It doesn't occur to him that someone might take issue with that until she doesn't, a here-and-gone flicker of defensiveness that doesn't have opportunity to materialize. Instead, he shrugs.
"Venatori isn't the same thing as Tevinter. We've got plenty of people at our doorstep right now for that reason. But I haven't always been good at remembering that."
"That speaks well of you," she says first, curling an arm around raised knee. Many people are content to see Tevinter as an extension of the Venatori, and dismiss it all.
The memory of Dairsmuid is always so close at hand when the Chantry rails against Tevinter. The venom almost always extends past the evils of the Venatori and the injustice of the structure of Tevene society to alight on magic as the cause of it all.
"Has it changed your impression of what we're doing here?"
Here in Riftwatch and here meaning the war, what's being attempted and what will come after Corypheus has been dragged down from his seat of power.
Should do, maybe, but he's out grown those kinds of easy moral proclamations. Doubly so in an unfamiliar world, one he's still learning. But there's nothing exceptional to picking up a few suggested books after finding a fault in his thinking — one that could really hurt people if left unexamined.
"Not exactly," to the question of change. "It's more that I'm getting a better idea of just how complex the situation really is." Which isn't, inherently, a surprise. No such thing as a simple war, as straightforward politics. "How many factors there really are, and what people stand to gain or lose. Stopping Corypheus is only part of it."
And maybe one of the easiest, ironically. She knows, of course. And he knows too, even from some time ago; holding her phylactery in his hands as she explained to him the power it gave the Chantry over her, over any mage.
The look she gives him carries a particular weight. It's what anyone could do, but few will. Holden knows that.
But she lets it pass, unremarked upon. There's no reason to remind Holden of all the ways people tend to fall short. Instead, she loops her arms around her bent leg, rests her chin on her knee.
"Some of us," she begins, in which us stands in for mages; she doesn't mind raising this subject with him. "Think if we do stop Corypheus, the war with the templars will start again. That we should prepare ourselves for it."
Rather than assume the Chantry will have a change of heart. Nothing indicates to Derrica that such a thing will come to pass unless they fight their way to it.
He nods as he listens, considers that. It doesn't come as a surprise. Mages aren't going to want to return to Circles, and with good reason, but he doubts that'd stop the Chantry from trying. He's heard the talk of sending rifters there too, which probably seems like a neat solution to someone like the Divine.
The answer is simple, really. Derrica feels it as a certainty, just as she had when Kostos had said it that first time.
"I hope we don't have to fight," she says. At least now she knows that's not cowardice, to want to avoid bloodshed. But regardless of what she might want or hope for—
"But I think we'll have to."
And this time, Derrica wouldn't hide away in the midst of pirate crews for the entirety of it.
Then, as a reassurance, "And we'll fight for you too. The Chantry has a less favorable view of Rifters than it does of mages, I think."
There was a time when James Holden would've taken issue with this answer. The man that Derrica knows today, though, accepts this without question. It'd be so nice to not have the conclusion of one war mean the continuation of another, but unless the templars and the Chantry are willing to budge, there isn't a better choice.
A flicker of warmth plays across his face at the kindness of her reassurance. He agrees, "It'll be our fight too, whatever happens."
It's a funny space in his mind, after the war. He doesn't have plans for it. He doesn't have daydreams of what he'd like to do with his life after Corypheus is stopped. What normal life in Thedas might look like, without ancient demons and Chantry interference. The truth that he recognizes on some level, that he'll never admit to her, is that he doesn't expect to live to see it.
Is it a good thing, to share smiles over this? Derrica isn't so certain, but she knows that it's reassuring to hear him say such a thing.
She doesn't want to fight. But if she does, it helps knowing the people who will fight beside her. And more importantly, it reminds her that she would do well to learn all she can before the time comes, so she can keep them all safe and healthy.
"Will you tell me about space?" is a deliberate subject change, pulling them both away from contemplation of an uncertain future. They've discussed enough weighty things tonight.
"That's a big topic," he says with humor, leaning back in his chair. Not that he minds the shift; she's right that there's no need to linger on darker topics. "What do you want to know?"
