WHO: Fitcher + Wysteria + Flint & You WHAT: Catch-all WHEN: Firstfall-ish WHERE: Kirkwall and stuff. NOTES: Will update if necessary. Feel free to grab me if you want a specific starter/wildcard me, baby.
[His hand doesn't resist hers, though as she turns her fingers to do it there is something in his face that moves to shut against it. It's a telling thing, in the way that a door off its track sometimes is—significant for how it is crooked in its hanging, for the gaps which show around it and how the thing doesn't quite close flush. In the intermittent catch of the air up here on the walk, the corner of Flint's mouth folds down in reply to the set of her fingers.
Though it would be easy to escape her, he submits to the wound of this small measure of cutting tenderness.]
She's dead. Murdered by the same people who drove us from Tevinter in the first place because she'd been willing to extend them her forgiveness and they mangled it.
[He has told Rutyer this in different words. It isn't really the point he means.]
I asked because I wanted a better sense of what you might see preserved now that you have the opportunity. She was very like my wife, and everything she kept is gone now.
( and of old, ugly hurts that she knows too well from another angle; mistakes that she might have made herself, and paid dearly for, )
then so shall I. I will not claim to be other than what I am—I cannot pretend that I was not shaped by the world that made me, that I do not carry it in my ways and my habits. But I do not see anything in it worth preserving. I see an opportunity before us to do something better than clutching old mistakes because they are familiar.
Mlle Bonaventura, ( a name she has not had cause to dredge up for some time, but of whom she remains fond, a woman whose lack of understanding showed her youth in a way that petrana might have wished to preserve in a kinder world— ) spoke to me once of preserving my traditions. I regret that I was sharp with her, then, but if Lamorre had remained as it was when I first came to Thedas then the only place for me was on a pyre. That was the tradition that we preserved.
If it remains as my husband has made it, after that, that is all Lamorre is good for, too.
( when petrana speaks of burning everything to the ground, it is not idle talk, and it is not without the awareness that something must be rebuilt in its place. it is with the sense that she feels, keenly, the responsibility to do both things. )
Edited (anyway im good at writing) 2021-01-03 06:00 (UTC)
[There is a metronome click to this—a rhythm which feels by some measure inevitable. That it is easy to mistake the tak of flint and steel sparking a fire in the dark for a similar sound as one which might accompany the practice of music in finely appointed drawing rooms seems
relevant.]
And here, [he presses] as you are in Thedas? What do you imagine this place is fit for?
Change. It is on the cusp of it; it teeters between it and between a comforting return to status quo, a well-intentioned path paved with the bones of who would have resisted.
( a good deal franker than most of what she might say on the subject, elsewhere, and she shrugs, elegantly— )
An answer I think not greatly changed from the last time I gave it to you. I do not presume to know, solely, precisely what Thedas should look like when the dust settles. But I think it is apparent that those who have decided its fate previously have done a terrible job and ought not have it handed back to them easily.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
Though it would be easy to escape her, he submits to the wound of this small measure of cutting tenderness.]
She's dead. Murdered by the same people who drove us from Tevinter in the first place because she'd been willing to extend them her forgiveness and they mangled it.
[He has told Rutyer this in different words. It isn't really the point he means.]
I asked because I wanted a better sense of what you might see preserved now that you have the opportunity. She was very like my wife, and everything she kept is gone now.
no subject
( and of old, ugly hurts that she knows too well from another angle; mistakes that she might have made herself, and paid dearly for, )
then so shall I. I will not claim to be other than what I am—I cannot pretend that I was not shaped by the world that made me, that I do not carry it in my ways and my habits. But I do not see anything in it worth preserving. I see an opportunity before us to do something better than clutching old mistakes because they are familiar.
Mlle Bonaventura, ( a name she has not had cause to dredge up for some time, but of whom she remains fond, a woman whose lack of understanding showed her youth in a way that petrana might have wished to preserve in a kinder world— ) spoke to me once of preserving my traditions. I regret that I was sharp with her, then, but if Lamorre had remained as it was when I first came to Thedas then the only place for me was on a pyre. That was the tradition that we preserved.
If it remains as my husband has made it, after that, that is all Lamorre is good for, too.
( when petrana speaks of burning everything to the ground, it is not idle talk, and it is not without the awareness that something must be rebuilt in its place. it is with the sense that she feels, keenly, the responsibility to do both things. )
no subject
relevant.]
And here, [he presses] as you are in Thedas? What do you imagine this place is fit for?
no subject
( a good deal franker than most of what she might say on the subject, elsewhere, and she shrugs, elegantly— )
An answer I think not greatly changed from the last time I gave it to you. I do not presume to know, solely, precisely what Thedas should look like when the dust settles. But I think it is apparent that those who have decided its fate previously have done a terrible job and ought not have it handed back to them easily.