WHO: Adalia, Alistair, Freddie, Herian, Loghain, Medicine Seller, Melys, Nathaniel, Notas, Teren. WHAT: Rescuing a king, maybe. WHEN: Early Wintermarch WHERE: An island off Seheron, the Fade NOTES: Violence, disturbing imagery.
"A fair point," Adalia allows, nodding — she clearly hadn't considered it when she made her offer, but now that she has she sees what Herian means. She'd thought that even if they drove off one boat, surely there would be others, but — there could be no guarantee of that, could there? And even if there could, why would she start problems she couldn't guarantee she could fix?
It's a bit of a disappointment, though. She's keen to show off the things she can do.
"I don't understand why people here are so afraid of magic. It's only as dangerous as the person who uses it, same as any sword."
"The magic you proposed would deny a man of coin to feed his family. For some, that is reason enough to be afraid." The loss of income, the loss of the ability to care for those dear to them, was an alarming prospect.
She inhales, though, and watches the water. "A few years before I myself came into my abilities, there was a fire in the Starkhaven alienage. It burned down a whole row of houses, killed some of the alienage's people in their sleep. The cause was young mage, angry with his father. When my powers began to manifest, I accidentally struck a city guard with lightning. Not enough to kill, but he was wounded, and if it had been someone younger? They might have been more gravely hurt."
She pauses, wondering if Adalia will grasp it. "The difference is that anyone can learn to wield a sword, but not anyone can learn magic, and very few can learn to counter it. Not all mages learn to control their abilities, or they use it to subject others to their will, and magic can be used to control and body the mind; pacts can be made with demons. A sword is dangerous, but it is nothing in the face of magic. They are right to be afraid, and mages who think others wrong to be afraid of us are naive to how much of a threat we pose."
"I'm not naive," Adalia insists, though... it wouldn't really be all that wrong to call her such. Naive to Thedas' rules and ways of life, at the very least.
"To pretend as though an untrained sorcerer is the worst thing that could happen to someone, and acting as though locking you all up will mitigate all the problems you could cause — that's naive. When has treating people as dangerous ever done anything except make them dangerous? Extremists are made from subjugation and fear, Kirkwall itself is an example of that."
A particularly callous way of saying 'if y'all hadn't fucked Anders up so bad Kirkwall would still have a Chantry', but Adalia has no sympathy for Circles or the Chantry as an institution — no one should die for sorcerer (mage, whatever) liberation, but if they do it is the fault of a system that teaches sorcerers that they are weapons and then expects them to find peace, not the sorcerers themselves.
"And if they are not dangerous to others, then they are almost certainly dangerous to themselves — or is it so bad here that sorcerers don't even count as people, and we shouldn't care when one wants to off themself from shame?"
Herian inhales, and exhales softly. This is something she has become used to. Being lectured and reprimanded by those who have no knowledge of her is par the course. Not elven enough, not human enough, not knight enough, not mage enough. There is no good in wallowing in it; it is simply reality.
"If I tell you some of the good that the Chantry has done, would that be of any interest? I've no desire to lecture, but there are more nuances to the debate than some would present. I do not deny the crimes done by the Chantry; it is an order that has great potential to do good, that was brought into being by a woman of great character, but I have learned more and more that the Chantry and the Circles inflicted many hurts not in keeping with her teachings. What happened in Kirkwall and what lead to it should never have cause to be repeated."
Let her be clear; she believes in doing what is right. She may not speak passionately, or may not seem to, when that constant, careful control seems to weigh her every word, when she holds herself as upright and steady as a statue. "There is not honour," (no compassion, no justice) "in the abuses that transpired, but to say that is all the Circles were is patently false."
"Absolutely," Adalia says, and both her tone and her expression are entirely earnest — one thing she was taught in Candlekeep which she tries to carry with her wherever she goes is the imperative that both sides of any argument must be heard in order to come to the correct conclusion. She has only heard Anders' side of things in any detail, and from the way he tells it the Circles are complexes of horror and torture whose only conceivable escape is often death or Tranquility. There must be some middle ground she hasn't yet heard of — Inessa hinted at it, at the very least — and Adalia wants to know what it is.