Space puts her in mind of the ocean, in some ways. Vast and awe-inspiring, except that she knows nothing at all of space. Not what lives there, nothing of how it's traveled. It's like trying to grasp at smoke.
But she knows Holden loves it, and so—
"The part you like best," Derrica prompts. "What came to mind first when I asked you."
"That'd be the ship," he says, breathing out a laugh. Of course it was; the Rocinante, the best home he's ever known. Space, only incidental to the ship and the crew in it.
But maybe that's always the way. He's sure there are people who love the sea, but it has to go hand in hand with the vessel, the people, you're there with. As for the second thing to come to mind, though,
"It's beautiful," is what he says, "in a way that's overwhelming. If you can picture the night sky, but everywhere around you, you'll start to get an idea of what it's like. And huge; you can travel through the big empty for months before getting anywhere. You have to get along with your crew, because they're the only people you'll see until you get to harbor."
Every aspect of what he's describing is well-understood. If they were not speaking of space, he would sound like any sailor Derrica has ever met. He would sound like her. Had she not said something nearly identical to Matthias, once?
"What is your ship like?"
A question asked while she considers Naomi and Amos again, wonders who else might be traveling with them. How big is his crew? But Derrica doesn't want to invoke Naomi, so leaves the question aside.
And it's not exactly a hardship, drawing a description out of him. She doubts the kind of ship he's talking about looks anything like hers. Something built for the air instead of the sea would have an entirely different look, perhaps entirely beyond her comprehension, but she'd still like to hear Holden speak of it.
He lets himself take his time, describing the Rocinante.
Derrica makes for a good audience; and as long as she still seems interested, he walks her though the basics of a ship designed for traveling in the void, as best he can in lay terms. He describes her ops deck, the weapons systems, the med bay, the galley and its coffeemaker, the cabins optimized for safety in high-g maneuvers, the need for mag boots to keep them from just floating away in microgravity. It's hard to say how good a job he really does of making the description comprehensible — and overlap of naval terms works in his favor — but he tries; and there's no question of how much he loves it, even nearly a year removed from having set foot aboard the vessel.
Some of it is simply difficult to envision, though Holden is very thorough in his description. And it's kind of him, to take such care with how he relays the information, careful about inherently fantastic concepts.
She listens until he winds into silence, happy to listen apart from a question or two.
"It's not the same, is it? With the ships here?"
A little rueful. Derrica knows it could never be. Maybe not even necessarily because of the mode of travel so much as they aren't his own. Could any of them rival the Rocinante? Holden described that ship so lovingly, it's hard to believe there was a possibility of some other vessel measuring up.
Of course nothing could ever be the Roci — even back home, he never had an exit strategy, never had a plan for another job or another ship in case any of their myriad of problems caught up with them. The Roci was it for him, was home. Though he adds, with a glance to Derrica,
"I've started thinking I should spend some time learning more about the ships here too. It's good information to have."
A good skillset too, truthfully. Flint had a point that the war wouldn't always be overland.
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no subject
"Venatori isn't the same thing as Tevinter. We've got plenty of people at our doorstep right now for that reason. But I haven't always been good at remembering that."
Thanks, Herald.
"It's something I've been trying to work on."
no subject
The memory of Dairsmuid is always so close at hand when the Chantry rails against Tevinter. The venom almost always extends past the evils of the Venatori and the injustice of the structure of Tevene society to alight on magic as the cause of it all.
"Has it changed your impression of what we're doing here?"
Here in Riftwatch and here meaning the war, what's being attempted and what will come after Corypheus has been dragged down from his seat of power.
no subject
"It's what anyone could do."
Should do, maybe, but he's out grown those kinds of easy moral proclamations. Doubly so in an unfamiliar world, one he's still learning. But there's nothing exceptional to picking up a few suggested books after finding a fault in his thinking — one that could really hurt people if left unexamined.
"Not exactly," to the question of change. "It's more that I'm getting a better idea of just how complex the situation really is." Which isn't, inherently, a surprise. No such thing as a simple war, as straightforward politics. "How many factors there really are, and what people stand to gain or lose. Stopping Corypheus is only part of it."
