faderift | [open] Te Vene or Not Te Vene

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[open] Te Vene or Not Te Vene

WHO: Benedict and you
WHAT: Learn how not to get immediately killed in Tevinter
WHEN: Justinian
WHERE: the Gallows library
NOTES: will update as needed

In the summer evenings, Benedict can be found holding court in the library, sitting at a table stacked with books and usually bearing a glass of wine or tea. Unless occupied by his pupils, he's often doodling listlessly on a sheet of parchment, quite a lot of them having amassed around him over the idle hours.

As advertised in his crystal announcement, he's here to teach the language and customs of the Tevinter Imperium, at least enough to make a successful tourist or, Maker forbid, prisoner.

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Of course a Qunari would be interested in their magic. Is this how easily he's succumbed to the Inquisition, that he'll sell their secrets for... well, nothing?

"It... doesn't differ all that much," he murmurs, hunching his shoulders slightly, an anxious boy trying to be a confident man, "but the teaching and... organization of it does. It's much more open, in Tevinter. A proud familial trait, not a blemish to be hidden away."

The anxious little hunch just makes Alacruun quite sure that he's on the right track by pressing for more information. The young man is... well. Nervous is an understatement. He cocks his head and his horns catch the light for a moment.

"Something I agree with them on, as a matter of fact. Where I'm from it wasn't considered heresy to practice magic. It was a honored school of study. What sort of education do they use? Academies? Informal tutors?"

"Tutors," Benedict confirms, finding some footing in the unhappy conversation, "academies perhaps, but not for the altus. Private teachings in our families' preferred schools, for the most part." He realizes he actually doesn't know what the lower classes do.

"Oh, fascinating," Alacruun murmurs, "No great centers of learning? No colleges of wizards? That's a bit disappointing, honestly. I was expecting something a bit more... formalized than mere clannish in-breeding."

Probably a poor choice of words.

"Well-- the Circles," he murmurs, bristling slightly at Alacruun's phrasing. In-breeding?!
"I admit I don't know much about them," he continues, trying not to grit his teeth, trying to move past the slight, "except that they're quite different from the ones here."

"Different how?" Alacruun chooses to ignore Benedict's frustration. He has questions to ask and to get answered. His frustration is a byproduct, but not all that important to him.

"I'm a foreigner here, after all, and would be in the Imperium. This is all brand new."

"Different in that they're places of common learning, as you said, and not prisons guarded by Templars." On this, it would seem, he feels quite strongly. "Mages aren't forced into them, and forced to abide by the laws of those who have no understanding of them."

"Well, that's a relief. One would think magic users were all monsters, based on how I've heard they're treated in these parts..." Alacruun sighs. Apparently they can agree on that much when it comes to magic.

"I take it the education is rather different, too. None of this abomination nonsense..."

A little surprised that they've found common ground, Benedict eyes the man for several moments before speaking again. "Yes. Though we are taught the dangers of possession, as any decent mage should be."

"We don't really have that, where I'm from, so it was never a part of my own magical upbringing," Alacruun responds breezily, "Although I understand the danger here is quite real, although much overblown by the Chantry."

He has a low opinion of the Chantry in general. The fact that they seemingly think of him as a walking time bomb doesn't much help his attitude.

They're not the only ones who think of him as such. Benedict's unease no doubt has as much to do with Alacruun's mage status as his Qunari status. "Yes," he answers simply, warily, "and-- being that you're not from around here, I take it you're unfamiliar with the particular form magic tends to take in your race?"

"Rather. I wasn't born as a qunari, if that's what you mean, and I've only read vague descriptions of their system of magic since my arrival. It seems... distasteful. Devoid of any sort of respect for the art or the skill it would take to truly master it," Alacruun sniffs. He doesn't think much of their control methods.

"I thought I would be hard-set to find something worse than the Chantry, but here we are."

"We're in agreement," Bene replies, feeling himself relax ever so slightly, tension going out of him that he didn't know he was holding. This person isn't going to go off like a bomb in the library.

"...being a Saarebas?" he asks, carefully.

"Yes. That," Alacruun replies, lips pressed into a thin, humorless smile, "Being treated like some sort of pet hawk or an attack dog, with the possibility of having my mouth sewn shut if I ever felt like achieving something for myself. No better than the Quiet. Worse, in a way, although at least the Quiet have the contentment of not truly knowing what it is they've lost..."

Both make his skin crawl, honestly. One large hand curls into a fist.

"I have had quite enough of prisons in my lifetime. I won't allow myself to be chained again."

That small part of Benedict relaxes again; the stranger is speaking against practices of the Qunari, not the Imperium. This is a good path to be on.
"I agree, it's hideous," he's quick to reply, and a strange glint reaches his eye when Alacruun mentions prisons. A person of Benedict's status and breeding shouldn't be able to empathize, and yet...
"One hopes you never will be again," he replies, quietly.

"One hopes," Alacruun murmurs in agreement, "I certainly don't plan to allow myself to be imprisoned again. Here or anywhere else. It was... a trying time and I suffered for it."

Honestly, Alacruun has probably never really recovered from his long period of isolation. It's given him an obsession with completing his own objective, even after a rational examination of the facts in front of hi mwould tell him that he ought to have stopped long ago.

The conversation has made Benedict even more uncomfortable, and quiet in a way that's unusual to him. He nods slowly to Alacruun, meeting his eyes briefly, a shimmer of true vulnerability passing over his face before he looks away again. It would seem neither of them is alone in having experienced such things.

Alacruun's eyes spark with interest for a brief moment before he simply nods in reply. There's not much more to say to that. They've both apparently been on the wrong side of a prison door before.

"I hope your experience was more pleasant than mine."

Not really, but saying it might get some more information out of him.

"Pleasant is... a word entirely removed from the experience," Benedict replies, looking at the desk, and finds for some reason that, this time, it's difficult to talk about. To those he knows with the power to change things, he'll rant and rail and complain endlessly about how he was treated, but meeting someone who went through the same thing only reminds him of how ultimately humiliating and frightening it was.

"Indeed. But there are degrees and I still remain hopeful that it wasn't... as unpleasant as it could be," Alacruun muses. It's not really a sentimental thought so much as a polite one. And a bit self-centered. He's fairly sure his suffering was unique.

"Mm."
The conversation reaches a standstill, and although Bene finds that he's less afraid of Alacruun than he was, he's still at something of a loss for words.

"...did you have any further questions?"

"I always have questions," Alacruun laughs in reply, lips curving in a touch of a smile.

"But... I think that will do for now."

"Very well." The corner of Bene's mouth tips upward, indicating at least a slight come-down from his initial guardedness. "Until we meet again."

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[open] Te Vene or Not Te Vene

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