WHO: Holden, Mhavos, Sawbones + Vance WHAT: Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass. WHEN: Vague timing. WHERE:Orzammar. NOTES: HMU in Discord with any questions.
He had expected this. Wordless, he immediately begins to strip both the beds of their blankets, arranging them carefully on the floor.
"This will be better for you," he says, the bedding arranged into a shape roughly Holden's height on the floor, using the both of their allotted blankets. "It will be hard, but you won't be hanging off, at least."
He's honestly just thinking about other ways to pass the night — checking in with Amos through the crystals and then reading, maybe, or something — when Mhavos starts in on his solution.
Which is a kind offer, but he moves to pick some of that bedding back up.
"Keep your blankets. It wouldn't be the first time I've ever slept on the ground."
"Relatively briefly," Mhavos sits back on his bed, motions precise. "I found him to be patient and forgiving. I admit, perhaps because I am an elf, I assumed..."
He motions to the splendor around them.
"Well, every nonhuman on the surface is surely from humble beginnings. I did not know the extent to which this was untrue for Vance, nor the extent to which it was an understatement for the Sister."
There are moments, sometimes, when Mhavos speaks, that he sounds very much like people Holden's known on Tycho station, on Ceres.
"I never would've guessed," he admits. Not that all dwarves know each other, and not all dwarves are going to get along — obviously — but the gulf between those two is staggering. "I'm glad to have her perspective, but I'm not so sure he's going to see it that way."
If he bristles, it's not because of the scrutiny, or for his own sake.
"There are ways she understands the situation better than any of us, and that makes her insight invaluable," is where he starts. "We need more intel about the circumstances, but this soldier doesn't deserve to be executed based on the fact that the person he killed was born to some high Caste, and he isn't. None of that should matter. What he does deserve is a fair trial and sentencing, based on what actually happened: what he did, why he did it, why his CO.
"We know he didn't enlist because he had so many other options in life, and that's because the Sister was here to tell us. Why jeopardize it? Something must've changed. We owe it to him to find out what."
Edited (less of a textwall) 2020-11-10 18:44 (UTC)
"I'm aware that he had more to lose than most if he got caught. So why do it?"
Would the question be this contentious if the killer weren't Casteless?
"I'm not saying he shouldn't face consequences for what he's done. But from the sound of it, if their positions were reversed? No one would give a damn."
"Of course not," Mhavos says. "In truth, I largely agree. I apologize for stringing answers out of you, but..." He frowns, unsure how to say this- "you are the greatest unknown factor at presence. At least with dwarven culture, I know what I don't know."
A neat way of putting it. Mhavos considers his words carefully before going on.
"The way I see it, injustice is inevitable, so an outcome should be focused on. This... is very political."
He wouldn't normally appreciate being drawn out like that — doesn't, really, but —
"I guess I can't blame you." Not as if they know each other well enough for Mhavos to know what he'd think, and he is a Rifter, operates on a different system of values and experiences than the natives. "We'll just have to do the best we can." Then, "Not that we got much of a warm welcome down here."
All those nasty stares from earlier. The more they poke around, the more that's likely to escalate.
Mhavos waves it off. "If I received a warm welcome anywhere, I'd likely die of shock on the spot."
So positive, Mhavos! He begins to speak again, before stopping, holding a finger up. It's said that elves have better hearing than humans, and that may be true-- their eyesight is generally better-- but in his experience it's about equal.
The finger goes to Mhavos' lips, and he makes a beckoning gesture as he goes to the door. Quick as a flash, he has a wax tablet from some obscure pocket on his person, and is scribbling notes.
The sounds of Vance and his brother are just loud enough to be heard through a small crack in the stone door.
He's been here long enough now that the answer mostly merits an exhale, a quiet acknowledgement. But he stills when Mhavos holds up his finger, follows, carefully, to the door.
Eavesdropping is a poor way to repay Vance's — and his family's — hospitality. But Holden had only just now been expressing doubts about where they stood.
Talk of Darkspawn and Wardens go, to some extent, over his head. But he raises his eyebrows at the talk of an Assembly, divesting power from the king.
Mhavos writes as much as he can in quick shorthand, scraping shapes into a his tablet. He bites his lip, listens, waits.
And then the voices ebb, and Mhavos very quietly moves as far as possible from the door to begin looking over the notes. He looks to Holden, and whispers a hushed, "did you-?" before pointing to his ear. Did you hear that?
He nods, moving quietly to retake that place at the spare bed. No footsteps were coming the direction of this room, but also no point hovering near the door to be caught red-handed.
"Well," whispered in turn, "that was informative."
Mhavos inclines his head, spreads his hands. What do you think, or what questions do you have?
