It was one thing to hear about someone having mutilated bodies, and another thing entirely to hear it implied that the mutilation had been in the name of some macabre art form or whimsy. But to hear that these bodies had been those of children?
Hermione couldn't breathe for a few moments, suffocated by pure disgust. What she'd seen the Inquisition do had been a matter of necessity, or at least it could be argued as such. But what Iskandar was describing-... there were no words in any language she knew of that could describe the injustice of it all.
Remembering about someone in Thedas who'd only recently fought off a corrupted spirit of Justice, she scrambled to get back onto something resembling neutral ground, not wanting to make herself susceptible to any emotion so strong that it would attract anything from across the Fade. It was hard to focus on what was being said after that, but the weight of Iskandar's hand on her shoulder was at least a little grounding, even if she found it hard to believe in his optimism. How can she believe in it, when the companions she'd been with had been the ones who'd done something so terrible?
"Life isn't always as simple as seeing the best and the worst of people," she murmured after a moment. "Sometimes, a single person can embody both of those extremes." She thought again of Anders, of the fact that she liked and respected him despite the fact that he was an admitted terrorist. What kind of world can Thedas be if she counted him among her closest friends here?
"But... I'd like to say you're right. It's just very hard to see that sort of thing when you're in the thick of it. I'm sorry your friend had to see that. And you, too. I-... I've seen too many people die needlessly, and far too many of them had been children. It doesn't get easier."
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Hermione couldn't breathe for a few moments, suffocated by pure disgust. What she'd seen the Inquisition do had been a matter of necessity, or at least it could be argued as such. But what Iskandar was describing-... there were no words in any language she knew of that could describe the injustice of it all.
Remembering about someone in Thedas who'd only recently fought off a corrupted spirit of Justice, she scrambled to get back onto something resembling neutral ground, not wanting to make herself susceptible to any emotion so strong that it would attract anything from across the Fade. It was hard to focus on what was being said after that, but the weight of Iskandar's hand on her shoulder was at least a little grounding, even if she found it hard to believe in his optimism. How can she believe in it, when the companions she'd been with had been the ones who'd done something so terrible?
"Life isn't always as simple as seeing the best and the worst of people," she murmured after a moment. "Sometimes, a single person can embody both of those extremes." She thought again of Anders, of the fact that she liked and respected him despite the fact that he was an admitted terrorist. What kind of world can Thedas be if she counted him among her closest friends here?
"But... I'd like to say you're right. It's just very hard to see that sort of thing when you're in the thick of it. I'm sorry your friend had to see that. And you, too. I-... I've seen too many people die needlessly, and far too many of them had been children. It doesn't get easier."