WHO: Wren Coupe, Melys, Casimir Lyov, Finch Wicker + YOU
WHAT: Catchall for the month
WHEN: Mid- whatever this month is i give up
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Will edit as appropriate
Editing these in as I go, if you’d like a specific starter please hmu on plurk or discord (oeste#8807). ♥
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no subject
"All spells, all castings, including Silence," he says before nodding. "And I have. Kit is of the opinion that Benedict is in more danger from external threats than others are from him, and I agree. He's a child. A spoiled, overgrown child, to be certain, but he's not running around using blood magic or trying to enslave people."
Anders shrugs as he leans against the table, looking over the mess of marks on the map. One set of marks looks like a happy face and he's fairly certain that was an accident, that it's meant to represent something he hasn't figured out yet. He touches it tentatively to see if the ink is still wet. "Treat him like a criminal, scrutinize him at every turn, have Templars over him, and you will not be surprised with what you get - someone angry, resentful, bitter, and ready to fight the south. Give him a chance to come into his own as a person, loose the chain, and he could grow. Why not take the opportunity, when you can always blame mages if it doesn't work out?"
no subject
"Why do you suppose a mage would not entail scrutiny?"
She'll not dispute the rest; this matter hasn't been hers to own for some time, has only recently fallen again under domain. A conscious effort to separate herself, in the wake of that day's small disaster, to focus upon Vedici. Whatever actions were taken to handle him needed to be above the easy accusation of revenge.
Perhaps that was ill-done. It leaves her playing catchup now, with problems left to linger too long by other hands. It leaves the entire process porous to miscommunication. The ink smears beneath his finger, quite wet — much of the page is saturated, layered too heavily to dry.
"And why propose this through you?"
no subject
"Do you suppose every person entails scrutiny? Or only those who were born a certain way?" While he's pretty sure the answers are no and yes respectively, he'll leave an opening for her to surprise him just in case. "And no one's proposed this through me. Benedict is miserable, being used, but he did not ask me to intercede. All he did was express how caged he feels. Has he had a trial? Has someone rendered judgment? Or is he falling through the cracks in a way that's not right?"
Falling through the cracks because he's a mage? Because no one in charge cares enough to deal with the issues connected to Benedict? Because he's young and has no idea how to advocate for himself other than throwing a fit? It could be any number of reasons, but at the end of the day he feels it's more likely than not unjustified.
no subject
"You mistake me," And that's no surprise, a common frustration of the past few days. "You say that he is scrutinized at every turn. Why do you believe that a mage would entail less of this? The Imperium eats its own."
As they've already tried of Benedict.
"It is not a matter of opinion that the boy's life has been threatened." A matter of a cut throat, perhaps, and Anders intimately familiar of it. "To set him loose is to sign his death warrant, and one which would come at the Inquisition's expense. The greater the freedom he is offered, the more information that he gleans of us — the more closely he must be watched. Do you understand?"
An honest question, she is speaking quickly. Her head tips aside, owlish: Are you keeping up?
"If he is taken, and tortured, and quietly disposed of, then so be it. But I will not let our work here fall with him."
She glances down to stipple a fringe of red through Eastern Orlais. That Anders has taken up the cause for his own agenda is no particular surprise, but that Benedict's other advocates haven't stepped forward beside him? She has to wonder whether he'd bothered to ask; what the response had been.
"I am not pleased to afford manpower to it. But Artemaeus is impulsive, and hunted by our enemy, and likely to run. We've a duty to him."
To his life, and not his misery. The latter's a fact of the former.
no subject
Or a boy. Definitely a boy, in this case.
"It will be less manpower you have to give from the Templars, and it will give him a dignity that being watched by Templars does not. I'm not saying set him loose, because yes. His life is at risk from outside hands, as well as his own lack of..." Is there a polite word for it? "...life experience. But let the mages take charge of him, because he is one of ours. And as we are people, we do not by default entail constant scrutiny. We are not the Imperium and I do not want us to be the Imperium."
He pauses, looks at the mess of a map, and tries to weigh whether or not he should explain further, show the heart of the matter. At this point it can't hurt, he decides. They're having a conversation and neither of them has gotten upset yet.
"It sets a precedent within the Inquisition, Templars having authority over him, a return to the old ways. He's terrified, and do you know how exhausting it is to live in terror? He's no genius, but when you're constantly afraid of Templars, when you have to be constantly afraid of that, you're even less able to make smart choices. I want to let him breathe and live what life he can have here. With guards, yes. He's no friend to the Inquisition. But with mage guards, and maybe one day he will be friend rather than antagonistic."
If the boy continues to be starved of security or comfort, they'll never reach him, he feels. And Benedict will be held captive through all the time it takes to fight Corypheus which is a disservice and cruelty. The fight has already been going for over two years. It may take many more.
no subject
"As a people, prisoners do."
