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Cassandra Greene

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About Cassandra Greene

  • Rank


    Lyndsy Fonseca
  • AGE
    37 (3-13-85)
  • RACE
  • JOB
    ARMA: Knight Division, Captain
  • 'SHIP:
    Alec Walker
    Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York
    ARMA: Member; one of the original founders; sister of original founder.
    OFL/Vatican: Due to past history; does not like them and the stuff they do.
    Alistair Greene: Brother; original founder of ARMA; current MIA Commander
    Alec Walker: Boyfriend; BFF; Work Colleague
    Wesley Evans: Awesome friend and colleague
    Rhome Del Santo/Matthias: Ex-boyfriend, Retired Assassin sent to kill her by Vatican/OFL
    Petite and curvy; standing at 5'5" in full, Cassandra has always been of a diminutive stature much to her consternation growing up. Shy, quiet, little she was more a wallflower than a social butterfly and preferred sports to more girlish pastimes like shopping. This love of sports including gymnastics left her with a more athletic figure than most young children her age and even as she grew up it remained that way though she began to bloom late after puberty hit. Gaining the curves that most thought would never come though it'd not be until early adulthood that she came into her own completely.

    Cassandra had never much focused on her figure, her looks, though beyond the athletic and healthy aspects that came with training especially after she'd started gymnastics at age six. It was important as well to stay in shape and eat right for the other sports: tennis, field hockey, -- especially as the years passed and everything became more rigorous. Dance was another love, mostly allowed by her Mother as it was a form of exercise, but was more a hobby than anything else; yet it added to her physique and eventually would become more once she reached her later adult years, that broke her into a more feminine aspect of the world. It didn't mean that she ever became one of those girly girl types, no, though it did introduce her to the fact that it was alright to dress in a feminine manner just as it was alright to dress in a comfortable one, and that it didn't mean you didn't love yourself or have confidence in yourself cause you chose to wear make-up or dress a little more sexy. Her appearance became more a method of self-expression to a point as it was her choice what to wear, what to do, what to think.

    Now, she might some days wear baggy t-shirts and comfortable pants or a skimpy dress and heels or a classy suit depending on what she feels like wearing. Casual or dressy? That's her choice. Her brown hair might some days be worn down to brush her shoulders(or sometimes below or a bit above depending on how its cut) or pulled up in some fashion, and sometimes it might be brown or it might be treated by highlights or hair coloring. She wears make-up in a tasteful fashion with colors depending on mood, outfit, and so on that compliments her usually fair, slightly tanned skin and blue eyes; these sometimes shifting color depending on various things so that they might look green some days, yet still makes sure to take care of her skin as well by using various products and rinses.

    Her appearance is not important to Cassandra due to vanity or a lack of confidence, but it is instead a sign of the worth she sees in herself. An expression of self-love and care for her being.
    Independent, distant, strong, vulnerable --- Cassandra's personality over the years has been easily labeled as troublesome by many of the people that knew her. Growing up in an environment filled with arguing, hatred, instability never made it easy. Much of her life she felt ignored; an unwanted child whose existence created more problems in the already troubled lives of her parents, and passed aside which made her lash out in rebellious attempts for attention when she wasn't doing the complete opposite by doing whatever it took to please them. The only person whose love she felt she didn't have to fight for or win was her brother's, and it is only thanks to him that she didn't mess up her entire life during her later high school years and she began to change. While the incident of possession; the torture that led to it, has left her a mess she's also more together than she had been becoming just before The Event occurred. Suffering and committing unsavory acts while possessed has a way of changing a person, your priorities, your wants, and more while opening your eyes. She still finds herself dealing with moments of weakness and fear though; nightmares plaguing her sleeping hours of the things that she experienced, so that sometimes she's a little more jumpy than she'd like to be. The aspects of slight PTSD are not easily overcome.

    What she went through has left her thinking a lot about the things she didn't do in life and there's a lot of regret to handle on that front to accompany the guilt. Now, she aims to make up for the wrong she did while being manipulated by the demon that possessed her and to improve her life by changing it. While she was once described as a tease, and a flirt, with a more outgoing personality she tends to be more withdrawn now. Keeping herself protected by walls and distance from others as she still feels quite vulnerable. She knows the demon is gone, her brother saw to it, yet she lives in fear it could happen again. However, Cassandra is making progress in this regard where it concerns opening up to people and trying to overcome her issues.
    JEWELRY: A locket necklace with a golden chain and a jewel on the front that is her birthstone. This was given to her by her brother, Alistair, after she moved in with him. She never takes it off. Even when the demon had control, and she lacked her memory, she couldn't allow herself to get rid of it. Recently it has obtained a rune engraved behind the picture inside. This rune helps ward off possession of the demonic type. She carries four other items, of varying sizes, hidden on her person at all times.

    A cuff bracelet made of enchanted leather, to protect it from wear and tear, that has a couple linked circular silver designs on the top, and that buckles under the wrist to secure it [pic under Other Ch. Images]. The silver on the piece helps to channel and focus her abilities, and can cut down on the exhaustion that most spells cause, but mainly its advantage is in helping her to manage in forming multiple constructs at one time. While it may not be on her wrist at all times, it is on her person at all times whether in purse or pocket so that she can slap it on when needed.

