The room Evelyn was sharing with Cassandra had two beds and a desk and a chair at the desk. Opulent, in comparison to the hovels they'd stayed in on their journey to Val Royeaux, but Evelyn had spent a little of her own coin on the journey back to spring for somewhere that would have hot water for a bath.
It still was a hovel, but at least it was a clean hovel. After the fight and subsequent meeting with 'Red Jenny', they were both in desperate need of a wash. Evelyn snorted to herself in the quiet of the room. Her mother would have been appalled to discover the state Evelyn was in, wearing looted armour splattered with blood, mud on her teeth, and hair so knotted she was considering chopping it all off. Not to mention that she was, as mother would have put it, slumming it with the small folk and brawling with thugs.
The door creaked as Cassandra entered, just as filthy as Evelyn was, and she scowled upon noticing the bath.
"An unnecessary indulgence."
"Get naked and get in the bath," Evelyn said. "No need to thank me, darling, although I am letting you have first dibs at the bath I ordered and paid for."
As expected, Cassandra's scowl grew fiercer. Evelyn closed her eyes, schooled away her smile, and sprawled back on the bed. She'd already stripped her armour and tossed it in the corner, with the hope she'd be able to talk the innkeeper's daughter into scrubbing it for her.
"Don't waste it," she said, layering weariness into her voice. Guilt worked wonders on the devout. "Just get in the sodding bath."
After a moment of silence there was a rustle of armour being stripped and clothing set aside. A pause, then a splash. Evelyn resisted the temptation to peek. The quiet sounds of washing and Cassandra's muffled sighs were almost enough to send her to sleep. Almost.
Ha, she was kidding herself. As if she could sleep with the knowledge that Cassandra was naked and bathing less than ten feet away.
"You can't let them get to you, you know," Evelyn said to distract herself from lustful thoughts, instead thinking of the peasants Cassandra had engaged in a shouting match with earlier that afternoon.
"The Maker has sent you to us. If they do not believe, I cannot force them. But I will not tolerate blatant disrespect of what we stand for. Burning an effigy of you is tantamount to burning one of Andraste. This, I will not allow."
Burning an effigy of you is tantamount to burning one of Andraste. Maker's balls, this woman tested her. She'd roll her eyes if they weren't closed.
"First rule of the con," Evelyn said. "Don't fall for the lie you're selling." She waited for a sharp reply that didn't come. Instead, Cassandra sighed.
"I know this is little more than a game to you. I know you do not believe. Perhaps you never will. But I believe enough for the both of us. It is Andraste's will that has brought me here and I will follow it to whatever end may come."
"Here? This room, here?"
"Yes, I suppose, although I am not certain that she bothers herself with the minutiae of drawing baths and bed arrangements."
Evelyn laughed, caught by surprise. "Was that a joke? I was beginning to think that lacking a sense of humour was mandatory for a Seeker."
"I joke."
Evelyn scoffed. "Sure. And I'm Andraste's Herald, sent to save Thedas from creepy green holes in the sky that spit out demons."
There was a splash, the thud of feet on floor, and still Evelyn startled as water dripped onto her face. Her eyes snapped open. Cassandra loomed over her, gaze serious.
"I believe you are."
Evelyn stayed, frozen in place, heart thudding in her chest, until Cassandra stepped back and nodded, seeming satisfied she'd made her point. She was entirely naked, rivulets of water streaming down pale skin. Evelyn looked. She was only human. But she caught herself and clapped a hand over her eyes with a groan. "Put a towel on, Maker damn you," she spluttered, peeking a little between her fingers, if only because Cassandra was evidently unashamed and proud, as was her right.
Cassandra raised a singe eyebrow and smirked. "The bath is free." She turned to dress in nightclothes and towel dry her hair. Evelyn stripped off and slipped into the water, still warm, if not scorching. It soothed the bruises from the fight, the aching muscles in her shoulders.
"You don't want me to believe I'm the Herald, not really. I'll start putting on airs and graces and you'll remember I'm one of those good for nothing nobles you scorn."
"To doubt is to be human."
Evelyn scrubbed the filth from her hair and set to it with the soap. "An answer for everything. Look, darling, I'm willing to put on a show and play the Herald, I've been doing it for months now. But I'm a believer in coincidences and bad luck." She tugged at the knots and gave up with a snarl when her fingers caught in them.
"Not the Maker?"
Fuck, it was like being a child again, forced to recite Chantry verse else not be served dinner. She tugged on her hair a final time, yanking free a few strands with a grimace, and gave it up with a huff. Instead, she took up the flannel and wiped at the mud and blood on her shoulders.
"If the Maker exists, then he doesn't care about us. The cruelty he permits… he is, at best, an ambivalent god. At worst, tyrannical and capricious."