"What I have heard of the Chantry, and of Circles in particular, makes it seem as though they are a bomb factory which has become suddenly surprised that bombs explode. Surely it can't have escaped anyone's notice that if you raise people thinking they're good for nothing but blowing things up, the first thing they'll do when they achieve freedom is blow things up."
She's not lecturing — or at least, doesn't mean to. She is honestly curious, in a way, if this has even occurred to anyone in Thedas — surely it must have, but if it had then they would never be doing things this way.
Where to begin? Where to leave out unnecessary details that might sound as little more than a bid for pity?
"I grew up in the Starkhaven alienage. As child born of a human and an elf, there is much cause for distrust. Even family can hesitate to call you one of their own; your loyalty is question. And though my parents... did their very best, in all ways, the alienage was rife with sickness and hunger and poverty." It is not easy to talk about, but it comes with the same calm as before. Her hurts are not the real point, here. "These circumstances were not unique to Starkhaven, nor to elves. I cannot imagine they are unique to Thedas," she says, in acknowledgement. "The Circles... gave me a future I would never have otherwise had. I missed my family, deeply. Pray do not mistake me for someone devoid of emotion or affection."
She does her utmost to remain impassive, but the greater part of that is because her emotions seem to burn too intensely, at times, that to compromise control might be to compromise her conduct and her ability to serve. "For the first time in my life I had a place to sleep not infested with damp. I could learn to read, never went to bed hungry, could... aspire to sometimes where I could protect and help people, instead of being cowed and afraid, where sickness did not seem to fall as constantly as waves on a beach. The Circles gave me opportunities and broader sense of kinship in ways I had hardly known before. Elves and humans were on equal terms. We could determine our purpose and follow our passions in learning."
Herian shrugs, just a little. "I apologise, I am not... gifted with words, or expression." She isn't doing this justice, she thinks, is forgetting important pieces. "My experiences are my own, just as those who lived in other Circles have their own. Great hope has been offered by the Chantry, as well as great despair. I think... the opportunity to learn and to discover the potential that you hold in an environment where you are safe is what Circles can and should be."
Adalia listens, and she tries, she really does, to put herself in the shoes of someone so entirely alienated that the Circle would be a boon and not a prison. Could she say she would think differently of Candlekeep, if she'd had the opportunity to form memories before she ended up there? Maybe she'd have been grateful for the respite from the damp as well — maybe her family would have been such that she would have eagerly glommed onto any sense of kinshp she could find there and be grateful for it.
It's an entirely foreign thought exercise for her — she has never had anything to compare Candlekeep to, and so its merits, whatever they are, are just givens. A bed of her own and stone to keep out the damp are great things, it seems, but they did nothing to keep her from wanting more. Is that a fault of ingratitude, then, or a tragedy on the part of these sorcerers, who don't know to reach for all that is within their grasp?
"I understand, I think," she says slowly, mulling over her words and thoughts carefully. "The Circle offered you security, and the world had taught you to be afraid of your abilities, so safety seemed an adequate exchange for freedom."
There is little judgment in her voice — much as Adalia abhors the idea of giving up freedom for any reason, she's done similar, after a fashion. Still —
"I'm sorry, I've tried, but it still sounds to me like your Circles trick you into thinking you need them. Not that I think sorcerers should just run around throwing lightning bolts at people until they get what they want, but there is always a middle ground between murder and complete subjugation to the point you're grateful when you get scraps of decency. And if there isn't —"
Make one. Too naive? Adalia moves through the world as if thngs will be so because she wills them, because that is how magic works. She wills a lightning bolt to be where it was not before, she decides it should be there, and it is. She decides that Thedas should completely and utterly reform its institutions and opinions... There would be work to do, of course. Not even a spell gets done with will alone. But there will never be a change until someone decides there should be and takes the first step.
"If there isn't, you make one. You're all already well on the way. Circles as magical universities, places of learning and instruction — that makes complete sense. Send children there to learn, then back to their families to help with the summer harvest — or whatever, I don't know, I'm just thinking out loud. But as it stands, the Circle just sounds like a jail that's better than the alternative."