    RESIDENCE: (Prior to Sept. 5th 2021) While the apartment that she resides in is one she rents and doesn’t own, Cass considers it to belong to her. It is the only place she has had that she can really say that about and takes pride in the fact — even if she has to occasionally ask for a little aid from her big brother. Given the situation with the Vatican and Order, and her fear of potential possession again, the place is warded with symbols done in invisible paint on walls, floor, etc. She even has come to a point where curtains and blinds hold these markings. They have to be re-done every couple months when the mana behind their power fades, but she finds it worthwhile. Plus Alistair is good help to figure out ways to ward given his own apartment’s secure state. [pic under Other Ch. Images]

    (After Sept. 5th 2021) Moved in with Alec at his apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, NY.

    WEAPONS: As a backup option she carries a Sig Sauer P239. Chambered for .357 SIG that was a gift from her brother and is usually on her person at all times.

    OTHER WEAPONS: Hook Swords, Falchion + Knife/Dagger or Buckler, Rapier + Dagger, Dual Cutlasses or Cutlass + Buckler, Varying Staves. These are not weapons that she uses in combat or carries on her person. They are kept in a safe space at the ARMA HQ for practice. She may, on occasion, take them between ARMA and her home if she’s feeling the urge to train when not in the building; usually letting herself into Alistair’s apartment to use his own training space/gym he has there.

    ARMOR: Two enchanted coats for protection: One a sleeveless, gold-brown leather jacket that reaches the knees and has two evenly spaced double rows of buttons and belts at the waist. The other is a deep green military coat with gold buttons made of heavy material — primarily for colder climates and seasons — that reaches the knees. They’re used to offer a little extra protection during fights/attacks though are not a perfect defense, and she doesn’t always wear them though she should. Both jackets are reinforced with ballistic M5 fabric and enchantments which render them significantly more resistant to small arms fire than say a standard bulletproof vest; stopping most any round short of .50 BMG or high grade armor piercing rounds. However, they’re not proof against kinetic energy, and like with any ballistic vest bruising and cracked bones can easily result from impacts. [pics under Other Ch. Images]

Profile Fields

  • Primary
    Cassandra Greene
  • All My Characters
    Keeley Saunders
  • Typist's Interests
    Reading, writing, coding, video games(playing & watching others play; longest played MMOs - FFXI Online[former] and FFXIV Online[current]), music(listening), tv show binging & movie watching(Netflix, Hulu, Prime), etc.
  • Typist's Role Play History
    Almost 20 years of roleplaying via forums, journals, chatrooms, IMs, etc. I can give name specifics, but the majority of those groups I either don't recall or they're gone. I've played a wide-range of genres as well.
  • Role Play Sample
    "What the HELL do you mean you don't know? You realize that you can lose your badge over this and that Internal Affairs will have to be called in? Either start talking or say goodbye to your career right now Reynard!" Tristan wasn't in the most pleasant of moods as he stared across from the man that he'd called into Interrogation Room 12B.

    After his discussion with Ms. Nola Mack he'd went off to find out what happened to the body of Andrea Mills. That day he'd been mildly frustrated before talking to Ms. Mack then slightly disgruntled upon learning of the missing body, and it ended with him extremely pissed off as he found out that they'd cremated her. The documents he'd been given, with permission from the parents and Marshall(surprise, surprise!) made him make a call to the parents.

    Andrea Mills's parents had been beyond words, their anger and grief unable to be expressed, as they explained that they had never signed any documents consenting to have their daughter burned. They had planned to have a funeral and burial. Apologizing profusely, explaining that he'd find out who had done this and that he'd have her ashes sent to them soon, he had then went home to try to get sleep.

    Today though he was questioning Reynard about the incident at Potomac Park. Tristan had taken a jog there this morning and gotten someone to identify Reynard and Stevens as the cops there that day. The man had kindly explained he told them about a prostitute he'd seen selling herself on the corner near the park and had been apalled by that behavior. The jogger had even identified the prostitute as Andrea Mills from a newspaper photograph. Since he had proof from someone other than Keenan Lacy, not wanting to drag his name into this just yet, he'd happily went to interrogate Reynard and Stevens.

    Both men were in different rooms. Tristan's own partner, Martinez, was handling Stevens and he'd taken Reynard. Staring at the young man with cold coffee brown eyes, he waited quietly for him to say something. They'd been here for an hour and all the man had been able to say so far was a measly 'I don't know' which had sufficiently angered Tristan.

    Slamming both hands down on the table, knowing that behind the one-sided glass someone kept an eye on him, he leaned forward to look right in Reynard's own nervous green eyes, his voice a low growl,"I know that car 702 belongs to Stevens and you. I have a witness who puts you two at the park talking to Andrea Mills the day of the shooting. Explain to me why the hell the report states Parker and Henry were there that day. I want answers NOW!"

    He punctuated that 'now' by slamming a fist against the table just a few inches from where Reynard's hands were clasped together. It succeeded in making the man jump like he'd hoped. Tristan wanted answers and since talking reasonably hadn't gotten them yet he'd decided to scare them out of him.

    Moving away from the table, a shake of his head given that made the ponytail he'd pulled his black curls into sway, he gave an ashamed look toward the young cop,"You know Reynard the first day you joined the force I thought there's a man with potential. He's going to make one damn fine cop. Now I look at you and all I see is someone who doesn't even know what it is to be one. Sad excuse for a cop. Might as well let Internal Affairs have their way with you..."

    Turning on his heel as though he was headed for the door to call Internal Affairs he heard Reynard shuffle in his chair nervously before he called out,"Wait! I-I'll ta-talk..."

