WHO: Athessa, Madi, and YOU WHAT: post-Dream catch-all WHEN: after part 2 of dream time WHERE: The Gallows/Kirkwall NOTES: tags will be slow, brain still bad
There's a moment of stillness in response to that answer. Just complete stillness as he controls his reaction to what she just said. And then he takes in a breath, and then lets it out, and he nods.
"Very well, then. If that is the level of care that you have for the question, then I suppose this is how things will be."
What starts as an exasperated sigh turns into a frustrated groan and she scrubs over her face with her hands. Why is this so fucking difficult?!
"If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here trying to reassure you of anything. How about, maybe, you just tell me what you want me to know? I've said, haven't I, that I'm not good at this. Im not a mind reader, and I'm not Baz, I don't know what questions you want me to ask!"
She sits heavily back in the chair she vacated only moments ago, gesturing for him to explain himself.
"So go on, then. Tell me what you care about. Help me understand how I managed to fuck up and hurt you again."
He still doesn't move for a moment. He still remains still. Because, Maker, the way she's acting, like this is the heaviest of burdens, like the only purpose of asking is to indulge a child demanding to know why he's not getting a sweet...
But. "You don't have to be good at it," he says, his voice stiff. "You merely have to - " But no. There's no point in arguing. Instead, he says, his voice rough, "You forced me to hold a knife to your throat. In that dream. And you may say it meant nothing, that that wasn't you, but I still remember the feel of it. And I was drunk, and my hand could have slipped, and then I'd remember the feel of you dying. By my hand." Rougher still, "There was some part of your mind that wanted me to feel that."
A swallow. His hand grips his pen tightly. He doesn't look at her.
"I don't...I want to win this war. I want to keep Corypheus from enslaving people like you, from sacrificing them. From bleeding out my people in his rituals. From seeding them with lyrium. I want to help. I'm not some sadist. I don't do this because I like the power." And then, rougher still, "And if someone like you doesn't understand that, then I might as well throw myself out the fucking window right now."
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"Very well, then. If that is the level of care that you have for the question, then I suppose this is how things will be."
no subject
"If I didn't care, I wouldn't be here trying to reassure you of anything. How about, maybe, you just tell me what you want me to know? I've said, haven't I, that I'm not good at this. Im not a mind reader, and I'm not Baz, I don't know what questions you want me to ask!"
She sits heavily back in the chair she vacated only moments ago, gesturing for him to explain himself.
"So go on, then. Tell me what you care about. Help me understand how I managed to fuck up and hurt you again."
cw suicide
But. "You don't have to be good at it," he says, his voice stiff. "You merely have to - " But no. There's no point in arguing. Instead, he says, his voice rough, "You forced me to hold a knife to your throat. In that dream. And you may say it meant nothing, that that wasn't you, but I still remember the feel of it. And I was drunk, and my hand could have slipped, and then I'd remember the feel of you dying. By my hand." Rougher still, "There was some part of your mind that wanted me to feel that."
A swallow. His hand grips his pen tightly. He doesn't look at her.
"I don't...I want to win this war. I want to keep Corypheus from enslaving people like you, from sacrificing them. From bleeding out my people in his rituals. From seeding them with lyrium. I want to help. I'm not some sadist. I don't do this because I like the power." And then, rougher still, "And if someone like you doesn't understand that, then I might as well throw myself out the fucking window right now."