Listening to what's said to him--and hearing what's behind it--is one lesson Myr's learned well from all life has to teach. Even if--especially if--it meant listening to things that don't fit so cleanly into the worldview the Chantry would instill in its mages. His own curiosity by itself would demand as much--let alone the belief that faith left in ignorant darkness is a weak and pale sprout indeed. Without understanding, much is destroyed and lost, she says, and he inclines his head in mute agreement. Just so; while there's much he'll defend the Chantry on, the hierarchy's difficult relationship with "forbidden" knowledge is not among it. Suppressing difficult questions doesn't rid the world of them.
Neither does his willingness to entertain them bind him to the answers others have found. He'd love dearly to pursue the idea of flight, but-- "What would you have us learn instead? We aren't all born to mothers as fierce as yours; we can't all live wholly for our own satisfaction. The magisters of the Imperium don't learn fear, but it's awash in blood magic all the same." While the words are combative, his tone isn't; something will have to be done with them, with him, in the years to come--should Corypheus be defeated, should they have years yet--and no one could argue in good faith the Circles were perfect as they were. If improving the lot for mages under the Chantry meant listening to those outside it--
There's a rattle of movement--and though he goes briefly silent he stands his ground as she leans in, head canted a little to one side at the question she asks. (How is it he's made a habit of encountering the most unnerving folk the Inquisition's got to offer in the library? At least the sense of unease Morrigan brings with her is clean and easily run to its source; she's a warm-blooded predator to the magister's snake.) "It's not the story they tell of blood mages," he replies at length. "Where they surround themselves with mindless puppets. But 'mindless' is a strange look for an empress who's won a civil war and fought off her own cousin--so I'd think a maleficar who wanted to go unnoticed wouldn't be so blatant about it."
A ghost of his usual smile graces the words. "Though if you're damned to suspicion either way by being a mage in a place of influence, what's the point in hiding?"
no subject
Neither does his willingness to entertain them bind him to the answers others have found. He'd love dearly to pursue the idea of flight, but-- "What would you have us learn instead? We aren't all born to mothers as fierce as yours; we can't all live wholly for our own satisfaction. The magisters of the Imperium don't learn fear, but it's awash in blood magic all the same." While the words are combative, his tone isn't; something will have to be done with them, with him, in the years to come--should Corypheus be defeated, should they have years yet--and no one could argue in good faith the Circles were perfect as they were. If improving the lot for mages under the Chantry meant listening to those outside it--
There's a rattle of movement--and though he goes briefly silent he stands his ground as she leans in, head canted a little to one side at the question she asks. (How is it he's made a habit of encountering the most unnerving folk the Inquisition's got to offer in the library? At least the sense of unease Morrigan brings with her is clean and easily run to its source; she's a warm-blooded predator to the magister's snake.) "It's not the story they tell of blood mages," he replies at length. "Where they surround themselves with mindless puppets. But 'mindless' is a strange look for an empress who's won a civil war and fought off her own cousin--so I'd think a maleficar who wanted to go unnoticed wouldn't be so blatant about it."
A ghost of his usual smile graces the words. "Though if you're damned to suspicion either way by being a mage in a place of influence, what's the point in hiding?"