    Pausing with his hand on the doorknob, a smug grin on his lips, he turned around to look at the man,"Then talk."
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  1. The surprise that displayed itself on the woman’s face was easily noticeable. At first, she wondered if it was a nervous response to her being part of ARMA though it wasn’t followed by any outward fear. Instead the other woman seemed relatively agreeable concerning the information. That a scene didn’t follow brought some relief considering some still associated ARMA with the Order though they’d been trying to change those views. “Dangerous job.” “Dangerous times.” Little time passed between the back-to-back statements. The smile slid from her face. A hum of agreement being her only acknowledgement. All too well the dangers of this job, and this world, were evidenced in her own personal life. Even now it wasn’t a secret that her own brother, Alistair, a high-ranking ARMA official and its founder, was missing. This job brought with it losses and injuries that had previously been unimaginable. Not in the sense of the form the loss or injury took, but in the circumstances surrounding it. Prior to this world Cassandra wouldn’t have imagined that she’d have her heart broken by an assassin sent to kill her or that her brother would disappear while investigating a murderous magic cult. Neither would it have been imagined that she’d have to protect New York from an attack of amped up Lycanthropes as well as many other experiences. It would’ve been highly unlikely for their lives to deal with these things in the world before. “Me? I’m just here for the coffee. I don’t sleep much so I like to beat the crowds when I can. If you haven’t noticed I tend to make people slightly uncomfortable, and people tend to make me not so slightly irritated. Especially before I've had coffee. If I get it early I can at least pretend I don’t want to throttle everyone who stumbles all over a simple conversation with me.” Now that brought a smile back to her face as she could relate to the need for coffee. There were enough jokes about how much of the Greene family blood was actually made up of the beverage. “I’m Maya by the way.” “Cassandra Greene, fellow coffee addict.” She offered by way of introduction as she shook Maya's hand, amusement in her own voice. “I probably drink more than a couple pots a day of the stuff with the early and late hours of my job. Honestly, it’s the only way I survive early mornings especially during winter.” A pause followed as she took another sip of her coffee. Giving herself a minute to consider how to ask the next question before she spoke again. “If you don’t mind my asking. . . What makes them stumble more: the missing arm or the white cane?” The question was asked cautiously with a touch of levity mingled with warmth before she also added, “If you don’t want to answer that’s fine. There’s plenty of other topics for conversation.” Asking what made them stumble through a conversation with her would’ve been inconsiderate. It also would be obvious that Cassandra was playing dumb and could offend Maya in the process. Neither of which she wanted to do. And she wasn’t going to pretend that she understood what Maya experienced either. People being uneasy about her being ARMA was not the same thing. Instead she’d just drink her coffee while letting Maya decide how to proceed.
  2. The hour was late though the ARMA facility was far from quiet. Shifts were rotating in and out on their usual schedule, and the sounds of ringing phones or the percolating of a coffee machine. People could be heard sparring in the gym while others talked over food grabbed from the kitchen fridge. The sounds were nothing out-of-the-ordinary as far as noises went in the workplace. Of course, Cassandra thought it was all too much at this hour. Normally her workaholic attitude meant that she didn’t mind being in the office, but these days that wasn’t as true. Working from home was far more preferable when the work involved staying in the office instead of being outside the building. The upper levels where Alistair and Aura’s offices were had become a place where the temporary “council” met to discuss matters with Cassandra taking over Alistair’s office and Alec taking over Aura’s office given the significance of their divisions along with the fact that it was largely the two of them that were responsible for keeping things from falling to pieces after the disappearances. And though eventually decisions would have to be made regarding a permanent solution this was what they had to make work for the time being. Tonight Alec was at home, having been able to go home early for once, but she’d had to stay as there was more paperwork to do in regards to the cathedral attack. Barely two weeks had passed since the attack yet it had generated more media attention and paperwork than she preferred. Some quack journalists were calling it an Outworlder attack; attempting to use it to push the agenda for further Outworlder Registration. They ignored the fact that ARMA commentary spoke to the contrary and just ran onward with their false reports. Their PR department was doing its best to try to clean up the mess being made by these delusional fanatics, but it was hard when they couldn’t release too many details. For one, it was an ongoing investigation. For two, there wasn’t much information they had to go on themselves. Just the thought made Cassandra groan as her mind drifted to the still healing aches and pains of her body. Luckily they had good healers which meant what had been left to heal was superficial. There wasn’t any need to heal what wasn’t life-threatening. She rubbed absently at a couple scratches near her temple; ignoring the thought that it was part of an ugly yellowish-brown bruise. It was one of many though would thankfully be gone soon. A yawn made her hand shift position, covering her mouth as she blinked twice to clear her eyes as the letters became blurry on another document. Coffee. When did her mug run dry? She couldn’t remember at the moment, but more was definitely necessary. Putting down her pen, she was reaching for the empty mug when a phone ringing caught her attention. That wasn’t her office phone nor her personal cell. Brows pulled together as she realized that it was coming from the drawer where she’d placed Alistair’s things. Pulling the draw open hastily, she grabbed at a strange phone flashing ‘Bride of Corinth’ on the screen. This was clearly one of her brother’s references that she didn’t understand. Figuring that the person calling was in need of contacting Alistair — they’d been lucky enough to keep the disappearances quiet where the public was concerned though that woudn’t last — she pressed the accept button and put the speaker to her ear. “Cassandra Greene speaking.” Honestly, she wasn’t sure what else to say until the person on the other end decided to speak.
