And yet the elves themselves eventually fell. [Bruce doesn't mean anything by that, but it is a fact - none of them would be here today if the elves were still as powerful as they used to be in the past. Now what is left of them can only be seen by the Dalish, or the city elves that try so hard to scrape by each day.

But he isn't here to start an argument. Bruce sighs quietly and casts his gaze down to his hands, his left rubbing his right wrist, thumb unconsciously tracing the ghost of an old scar hidden beneath the long sleeves of his loose shirts. He doesn't like what he is, its true, and its also true that he could do what Morrigan is hinting, but--

Well. He never had much of a choice in the matter anyway.]

I'm not here to discuss what's right and what's wrong. [Because, in the end, is there even a right and a wrong in this matter? Perhaps there is, but it doesn't apply to him any more - people like him don't deserve that kind of fair judgement. He's lost his right a long time ago.] I made my decision to live out my life the way I choose, not the way I was determined to be. This is the path I choose for myself.

[Even as he says that though he can feel it echoing hollowly in his ears. This was never a life he chose, for he was forced into it. For it is the only way for him to survive in this place. Every other alternative was worse.]