A soft hand on her shoulder made Evelyn jump. She glanced up at Cassandra, whose mouth was set in a firm line. Evelyn's fingers were curled into fists and she'd rubbed raw her arms from scrubbing.
"Heretical," Cassandra murmured. "Some days I believe the Maker sent you to test my faith. But, it is strange. On days like today, my faith is strong. Come, let me help you."
Evelyn took a breath and allowed Cassandra to coax her into lying back so she could draw a brush through her knotted hair. Eyes closed, Evelyn wrapped her fingers around the metal edges of the tub. It was cool to the touch, a pleasant contrast to the warmth of the water. Someone had added scented oils, lavender and rose. She cast aside thoughts of the Chantry and focused on enjoying the soothing motion of the brush.
"You care too much," Cassandra said. "Do you know?"
Evelyn scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous." Evelyn had been accused of many things: selfishness, hedonism, impulsivity… caring too much, ha. Not a chance. It was how she knew the Maker hadn't miraculously chosen her to be the Herald. Of all those to chose from, she'd be the bottom of the list.
"Shit luck for you, really," she said. "My family are devout Andrastians. You got the one member who won't bend for the Chantry."
"Your crudeness does not become you."
"Sound like my mother."
Cassandra fell to silence and Evelyn let it sit. She wiggled her toes and glared at them. She hadn't meant to blather on about her beliefs. Cassandra was hardly the type to find it endearing. To be quick with a knife, to sharpen her tongue on insufferable mages, to be steadfast as an enemy charged, those were the things that Cassandra would admire. Well, those things she could do, too. At least that was something.
"I am done," Cassandra said. "Up, the water is cold."
It was and Evelyn hadn't even noticed. She dried off and got dressed, before eying her bloodied armour with disgust.
"Dunk it in the tub and we'll have someone clean it." Cassandra deposited her own armour and whistled for a servant while Evelyn did as she was bid, only mildly surprised. When it had been taken, Cassandra turned back, the corner of her mouth curled up. "All this indulgence will make me soft."
"That will never happen, I can assure you." Evelyn collapsed onto the bed and burrowed into the covers, weary. She turned on her side to watch Cassandra do the same. As one, they both eyed the candle across the room, shedding a warm, flickering light.
"Andraste's tears." Cassandra began to squirm, as if trying to get untucked from the covers she'd rolled herself in.
"Blasphemy!" Evelyn said, delighted. "Be still, I have this." She wriggled a hand free and palmed a knife from the pack beside her bed. Taking sight, she threw the knife, extinguishing the candle flame and embedding the knife in the wooden wall above the wick.
"Impressive. But now, what will you do if we're attacked in the night."
In the darkness, Evelyn permitted a roll of her eyes. "If you think that I keep only one knife by my bed, you're sorely mistaken."
Cassandra's quiet chuckle warmed her. "Of course. What was I thinking?"
"Probably of the Maker," Evelyn said, instantly regretting it. Why bring up a sore subject after it had been resolved?
"Always," Cassandra said, a little too solemn to be serious. She huffed and her next question was not unexpected. "Why don't you believe? If your family is devout, they would have raised you to be so."
Evelyn reflected on how much of the truth to share and decided on the variation of the truth she liked the best.
"I lost my faith around the same time I discovered that girls were soft and sweet and smelt far better than men. That's not to say men don't have their purpose, but ah… women. I quickly decided I preferred pussy over praying. The Revered Mother informed me that Andraste did not approve and had me whipped when I was caught seducing one of the Chantry Sisters."
"She sounds like a charming woman." Cassandra's dry drawl was reassuring. Evelyn hadn't realised she'd still cared what anyone thought of who she was or what she did. She buried her face in her pillow. Who was she kidding? Just herself, likely.
"To be clear… that is not an opinion all those with faith hold."
"I know," Evelyn said. "But living my life, believing the Maker would damn me for who I looked at or loved, I decided damn the Maker in return. Now the world has gone to shit and I see those who do nothing but sit around and pray and I just want to scream."
"You are a woman of action. That is why you are the Herald and not someone else."
"Not because I was chosen?"
"I believe you were chosen because of who you are. Who am I to question the Maker?"
"Sensible."
"I will leave heretical contemplation to you."
Evelyn smiled. She shifted, looking over at Cassandra's bed, which she could just make out the shape of in the darkness, a glint of moonlight through the curtain illuminating pale sheets and casting deep shadows. Cassandra was looking back, grey eyes shining, and she blinked when their gazes met.
"Goodnight, Evelyn."
"Goodnight, Cassandra," she echoed. Her eyes drooped closed, the quirk of Cassandra's lips into a soft smile the last thing she saw before the embrace of sleep.