  3. The growl was telling in itself. Clearly for all that Thomas knew this information being presented was news to him. Cassandra had to admit that she understood the frustration. Though she acknowledged that his anger was on a different level given that it was his product being tainted and used to kill innocent people. For her it was that there were innocents being murdered, but the search for the culprit felt like it was moving at a snail’s pace. “Just the ones I’ve mentioned. The coroner who handled the New York cases, a Dr. Keeley Saunders, has feelers out to see if any other morgues have similar deaths. She has labeled them as homicides and the Boston case has been re-opened accordingly.” Pulling the beanie off her head, she placed it in her lap before shoving a hand through her hair. A sign of her own agitation even if she seemed otherwise composed. She pocketed both the cell and her beanie while watching him. When he took a drink, she tilted her head to the side and wondered what information he’d come across. Figuring that he needed the drink and a minute to calm down, Cassandra waited patiently. Finally Thomas played his card: a tainted bottle. Now, that was one thing they didn’t have on hand and that had been found to be unusual. The reaction of his inner-beast to just the scent of the liquor as it sat in the glass was practically visceral. Something about it apparently smelled to the were-creature, but to her it just smelled like the same alcohol that was in the glass he’d drank a moment ago. She nodded slowly, carefully lifting the glass to swirl the liquid around in it a moment; trying to see if she could tell anything different about its color or consistency only to sigh in annoyance. “Where did you come by a bottle? We weren’t able to get any samples besides what was in the stomach contents. And that for some reason contained little of the poison. Peculiar, no?” Cassandra had one more peculiarity to drop on him as she added, “It’s not the only one though. The coroner found a mana component when she sent the samples off to the Pharos lab.” The mana component combined with the serial and crossing state lines made it clear why the cases were being handled by ARMA and not local law enforcement. She eyed Thomas a moment before sitting down the glass. “If I send this to be tested, what’s your plan? This is an ARMA investigation, Thomas. There’s too many bodies in the morgue already and their families want justice.” She paused, letting that sink in a moment before continuing, “And not what Bakkhos considers justice. They want their chance to confront that killer, to ask them why, to see them in New Alcatraz which they won’t get if you beat them to death and toss them in some unmarked hole in the ground. . .” Cassandra wasn’t just going to let him go kill someone. She wanted to deliver a resolution to this case; see that it was marked ‘Solved’ instead of placed in ‘Cold Cases’ where the families would never be able to have a chance at closure or peace. That didn’t mean she wasn’t willing to let him get some of the payback he was entitled to given the attempt to frame him and ruin his business. Of course, she was asking for a lot that he only take his pound of flesh instead of every pound. Plus, Thomas’ response would factor into if she told him that there might be another way to get information besides just the results of the tested alcohol.
  4. There wasn’t any mistaking the amusement in the woman’s response. She was clearly not oblivious either to the way people were acting. Something told Cassandra that this treatment was not a new experience. Nothing had changed all that much from the pre-Resonance world. Society still largely treated those who were different as if they were lepers. Generally, that judgment fell on the disabled though these days it also included the outworlders or metahumans that didn’t pass as human. Or choose to act as a human — as the passing humans did if they wanted to be accepted — as if they should be ostracized for accepting what they’d become. Society never failed to disappoint. These days bigotry and prejudice and hatred were finding a way to rise up again; the passing of Outworlder Registration, and the power still held in some places by the Vanguard, evidence enough of the way they were using the changed world to push the agenda they’d once had to hide before the event that altered everything. Now, they had a way to spread their insidious plan and had spread it slowly like a virus until their hold grew more firm in certain areas of the world. Even here in New York where there was a larger anti-Outworlder Registration opposition the whispers could still be heard. The situation was a continuously building powder keg on top of everything else ARMA was facing these days. The woman’s question drew Cassandra from her thoughts back to the mug that was heating up her gloved hands. Taking a minute to pull them off and shove them in her pockets as she considered how to answer. She wondered if the woman could see? The cane and sunglasses suggested that the woman was blind, but she wasn’t one to make assumptions. “Work.” Wrapping both hands back around the mug, she took a sip of the coffee and then lowered it again before speaking, “I’m an agent for ARMA.” Cassandra figured that if the woman was blind then she might not have seen the badge. Not that she was any risk to the woman, but some people acted differently when they found out and if the woman couldn’t see for herself. . . well, she had a right to know. Hiding it from her would be rude. “You?” Being out in this miserable weather at this hour without a good reason was something she couldn’t fathom especially when the better option was to remain warm. She gripped the mug of coffee tighter and took a longer pull, and enjoyed the feeling of relief as warmth spread through her chilled body.
  5. Admissions from Rhome squeezed at her heart. To lie about something of that nature was needlessly cruel. To tear away what little peace the man had been able to achieve just for manipulation. She felt angry on his behalf. Yearned to march over and tell that blonde-haired ice queen a piece of her mind. She wanted to talk to him about how he’d come to that realization except there was little time for talking. It wasn’t necessary for Harker to explain the sensation creeping along her spine. Had she not been as focused on Rhome, and the matter at hand, she’d have picked up on it sooner. They had all been distracted though to some extent which made it too late to get out now. Something told her that the window of opportunity for escape had passed. The last time Cassandra had stepped in this place to speak with Rhome it’d resulted in fight and flight. Now, it was either fight or die. Cassandra’s blue eyes had dropped focus from the upper level to survey the large, double-doored entrance of the cathedral when two things registered in her mind: the intent in Harker’s gaze and the proximity of Rhome’s heat. As fast as it took for the fellow ARMA agent to draw he’d find that between his gun and Rhome’s heart was her body. It was only the enchantments of her coat that protected her from the fire. The rhythm of her heart felt loud in her ears as she waited. . . One. The dagger in her left hand vanished. Two. A blue-white glow starts to extend outward from her