And maybe one of the easiest, ironically. She knows, of course. And he knows too, even from some time ago; holding her phylactery in his hands as she explained to him the power it gave the Chantry over her, over any mage.
no subject
But she lets it pass, unremarked upon. There's no reason to remind Holden of all the ways people tend to fall short. Instead, she loops her arms around her bent leg, rests her chin on her knee.
"Some of us," she begins, in which us stands in for mages; she doesn't mind raising this subject with him. "Think if we do stop Corypheus, the war with the templars will start again. That we should prepare ourselves for it."
Rather than assume the Chantry will have a change of heart. Nothing indicates to Derrica that such a thing will come to pass unless they fight their way to it.
no subject
"What do you think?"
no subject
"I hope we don't have to fight," she says. At least now she knows that's not cowardice, to want to avoid bloodshed. But regardless of what she might want or hope for—
"But I think we'll have to."
And this time, Derrica wouldn't hide away in the midst of pirate crews for the entirety of it.
Then, as a reassurance, "And we'll fight for you too. The Chantry has a less favorable view of Rifters than it does of mages, I think."
no subject
A flicker of warmth plays across his face at the kindness of her reassurance. He agrees, "It'll be our fight too, whatever happens."
It's a funny space in his mind, after the war. He doesn't have plans for it. He doesn't have daydreams of what he'd like to do with his life after Corypheus is stopped. What normal life in Thedas might look like, without ancient demons and Chantry interference. The truth that he recognizes on some level, that he'll never admit to her, is that he doesn't expect to live to see it.
no subject
She doesn't want to fight. But if she does, it helps knowing the people who will fight beside her. And more importantly, it reminds her that she would do well to learn all she can before the time comes, so she can keep them all safe and healthy.
"Will you tell me about space?" is a deliberate subject change, pulling them both away from contemplation of an uncertain future. They've discussed enough weighty things tonight.
no subject
no subject
But she knows Holden loves it, and so—
"The part you like best," Derrica prompts. "What came to mind first when I asked you."
no subject
But maybe that's always the way. He's sure there are people who love the sea, but it has to go hand in hand with the vessel, the people, you're there with. As for the second thing to come to mind, though,
"It's beautiful," is what he says, "in a way that's overwhelming. If you can picture the night sky, but everywhere around you, you'll start to get an idea of what it's like. And huge; you can travel through the big empty for months before getting anywhere. You have to get along with your crew, because they're the only people you'll see until you get to harbor."
no subject
"What is your ship like?"
A question asked while she considers Naomi and Amos again, wonders who else might be traveling with them. How big is his crew? But Derrica doesn't want to invoke Naomi, so leaves the question aside.
And it's not exactly a hardship, drawing a description out of him. She doubts the kind of ship he's talking about looks anything like hers. Something built for the air instead of the sea would have an entirely different look, perhaps entirely beyond her comprehension, but she'd still like to hear Holden speak of it.
no subject
Derrica makes for a good audience; and as long as she still seems interested, he walks her though the basics of a ship designed for traveling in the void, as best he can in lay terms. He describes her ops deck, the weapons systems, the med bay, the galley and its coffeemaker, the cabins optimized for safety in high-g maneuvers, the need for mag boots to keep them from just floating away in microgravity. It's hard to say how good a job he really does of making the description comprehensible — and overlap of naval terms works in his favor — but he tries; and there's no question of how much he loves it, even nearly a year removed from having set foot aboard the vessel.
no subject
She listens until he winds into silence, happy to listen apart from a question or two.
"It's not the same, is it? With the ships here?"
A little rueful. Derrica knows it could never be. Maybe not even necessarily because of the mode of travel so much as they aren't his own. Could any of them rival the Rocinante? Holden described that ship so lovingly, it's hard to believe there was a possibility of some other vessel measuring up.
no subject
Of course nothing could ever be the Roci — even back home, he never had an exit strategy, never had a plan for another job or another ship in case any of their myriad of problems caught up with them. The Roci was it for him, was home. Though he adds, with a glance to Derrica,
"I've started thinking I should spend some time learning more about the ships here too. It's good information to have."
A good skillset too, truthfully. Flint had a point that the war wouldn't always be overland.