"I feel that you are quick insult my dignity and my intelligence," she replies, mildly. "I know not if it is because my experience differs from that presented to you first, or if I have caused some offence or faltered in my explanation."
It is very possibly the latter. She is not engaging or dramatic in the way that some are; not persuasive with her wit, not an artist at storytelling. She used to be, but that part of her was tied to brashness and impulsivity, and she dreads it is as likely to wound as it is to do good. She could not afford to be brash, to be emotional, when so much in the world was at stake. No; Herian remains entirely steady. That is what a knight should be, steady.
"I experienced great kindness from many in the Circles, and more than simple scraps of dignity. Please respect my word for what it is, and do not dismiss it so lightly. Calling the Circle a jail..." she swallows, and perhaps that gesture is the sole indication of how insulting she found that remark, jail, how painful.
No. Focus. This is not about me. This is not about my hurts.
"Our foremost duty is to serve the purposes of this mission, and I've not want to cause disturbance within our party. If your wish is to dismiss me as someone foolish or deceived, so be it, but I would pray you spare me your prejudices until we have completed the task the Warden has begged our assistance in." She keeps her tone even, respectful.
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no subject
It's a bit of a disappointment, though. She's keen to show off the things she can do.
"I don't understand why people here are so afraid of magic. It's only as dangerous as the person who uses it, same as any sword."
no subject
She inhales, though, and watches the water. "A few years before I myself came into my abilities, there was a fire in the Starkhaven alienage. It burned down a whole row of houses, killed some of the alienage's people in their sleep. The cause was young mage, angry with his father. When my powers began to manifest, I accidentally struck a city guard with lightning. Not enough to kill, but he was wounded, and if it had been someone younger? They might have been more gravely hurt."
She pauses, wondering if Adalia will grasp it. "The difference is that anyone can learn to wield a sword, but not anyone can learn magic, and very few can learn to counter it. Not all mages learn to control their abilities, or they use it to subject others to their will, and magic can be used to control and body the mind; pacts can be made with demons. A sword is dangerous, but it is nothing in the face of magic. They are right to be afraid, and mages who think others wrong to be afraid of us are naive to how much of a threat we pose."
no subject
"To pretend as though an untrained sorcerer is the worst thing that could happen to someone, and acting as though locking you all up will mitigate all the problems you could cause — that's naive. When has treating people as dangerous ever done anything except make them dangerous? Extremists are made from subjugation and fear, Kirkwall itself is an example of that."
A particularly callous way of saying 'if y'all hadn't fucked Anders up so bad Kirkwall would still have a Chantry', but Adalia has no sympathy for Circles or the Chantry as an institution — no one should die for sorcerer (mage, whatever) liberation, but if they do it is the fault of a system that teaches sorcerers that they are weapons and then expects them to find peace, not the sorcerers themselves.
"And if they are not dangerous to others, then they are almost certainly dangerous to themselves — or is it so bad here that sorcerers don't even count as people, and we shouldn't care when one wants to off themself from shame?"
no subject
"If I tell you some of the good that the Chantry has done, would that be of any interest? I've no desire to lecture, but there are more nuances to the debate than some would present. I do not deny the crimes done by the Chantry; it is an order that has great potential to do good, that was brought into being by a woman of great character, but I have learned more and more that the Chantry and the Circles inflicted many hurts not in keeping with her teachings. What happened in Kirkwall and what lead to it should never have cause to be repeated."
Let her be clear; she believes in doing what is right. She may not speak passionately, or may not seem to, when that constant, careful control seems to weigh her every word, when she holds herself as upright and steady as a statue. "There is not honour," (no compassion, no justice) "in the abuses that transpired, but to say that is all the Circles were is patently false."
no subject
"What I have heard of the Chantry, and of Circles in particular, makes it seem as though they are a bomb factory which has become suddenly surprised that bombs explode. Surely it can't have escaped anyone's notice that if you raise people thinking they're good for nothing but blowing things up, the first thing they'll do when they achieve freedom is blow things up."