hand. Three. The shape begins to take form until becoming a small, round shield 18 inches in diameter. Just as that fourth beat set into motion, Harker turned to fire on the threat behind him. As she expelled the breath she’d been holding, the buckler disappeared from her hand to remain clear until a better understanding of the situation could be formed. And it was about to be. She felt the heat move away from her just before a pew crashed into, and at the same time through, the malleable form ahead. The cry of pain brought a raised brow and then there was information being tossed out as a wall of flame danced between them and the enemy. One specific part of Rhome’s speech caught in her mind. Do not engage the phasing-mage, repeated itself in her head as she watched the woman appear on the other side of the flame-wall. She should’ve taken her down that day she saw her strike him. Instead she’d let her escape. Not today. This one seemed like she might have useful information if they could take her alive. “If possible, we take them alive. . .” But her tone said the rest quite clearly: not at the cost of lives. Their own or otherwise. Information would be valuable, but not that valuable it meant any of them dying. Of course, the look from Rhome kept any further words from coming forth. Blue eyes stared intently into his dove gray ones, reading a message that made her stomach churn. “No. . .” She reached out to tell him not to do anything foolish except he was already flying through the air. As he made his attack so did there come shouts from behind them that had her instinctively pull up a half-shield as she crouched by a pew just as Harker fired off several shots. Sticking her head out to the side let her know that he’d killed someone in robes, but figured that if he’d fired it likely wasn’t an an innocent bystander. Now with her front shielded by the pew and the rest of her shielded by the glowing white energy shield she put her focus on calling for help. An ARMA issue cell was hastily pulled from her coat pocket. It was specially encased to be shielded enough that the magic around them shouldn’t be interfering yet it still refused to work. “Something’s blocking it. There’s nothing.” That quite plainly meant there wasn’t any help coming; at least not until she could figure out what was causing the issue. “There has to be more than just her and that other one. There’s no way they’d try to take him on again without more numbers, and certainly not with me here.” Had their goal been the same the last time they’d attacked? Had it not just been Rhome the phasing magus was after that day? They’d thought she’d come to kill him, but perhaps it’d been more than that from the start. Cassandra glanced over to Harker then up where Rhome was now. At least two of the enemy had made themselves known, right? Or had the phasing magus been responsible as well for the odd shadow-ghost thing? Or perhaps it was a whole other being? They wouldn’t want to risk them escaping so ensuring the ways for them to flee were blocked would be the first step. Like making sure there’d be no conventional way to call for help. Of course, there were other ways. “If they haven’t encased the place,” A totally plausible thing that could happen these days and that an enemy might use to their advantage, “we could send up a magical flare. Though we’ll need a distraction.” Sending out a magical S.O.S. was the only idea that came to mind at the moment. It’d have to be done from a high point and sent out through the roof, and done by someone with fire magic though. That person would have to be able to get to a high enough point first which meant a suitable distraction to occupy an unknown number of enemies. She looked at Harker, knowing that he’d be amenable to playing the distraction. He had enough toys in his bag of tricks to distract anyone. As she turned to look at Rhome to see how he felt about being the flare gun, her eyes took notice of the blood on his blade and a slow grin appeared on her lips. “Also, I have a way to possibly slow her down if you want to work together. . .” The ability throttled people and objects, but it had to be done right in order to work. That meant contact for a full minute. They’d have to keep her from phasing away before then. Afterward though, she’d be down for at least 5 minutes and that’d give them the upperhand. They'd have to set a suitable trap to bait her first.
  6. Cassandra was not in the mood to be questioned by Harker. She didn’t particularly care if he had an issue with her orders. It didn’t change the fact that they were given nor that the policy was in place. Being given an attitude wasn’t helping her mood. She could only imagine that the Cloak operative wanted to say more — he’d not been one to withhold his opinion before. She could only imagine that his opinion was in measure with a handful in ARMA that still questioned her involvement with the fire magus. Of course, those people were fools. She hadn’t thought Harker to be one even if they’d not perfectly gotten along the last time they’d worked a case. All of that was put on a backburner though. Harker would get his chance as they’d have to discuss his behavior here this evening, but for the time being there were more important matters. Like convincing Rhome that he was better off with them. The last time she’d tried to convince him to come in with her it’d not gone so well. This seemed likely to be a repeat. The sound of his footsteps moving away made her turn away from the candles as did Harker’s outburst. Annoyance was not helping to calm the anger coursing through her. Though seeing him holster the weapon was a good sign. A nod was given to the Cloak operative before she shifted her attention to Rhome again. Noticing the way his stature shifted made her wish that she had been able to find a means to bring him some pleasant news for once. Instead after years without any word she approached empty-handed to ask him not only to help an organization with some in it that didn’t trust him including her own brother, but was also allied with the organization responsible for his trauma. It was unfair. When Cassandra made that original deal to save his neck the situation had been complicated. It’d not been about the romantic feelings, but understanding of how the Vatican, and the Order by extension, could mess with the mind. The deal had been a good one and if it hadn’t been then her brother would’ve never approved. It was the mention of her brother that helped bring the anger down to a manageable level; the glow around her fists beginning to diminish a little. Not worrying about Harker’s presence or what he thought at the moment, Cassandra approached the pew where Rhome sat and crouched by his right knee. “I never thought you responsible. Not even for a second.” The words were full of quiet reassurance as she met his gaze. Where before she’d used their connection coldly, and with calculation, during an interrogation to gain his cooperation, but this was different. There wasn’t any of the former hatred behind it. While still confused and hurt by all of it there’d been a point after