Leliana is silent a long while, content to listen, to absorb and to watch and dissect Clarke's every explanation, every motion. There was much that could be given away over the course of a story - it was rare to meet one who could withstand scrutiny for extended periods of time over such stories when they were lying. Inevitably there would be something. Perhaps something small, perhaps even something she did not realise until picking over it again later in her mind, but always something.
"You did what you believed was necessary." That she understood all too well, and as she mulls over the circumstances as Clarke painted them, she is not so certain she could condemn the decision made. Not simply, not easily, not without undercutting much of what she herself had done. "Such moves do not always play out as they ought."
Painfully aware of how condescending that could sound, Leliana pauses and leans forward, and she hopes the sincerity in it is apparent in her tone or in her gaze. There are times when she is so used to calculating that she is not nearly so good as she'd like to be at being genuine. Other days she is too genuine and not calculating enough. The balance seems eternally in flux. But many things did not play out as they might have; Justinia's ultimatum to Celene, the White Spire, Kirkwall. She did not feel entirely at ease with their decision to leave Branka with the Anvil, and that was a decade past.
"That you do not shirk responsibility means much with me, Clarke." It is more than most adults do. She cannot imagine the weight such a thing would leave on one who by all rights should be little more than a child. At Clarke's age, though, Leliana had long been under Marjolaine's sway. The difference was that Leliana has relished it.
Clarke's hand had been forced, from what she can see. She inhales, exhales, and let's the lack of breath hold a moment. "Desperation is one thing the different people of the Inquisition know well." It is something she knows well, that she has become far better reacquainted with these past months than she'd thought was possible.
wow fucking ten years later i'm sorry D:
"You did what you believed was necessary." That she understood all too well, and as she mulls over the circumstances as Clarke painted them, she is not so certain she could condemn the decision made. Not simply, not easily, not without undercutting much of what she herself had done. "Such moves do not always play out as they ought."
Painfully aware of how condescending that could sound, Leliana pauses and leans forward, and she hopes the sincerity in it is apparent in her tone or in her gaze. There are times when she is so used to calculating that she is not nearly so good as she'd like to be at being genuine. Other days she is too genuine and not calculating enough. The balance seems eternally in flux. But many things did not play out as they might have; Justinia's ultimatum to Celene, the White Spire, Kirkwall. She did not feel entirely at ease with their decision to leave Branka with the Anvil, and that was a decade past.
"That you do not shirk responsibility means much with me, Clarke." It is more than most adults do. She cannot imagine the weight such a thing would leave on one who by all rights should be little more than a child. At Clarke's age, though, Leliana had long been under Marjolaine's sway. The difference was that Leliana has relished it.
Clarke's hand had been forced, from what she can see. She inhales, exhales, and let's the lack of breath hold a moment. "Desperation is one thing the different people of the Inquisition know well." It is something she knows well, that she has become far better reacquainted with these past months than she'd thought was possible.