She's not lecturing — or at least, doesn't mean to. She is honestly curious, in a way, if this has even occurred to anyone in Thedas — surely it must have, but if it had then they would never be doing things this way.
no subject
"I grew up in the Starkhaven alienage. As child born of a human and an elf, there is much cause for distrust. Even family can hesitate to call you one of their own; your loyalty is question. And though my parents... did their very best, in all ways, the alienage was rife with sickness and hunger and poverty." It is not easy to talk about, but it comes with the same calm as before. Her hurts are not the real point, here. "These circumstances were not unique to Starkhaven, nor to elves. I cannot imagine they are unique to Thedas," she says, in acknowledgement. "The Circles... gave me a future I would never have otherwise had. I missed my family, deeply. Pray do not mistake me for someone devoid of emotion or affection."
She does her utmost to remain impassive, but the greater part of that is because her emotions seem to burn too intensely, at times, that to compromise control might be to compromise her conduct and her ability to serve. "For the first time in my life I had a place to sleep not infested with damp. I could learn to read, never went to bed hungry, could... aspire to sometimes where I could protect and help people, instead of being cowed and afraid, where sickness did not seem to fall as constantly as waves on a beach. The Circles gave me opportunities and broader sense of kinship in ways I had hardly known before. Elves and humans were on equal terms. We could determine our purpose and follow our passions in learning."
Herian shrugs, just a little. "I apologise, I am not... gifted with words, or expression." She isn't doing this justice, she thinks, is forgetting important pieces. "My experiences are my own, just as those who lived in other Circles have their own. Great hope has been offered by the Chantry, as well as great despair. I think... the opportunity to learn and to discover the potential that you hold in an environment where you are safe is what Circles can and should be."
no subject
It's an entirely foreign thought exercise for her — she has never had anything to compare Candlekeep to, and so its merits, whatever they are, are just givens. A bed of her own and stone to keep out the damp are great things, it seems, but they did nothing to keep her from wanting more. Is that a fault of ingratitude, then, or a tragedy on the part of these sorcerers, who don't know to reach for all that is within their grasp?
"I understand, I think," she says slowly, mulling over her words and thoughts carefully. "The Circle offered you security, and the world had taught you to be afraid of your abilities, so safety seemed an adequate exchange for freedom."
There is little judgment in her voice — much as Adalia abhors the idea of giving up freedom for any reason, she's done similar, after a fashion. Still —
"I'm sorry, I've tried, but it still sounds to me like your Circles trick you into thinking you need them. Not that I think sorcerers should just run around throwing lightning bolts at people until they get what they want, but there is always a middle ground between murder and complete subjugation to the point you're grateful when you get scraps of decency. And if there isn't —"
Make one. Too naive? Adalia moves through the world as if thngs will be so because she wills them, because that is how magic works. She wills a lightning bolt to be where it was not before, she decides it should be there, and it is. She decides that Thedas should completely and utterly reform its institutions and opinions... There would be work to do, of course. Not even a spell gets done with will alone. But there will never be a change until someone decides there should be and takes the first step.
"If there isn't, you make one. You're all already well on the way. Circles as magical universities, places of learning and instruction — that makes complete sense. Send children there to learn, then back to their families to help with the summer harvest — or whatever, I don't know, I'm just thinking out loud. But as it stands, the Circle just sounds like a jail that's better than the alternative."
no subject
It is very possibly the latter. She is not engaging or dramatic in the way that some are; not persuasive with her wit, not an artist at storytelling. She used to be, but that part of her was tied to brashness and impulsivity, and she dreads it is as likely to wound as it is to do good. She could not afford to be brash, to be emotional, when so much in the world was at stake. No; Herian remains entirely steady. That is what a knight should be, steady.
"I experienced great kindness from many in the Circles, and more than simple scraps of dignity. Please respect my word for what it is, and do not dismiss it so lightly. Calling the Circle a jail..." she swallows, and perhaps that gesture is the sole indication of how insulting she found that remark, jail, how painful.
No. Focus. This is not about me. This is not about my hurts.
"Our foremost duty is to serve the purposes of this mission, and I've not want to cause disturbance within our party. If your wish is to dismiss me as someone foolish or deceived, so be it, but I would pray you spare me your prejudices until we have completed the task the Warden has begged our assistance in." She keeps her tone even, respectful.