their last encounter where eventually the hatred started to fade. There were fates worse than death, and they’d been made to suffer them at the hands of people who claimed to help people; both had ended up committing atrocities that tainted them in one way or another as a result, but not many in ARMA were free of that stain. Cassandra couldn’t help that she felt sympathy at how little worth he saw in himself. A reflection of the guilt that she still dealt with even now. Once her brother had pointed out that Rhome wasn’t under any geas or collars or spells, but there were other ways to control people. It’d been going on long before the world went to hell. They’d used some of those ways to try to control her even before the beast took hold. Quietly she listened to his stipulations and observed the way he rubbed the scar on his hand; taking a moment to consider these things when he added another one. . . One she understood all too well. Of course, before she could speak it was Harker’s voice that broke the silence. Immediately Cassandra felt the anger rise up a little and had to swiftly force it back down. Was his goal actually to get Rhome as an asset? Or was it to piss off everyone? She wasn’t sure, but in the moment she wanted to ring his neck. “Find a little serenity, Harker. You got problems with my decisions? Come see me later. But right now, remember that I am your superior.” Looking back to the fire magus, she gave a little sigh and shook her head, her words holding regret, “Once I told you that if we let what they did control our lives we’d never be free, and that redemption isn’t as easy as doing the right thing once, but something you continue to work at. I still believe those things. You took the first step when you chose not to kill me, the second step when you turned yourself over to ARMA. . . You didn’t know what ARMA’s response would be, and yet you were still willing to burn bridges with the Order, the Vatican just to save me. Since then, while they’ve been small, you continue to take steps though we’ve given little in return and yet here I come asking you to help us which means helping your enemy. It’s unfair. . .” Slipping her hand into the thick collar of her sweater, she pulled out the chain always worn around her neck to show him what was on it besides the locket: a knotwork in the form of a wolf. Cassandra had tried many times to get rid of it, but was never able to do it. At first she’d even tried hiding it away, but had continued to wear the gift. “If those are your terms then we’ll meet them. We now help magus who don’t fit with ARMA find a place that suits them after training, and they’re no longer considered rogue. They owe us nothing in return though are free to seek us out for help at any time. I’m not asking you to join, just be an alley. An asset. To help us on your own terms.” Dropping her voice to a whisper meant just for his ears, she pulled a breath into her lungs before speaking softly, “I never thanked you for the great risk you took to save my life, Matty. I’m sorry. I want you to know though that I have not stopped trying to save her life.” While she let Rhome digest that information and make a decision, it was Harker’s behavior that made Cassandra rise to her feet. Though she had issues with the operative that they needed to work through he wasn’t the sort to not pay attention or be easily distracted. Something had him on edge. She approached him slowly, each step purposefully measured as she looked down at the floor and began to listen to her surroundings. The place seemed just as quiet as before, but there was something that felt off. Shifting on her right foot, she paused by Harker and he’d notice that her left hand casually make a motion akin to unsheathing a weapon behind her back just before one of her purple-blue energy daggers appeared. She casually leaned against a pew nearest him. “You good? Or are we going to have more problems?” Blue eyes cut away from him as she spoke, focusing on the upper level and though her body would seem relaxed it’d be easy to note that she could be unleashed in a moment. The Greene siblings were always getting mocked for being paranoid, but just cause you’re paranoid. . .
  7. “Stand down, Harker.” The command was firm, slipping out of the shadows just like Cassandra herself did. The last time Cassandra had stepped foot inside these walls it’d been in anger and weakness. A moment of foolishness that got her in trouble and almost endangered the deal she'd helped get Rhome with ARMA. She’d been full of hurt and heartache, and confused about the man who she’d still gone to bat for with ARMA. That day held many memories that stuck in her mind: the kiss, the attack, the admittance of love, the reveal of a secret. . . It’d been three years since then, and he’d managed to gain enough trust within ARMA after nearly dying that she’d convinced them to leave him be. It’d seemed too that he’d found a place here; Father del Santo they called him now from what she’d been told, and she spent her time trying to see if perhaps ARMA could find an answer regarding the secret he’d divulged. Continuing even to use the truce as a means to dig deeper into files the Order wouldn’t otherwise allow them to access. She hadn’t looked on Rhome in all that time even from a distance except once just to be sure that he hadn’t vanished too, and then afterward left it to others to give her reports. One of those others, Operative Symons, was doing a check tonight when they’d become concerned. Empowered humans weren’t necessarily as adept at Magus at sensing mana yet Symons had described the mana surge as “mad bonkers”. While that was enough to make anyone cringe, if they knew Symons it’d be easy to figure out that the young woman wasn’t an alarmist. After some internal debate over whether to stay in bed where it was warm or go out into the miserable cold night to check out the situation she’d chosen the latter. And a good thing too what she just walked in on was any indicator. Aside from a brief glance upon first making her presence known she tried not to look at Rhome just yet. Though it’d been three years, and her relationship with Alec was going quite well, that didn’t mean the feelings had just disappeared. That sometimes she didn’t wonder what if. For now, she focused her attention on Harker. Blue eyes were hard as they cut toward the ARMA agent. There being cowboys within the organization was nothing new — even Alistair was known for being one at times — except previous work experience with Harker had shown that he could get a little more locked into that mindset. Some people thought everything had gone back to the ways of the west after the Nevus event then had trouble letting it go when civilization managed to hold together or re-build in some areas. These were the type of people that Cassandra and Alec, and others within ARMA concerned about the organization’s future, had been worrying about going rogue or creating splinter groups. “There won’t be any arrests here tonight. Father del Santo is considered a rehabilitated rogue magus with a protected status which means that he