It occurs to him that he's holding his cards rather close to the chest with this one, but he is human, regardless of whatever genocidal world he's from.
Mhavos blinks, genuinely surprised, and it shows. After a moment to reorient himself, he shakes his head. "Chaos. Civil war. Unless it's a coup, and even then... I don't know the political history of your world, but unseating monarchs generally brings upheaval. Five years ago, Orlais was in the midst of a civil war... Ferelden barely survived its monarch being deposed."
He frowns, unsurprised. That's about what he expected to hear.
"And we can say goodbye to his reforms."
It's almost funny that Mhavos had called the situation political not even an hour ago; they hadn't even realized. If their task here had seemed complicated before...
"I'm not sure how much this changes for us," he says, slow. "We didn't come here to interfere in their government. Whatever anyone else may think."
Given the confirmed unwelcomeness of their presence.
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PRE-GOSSIP.
"This will be better for you," he says, the bedding arranged into a shape roughly Holden's height on the floor, using the both of their allotted blankets. "It will be hard, but you won't be hanging off, at least."
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Which is a kind offer, but he moves to pick some of that bedding back up.
"Keep your blankets. It wouldn't be the first time I've ever slept on the ground."
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"Alright, fair enough." With some humor, as he puts the blankets back, "Just try not to step on me if you get up in the middle of the night."
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The question of blankets settled, he moves to sit on the unoccupied bed for now.
"How long have you known — ?" A tilt of his head towards the door.
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1/2
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How long, but really, how well. He's about as much an unknown to Holden as the rest of Orzammar.
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He motions to the splendor around them.
"Well, every nonhuman on the surface is surely from humble beginnings. I did not know the extent to which this was untrue for Vance, nor the extent to which it was an understatement for the Sister."
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"I never would've guessed," he admits. Not that all dwarves know each other, and not all dwarves are going to get along — obviously — but the gulf between those two is staggering. "I'm glad to have her perspective, but I'm not so sure he's going to see it that way."
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"There are ways she understands the situation better than any of us, and that makes her insight invaluable," is where he starts. "We need more intel about the circumstances, but this soldier doesn't deserve to be executed based on the fact that the person he killed was born to some high Caste, and he isn't. None of that should matter. What he does deserve is a fair trial and sentencing, based on what actually happened: what he did, why he did it, why his CO.
"We know he didn't enlist because he had so many other options in life, and that's because the Sister was here to tell us. Why jeopardize it? Something must've changed. We owe it to him to find out what."
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"You are aware that murder is a crime?"
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Would the question be this contentious if the killer weren't Casteless?
"I'm not saying he shouldn't face consequences for what he's done. But from the sound of it, if their positions were reversed? No one would give a damn."
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A neat way of putting it. Mhavos considers his words carefully before going on.
"The way I see it, injustice is inevitable, so an outcome should be focused on. This... is very political."
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"I guess I can't blame you." Not as if they know each other well enough for Mhavos to know what he'd think, and he is a Rifter, operates on a different system of values and experiences than the natives. "We'll just have to do the best we can." Then, "Not that we got much of a warm welcome down here."
All those nasty stares from earlier. The more they poke around, the more that's likely to escalate.
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So positive, Mhavos! He begins to speak again, before stopping, holding a finger up. It's said that elves have better hearing than humans, and that may be true-- their eyesight is generally better-- but in his experience it's about equal.
The finger goes to Mhavos' lips, and he makes a beckoning gesture as he goes to the door. Quick as a flash, he has a wax tablet from some obscure pocket on his person, and is scribbling notes.
The sounds of Vance and his brother are just loud enough to be heard through a small crack in the stone door.
no subject
Eavesdropping is a poor way to repay Vance's — and his family's — hospitality. But Holden had only just now been expressing doubts about where they stood.
Talk of Darkspawn and Wardens go, to some extent, over his head. But he raises his eyebrows at the talk of an Assembly, divesting power from the king.
no subject
And then the voices ebb, and Mhavos very quietly moves as far as possible from the door to begin looking over the notes. He looks to Holden, and whispers a hushed, "did you-?" before pointing to his ear. Did you hear that?
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"Well," whispered in turn, "that was informative."
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It occurs to him that he's holding his cards rather close to the chest with this one, but he is human, regardless of whatever genocidal world he's from.
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"And we can say goodbye to his reforms."
It's almost funny that Mhavos had called the situation political not even an hour ago; they hadn't even realized. If their task here had seemed complicated before...
"I'm not sure how much this changes for us," he says, slow. "We didn't come here to interfere in their government. Whatever anyone else may think."
Given the confirmed unwelcomeness of their presence.
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