think, in all her training, that she couldn't grow, Frey knew she could. Would Cressida finally be free of her chains and not fall back on her own mental state, or would she indeed fall and continue to be the worm that continued to gnaw on the roots of the Yggdrasil tree forever trapped?
“What are we, Cress?” she asked curiously one last time.
Last Edit: Oct 15, 2017 22:07:42 GMT -5 by scorchys
Post by Cressida Schade on Oct 21, 2017 12:02:25 GMT -5
This wasn't the first step for Cressida, she'd already admitted her problem and started to get off it. However from the way dialogue is rolling, Cressida almost felt as though Freyleif doesn't understand addiction. Mentally, Cressida scoffed at that notion, she recalled Freyleif's eyes that day many sleepless nights in the past when Weylin left the throne, a craving for power is not one that is easy to hide. Trying to follow Freyleif's line of thought, Cressida bet there was some bull in there.
"Blut to heal my liver? Does she not know addictions or organ damage works? Shouldn't using blut vene or arterie concentrated in a particular organ, let alone a potentially damaged one, destroy it? Did she say that intentionally? Was that code for suicide? No, no, calm down. Freyleif could easily stab you between the eyes right now, or forced blut to rip apart a vital organ. What am I saying? I'm way into my own mind if I am plotting my own murder. Did I just hear a deer?"
Words can have meaning, but meanings can be interpreted differently. Cressida in some respect admired Freyleif's definition of a Quincy, but Cressida knew in her heart it didn't apply to her. Cressida didn't subscribe to the whole bag of tricks aspect of being a Quincy. If there was anything good her grandfather gave her, it was that first training sword as a child, for it set Cressida upon her path. For she was more of a knight than an archer.
Letting out a smile for once, she looked upon Freyleif with slight enthusiasm.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't really identify with Quincy. I am what I am, I'm just a simple swordswoman. Nothing more, after all, you know what happened to Icarus. Unless your not familiar with Greek mythology, not sure who the Nordic equivalent would be."
She couldn't know whether or not this was the right decision, she couldn't tell if she could trust even Freyleif. However she had little options, her family would kill her, she has no lover, no friends, Freyleif was the closest thing she's got. Cressida found that sad, that the closest thing she had to a friend was the very same person who overthrown her rule.
"What is this, game of thrones? Is that reference right, I haven't seen game of thrones since episode one, ah well, I don't think I missed much."
However, Cressida finally felt like she was getting to the bedrock, or the bedrock was getting to her. She couldn't tell as she felt insecure about her place in any world, the Quincy world, the Moral world, or her family. She lost the footing she tried so desperately to hold.
"I appreciate the offer to stay at the castle, but as I said, no one but you and the doctor knows. Tell me Freyeleif, as you now know where my true strength comes from and my moment of weakness, who do you let see yours? Is it open for the world to watch?"
“I know little of that story, aye,” she said, thinking about the stories her mother once told her but over glanced that particular tale. “But as you say; just because someone has lost their wings they can choose to continue on, and just like Sisyphus pushing up that boulder over and over, we too have to struggle.” she simply shrugged. It was ironic, in a way, that her life was nothing but a struggle. Even now putting aside her own grief or someone else’s struggling.
The next question confused her. Eyebrow tilting upward and took a moment to digest what she meant. Half of her felt like this was a waste of time, far too many Quincy had doubt in themselves and she wondered whatever she said or lent a hand to would drive them forward or come crashing down because they had no faith in themselves. She pulled herself away from Cressida to walk over to the cage to gaze upon the white raven as she pondered these thoughts. Why did she have to be the only one to know? Perhaps this was a ruse or wanting to get to know her more. Regardless of such thoughts swirling in her head, she turned around and moved back to the couch and took a seat.
“The world doesn’t care for your problems, only your friends truly do. Those people give you hope,” she smiled and slowly traced a finger down the middle, larger, scar over her right eye before continuing. “If there was one thing I regretted back then; it would be not listening to my late mother and current caretaker, Angeni. I’m not perfect but do I need to surround myself around others that have the same goal? Yes, because someone needs to be there to see how dumb I am and to correct me. I’m not sure if that’s the answer you wished, but it is the truth. That is why you should surround yourself with people that care enough, perhaps Erek - but you already said your piece and those who you told about this addiction. Is there anything else on your mind?” she gave a glance to the white raven climbing up and down the bars then back Cressida with a small smile. There was a way to heal her organs but it showed the woman had a tiny amount of trust in her so she didn't push further in the ability Freyleif could help mend.
Seireitei is crumbling and the Gotei is a shell of its former self. Ravaged by the plague, the surviving Shinigami struggle to maintain the balance, but with so few of them left, the work is taxing and their fortress-city has fallen to neglect. Spread thin across all fronts, their diminished presence has been noted by friend and foe alike.
The Arrancar have rebuilt Las Noches and are rallying. The throne remains empty, but self-styled Espada have risen up from among them and are vying for control, each one endlessly testing the others’ weaknesses. Too evenly matched for any one of them to claim the crown, they bide their time, waiting for the opportune moment.
On Earth, all seems well—but there is a war being fought in the shadows as the mortals find themselves lacking the protection they once had and so sorely need. The Quincy, having realized the oppressive specter of the Shinigami is no more, are flourishing, and are fighting the Hollow-breeds with renewed vigor.