isn’t to be bothered unless he either contacts us or is in danger.” She paused to let that be digested before continuing, “If there is any suspicion that he has broke the terms of his deal with us then Knight Division needs to be contacted and a proper investigation conducted.” It wasn’t like she hadn’t overheard everything Harker had said to Rhome after the candles were lit, but she wanted to de-escalate the situation first before approaching that topic. She didn’t censure by asking outright who’d given permission for him to come here; just stated the facts of the policies that ARMA had in place regarding those considered rehabilitated or protected especially as far as their rights. Violating their own policies, and the rights those policies were meant to help, by not conducting an investigation properly would make them all look bad. There might be a truce, but the Order’s PR would still eat that up. Before coming inside Cassandra had sent Symons on home. Whether or not something had been going on she needed to talk with Rhome. It was long overdue. Harker’s presence was almost a boon as it meant there’d be less risk of it veering from the professional. Unbuttoning the large, gold buttons on her military coat to reveal the simple thick sweater and slacks underneath as the church was warmer than it’d been outside, she turned her attention now from Harker to Rhome as she approached the candles. One hand moved out to hover just over the flame of one. She stared at the flickering light before a simple motion of her fingers produced a slight breeze that blew out three of them. “We keep losing people. Some of them are dead. Others missing. . .” Right palm turned over to form a little cup where a tiny flame appeared, a simple cantrip taught to her like the wind one, “The Nevus event, and the tiny ones that came afterward, have taken from us, but this is different. . . ” Straightening out three fingers, she watched the flame bounce from her palm to the tips of each as she lit the three candles slowly and closed her eyes to whisper a prayer before speaking again for the other two to hear, “and perhaps in some way this can be seen as karma against the Order and the Vanguard, but we know not everyone in a bad organization is necessarily a bad person and in the process innocents are being hurt. Old grudges and issues need to be put aside so we can pull together or we’re going to be wiped out. We’re up against an enemy that is more powerful than us and we understand little about them or their plans, but I saw the lengths people will go who they convince to do their bidding.“ Cassandra couldn’t help the rage and disgust that became clear in her tone as she recalled the horrors of Lakeville. That experience had forced her to add more deaths to the unknown tally she’d started when possessed. It had been all deemed justifiable, she and Trystan had just been fighting to survive yet that didn’t make her feel any better. This threat had not only stained her hands with more blood, but now they had taken the last member of her blood family left on this planet and were killing members of the only other family she’d known in this screwy world. She was grateful for the candles as they offered an excuse so that she could blink away the tears pricking at her eyes, but the light did show more clearly the dark circles under her eyes and the wanness of her face from barely sleeping. Barely contained rage displayed as both hands curled into fists tight enough to turn the knuckles white as her own mana let off the sensation of a charge; the outside of her hands becoming coated in energy that glowed light blue with a yellow tint to the outline as she fought the urge to strike something. This was not like Cassandra who was generally known for having a more calm reputation and being in control of her anger. Both of them to varying degrees would easily note how out of control she seemed in the moment. She was struggling; her calm and cool attitude worn down to frayed edges. The words she spoke next were low, holding a note of desperation as Cassandra let the fear and concern she’d been doing her best to hide from everyone come out for a moment. “I need you. . .“ The words weren’t the exact ones she intended to speak, but they came out nonetheless; hanging in the air specifically for one person in the room before she recalled the presence of the other ARMA agent. Adding a hasty, “both working together instead of against each other. Everyone does right now.“ Unknown to them the danger was already near as down the road a good distance from the church, Operative Symons stood perched at the edge of an alley to be sure that none of those inside left while she made a phone call on a secondary phone she carried. “At the Cathedral with the fire magus. . . and the Greene woman is here, and possibly another mana carrier. Send some reinforcements. He’d be pleased if we got at least her.”
  8. Being welcomed inside without any fuss was a relief especially from a man who was clearly a little annoyed. Cassandra couldn’t help the amusement that lit her eyes. People were often irritated by her presence. It came with the territory. Nodding her thanks, she stepped inside the open door and took a minute to give Thyrsus a casual appraisal. She’d been in the store a number of times since her first visit though nothing had really changed about the place. That visit could’ve went much worse if not for the cooperation of Thomas Gallo himself. She didn’t always make deals with criminals especially one with ties to a rather big syndicate. Occasionally there was an issue that made it necessary like the last visit. That fugitive had been a small fish in a big pond, but they’d been useful in capturing ARMA a bigger one. Ever since that first cooperation, Gallo had been helpful in other ways in exchange for certain things from ARMA that followed along with the terms of the agreement Cassandra got approved. It had turned out to be a lucrative relationship. Usually their visits were a little more Gallo contacting her rather than a surprise call. While he gave orders, Cassandra removed her scarf and gloves; slipping both into one of the pockets of her coat as she followed him inside his office. “I’d never make that assumption about you, Thomas.” Cassandra dropped the formal ‘Mr. Gallo’ she’d used outside, slipping into the proffered seat. If there was one thing she’d come to gather about Thomas Gallo it was that he wasn’t just brawn. Insulting his intelligence would be really stupid on her part. If he said that he knew why she was there? Then he probably did. She doubted there was much he didn’t know especially if it involved his business. Though it wouldn’t stop her from telling him what had brought her here. Sharing what she knew might get him to share what he knew. . . “Last year I was in Boston on some business when I got asked to look at a case that was stumping a cop friend. Wasn’t anything unusual, just a case where some kids got sick during a college party and two died. They couldn’t figure out of what though so the coroner chalked it up to mild and severe alcohol poisoning. My friend