Entail scrutiny. Before he can take up that particular refrain to its tediously obvious conclusion (yes, yes, prisoners and Circles, and has everyone always been so predictable?) —
"He is not one of yours. You would both do better to avoid public association; you only endanger the other's cause." It's advice she'd not usually spare, nor in such blithe tones. How easily it all wants to spill forth now. "Your presence reminds an observer that magic is not harmless. And how do you believe it would be read? To court fondness between the Tevene ruling class, and the rebellion?"
She shakes her head; isn't speaking of Benedict now at all.
"We have seen how that ends. You say that you do not want an Imperium. If you ever wish to be believed, there will need be evidence to that end."
no subject
She doesn't look well. The odds on her allowing him to check her for a fever are slim to none, but if she falls over from exhaustion after... no, decorating a map is not going to do it. But he has more reason to linger than the fact that she's actually speaking with him, discussing, and it's the way candlelight is falling on her skin.
"The evidence is that I want equality. I don't want a lower class that's non-mages, because as it's wrong to break up families and destroy lives due to someone being born with something, it's equally wrong to do it to those born without. But I cannot fight against every injustice."
Half the time he can't fight at all; his past and layers of politics block him at many turns.
"What I can do is seek decent treatment for a mage, who by sake of being a mage, is one of mine. And privately, no less. There's not public association." He's pretty sure. "I'm not asking for him to be put into my custody. I know no one would want me as guard over him, and as a Spirit Healer there's a clear priority on where I should be spending my time. I'm simply asking that his custody be given over to mages as we've many capable ones here. Please at least think on it. And think on him actually getting some sort of trial rather than being kept indefinitely without clear charges other than 'rather inept when it comes to attacking Vedici.'"
Templars have never given over power willingly. They hadn't even when he'd been legally conscripted. But Benedict deserves to have someone trying on his behalf and the mages to come deserve the same thing. They cannot simply go quietly into Templar hands now, because then the same will be expected in the future too.
no subject
"It is not about what you want. Is it what they will see you to want." Pointless. Pointless as ever. "And about understanding why they do. You do not grasp that, you never have."
Her head shakes again (her hands); an elbow knocks into the wall with bruising force. It doesn’t seem to register.
"Telling them that you do not want what they fear, it is not enough. You’ve given them no reason to believe it. By adopting this cause, you wound your own. Any Divine with an eye to concessions will rail twice as hard against the North, that she might not face a second schism. You cannot advocate isolationism, while pretending power will not collect as it has elsewhere. Not without more than assurances to give."
She's far off-topic now; has hardly listened to the later words he’s said. Hasn't seemed to quite realize what all she has. Instead,
"Maker," Winded, now. Looking out the darkened window. A hand to the desk, bracing. She coughs. The train of thought sounds lost: "Maker's sake."
no subject
"How can I advocate help for all mages and leave one behind? A younger one in a foreign land, no less?" It's no longer an argument, and the questions aren't even so much to her as they are to the world at large. Benedict is no innocent and he is no asset, but it feels like they're losing sight of persons to focus on the group and he doesn't think that's a good path to follow.
It's worrying that it might be the only path.
"I don't grasp it, no. I'm not made for politics. But I'm involved over my head and either I try to tread murky, confusing water, or drown and drag others down with me. The latter is unconscionable." He's a symbol, for good or ill, and if he stops he'll hurt the cause. "And you are not well. Sit, at the least?"
If she ignores him... He doesn't know. He's not prepared to nudge a kneecap and catch her and use that to convince her to rest; somehow that feels like something she'd clue into while most he uses it on don't. They tend to be running high enough fevers the fall seems natural.
no subject
A little dignity. It'd be a mistake to search for much meaning of it, at this point. She glances at last to the cup, the chair. Recollects:
"I am fine." Sure, Jan. At length, she eases to sit. A moment only — leg already jumping — any longer and she’s going to go out of her own skin. "You call it politics so you do not have to listen."
The irony doesn’t appear to sink in.
"That is all it is. It is listening when it is hard." Her teeth chatter. "That is all it ever was."
no subject
"It's finding a way to get listened to as well, at the very least." Like now. "Like when a healer is saying outright that someone isn't well and being ignored. You've a cough, you're clearly dealing with chills, you're, you're drawing on the maps, Coupe, and those aren't cheap. You've never struck me as wasteful when it comes to goods."
There's a beat, and then he's pushing the cup into her personal space. None of the ones who wandered in would stay put long enough to really get help and he can't see him convincing Coupe of anything. Water may be the only thing he can get her to pay attention to.
"There's saying things in ways that get it listened to, which I'm clearly not good at as you're on your feet again."
no subject
How, she doesn't specify. Wren shakes her head.
"If you listen," At last, a grip for the cup. She drinks — forgets — sets it aside once more. "You learn what others want said. What you would want said. If you listen, you begin to hear yourself, echoed. It all echoes."
Down in the veins.