didn’t agree, of course. Said that since the case was odd and could be damaging to the school they just wanted to make it go away. He insisted that it was something else. . .” Reaching into her pocket, she took out her phone and pulled up some photos then slid it across the desk toward him. “After looking at those pictures, I had to agree. That doesn’t look like any alcohol poisoning I’ve seen before. After I got back in New York there was a similar case followed by the newest one that came across my desk tonight. Been lucky so far there’s only 5 deaths, but tonight I stumbled upon a connection: you. Well, rather your booze.” She leaned back, folding her hands in her lap. Cassandra would let him look through the pictures of the different cases. The symptoms displayed there were a far cry from alcohol poisoning. Some fell in line well enough while others stuck out. Perhaps the look of them would jog something in his mind to help them solve this case. Someone might immediately suspect him, but again she wasn’t a fool. He wasn’t going to do something that’d damage his income and his reputation. “What do you think that could be?”
  9. Winter was both welcome and unwelcome to Cassandra. She loved the atmosphere, the layering of clothes, the holiday season, and even the snow, but she could do without the abominable cold. At least this winter — while definitely much colder than previous ones — wasn’t as bad as the winter of 2020. Though that one hadn’t particularly been natural. Of course, it was easy enough to forget the cold when situated before the fire in the library at her and Alec’s place and asleep in his arms when they were both not working, or hidden inside HQ — when the heat decided to cooperate with a building full of magic — doing paperwork and training. It wasn’t quite as easy though when finding oneself out wandering through the blustering winds and flurries cause duty called. It’d be nice if everything could go along peacefully during the cold months, but that was rarely the way of life. Instead another body had dropped on a case that’d been on her desk for a little while now and given the lead that just popped up in connection that meant a little trip to a particular liquor store. “What has you out in this awful weather, Mr. Gallo?” Wouldn’t it just be serendipity that the owner of that connection was himself just stepping out into the chilly night. Cassandra gave her most charming smile as gloved hands tugged down the thick, heavy scarf that wrapped around her neck and shoulders to cover the lower portion of her face. Her long brown hair was contained by a thick, bright yellow beanie that matched the scarf itself, and she was wearing an unbuttoned deep green military coat that reacher her knees over a heavy sweater just a shade lighter and black slacks. She wore her ARMA badge on a strip of leather about her neck so that it hung just below her scarf for anyone that was unsure and anyone with a brain knew that she was armed — and not just with her magic. The ankle-high winter boots she wore today did nothing to increase her 5’5” frame as far as height and that meant having to tilt her neck to look up at the man who was considerably taller. A visit from ARMA wasn’t necessarily bad though sometimes not viewed in a positive light especially by the criminals of New York. Given that they at least had a prior relationship that was built on something akin. . . or perhaps more in the neighborhood of mutual respect she knew that at least he wasn’t going to attack her or do anything stupid. He was level-headed enough not to overreact just cause she approached him on the street. Though the way she planted herself at an angle between him and the door to Thyrsus while casually tucking gloved hands into her pockets would let him know that she wasn’t just passing by the establishment.
  10. There were other places anyone would prefer to be on this cold morning. Crowded into a coffee shop hoping to find a seat just to avoid having to step foot back out the door was not one of them. Even for coffee. Caffeine might be a necessity in Cassandra’s day-to-day existence -- both as a Greene and an ARMA member -- though even this place wasn’t worth dragging herself out into these freezing temps at such an abysmal hour. In comparison to the coffee at home this place was swill. Plus it meant still being at home either still abed or sitting on the study floor reading a book with her head resting against Alec’s legs while he read in his favorite chair. Enjoying the warmth of the fire and the occasional play of his fingers in her hair instead of being jostled around by cranky coffee-junkies - pot, kettle right? Unfortunately, work occasionally called at such atrocious hours and Alec was still out of town on ARMA assignment. That meant standing in a too long line at a register near the door and suffering the sensation of a chill breeze each time the door opened. Gloved hands were shoved into her pocket while the lower half of her face burrowed more deeply into the excessively thick scarf around her neck. Getting coffee at work was possible, but lately it was hard to use the machine built by her brother given that he still hadn’t been found nor had they found any clues. Hope was all there was to be had at this point and it was dwindling. If it wasn’t for Alec and ARMA she’d probably have fallen apart by now. Finally it was her turn, the young man behind the counter eyeballed the ARMA badge resting near her diaphragm. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the uneasiness written all over his face. Probably either a veil crosser or altered individual that had it in their head ARMA was out to make their life miserable just for being different. ARMA was doing more work these days to change public perception, but they had a lot of progress to make yet as far as winning hearts and minds. Once given it only took moments for them to get her order: hot, black coffee in the biggest size they had available. Then began the search for a seat which surprisingly didn’t take long either. A person would have to be completely oblivious not to notice the woman with one arm that everyone was avoiding. Cassandra on the other hand? Didn’t care even a little at the moment as long as a seat was available. Without hesitation, she made her approach. “Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you?" It crossed Cassandra’s mind that the last time someone sat with her at a coffee shop it’d ended up being a magus serial killer. What she could tell of the young woman without being intrusive was that she had a folded cane near her table and wore sunglasses indoors. She made a mental note to use caution if a conversation was started.
  11. http://shadowplay-resources.tumblr.com/post/165762886379/ambient-sounds-for-writers
  12. http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Elven_Customs
  13. http://www.frenchcreoles.com/CreoleCulture/common%20names/commonnames.htm
  14. https://thewritepractice.com/capture-a-moment/
  15. http://www.issendai.com/names/haitian/most-popular-haitian-baby-names.html
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