"More length of use than how old you are, which is why you see it in the older ones. Don't ask me numbers; I don't know. Like every other damn thing, it's gonna be different factors, and it's also one of those things that tends to be gradual enough that you don't know it's happening until you're ass-deep in it."
And Stephen hasn't agreed to much of anything, here, but if he stops now or pesters until he hears a 'yes I understand' and a 'no I won't talk you out of it' and a 'cross my heart and hope to die I won't tell a single other soul this fact ever', their stubborn natures are going to spin wheels against each other.
Mobius slumps back and spreads his hands. Tries to say it, doesn't, then tries again.
"I said one of the withdrawal symptoms was getting forgetful. And...the funny flip of the coin is, long-term use does the same thing. You start to forget. Everything. A little and a little at a time until you're not a whole lot better than a doorstop. And for some Templars, who don't have anyone to care for them, who want to be on the job until they drop, some just get sent to some chantry Maker knows where and plays guard duty. Guess some things just get so ingrained you couldn't forget even with your brain fried. You get--clumsy, you get agitated, you get disoriented. I've heard it called dementia before. If you don't stop and you don't die, that's how you end up. Losing more and more of yourself."
And it's utterly terrifying, scares him near as much as Red Templars do (for a lot of the same reasons, if he's honest). He's spent his whole life reading and learning and knowing things. All that effort, to eventually be erased. Little by little.
He looks at Stephen, just this side of helpless, and then to the middle distance. "I've been--I try to write things down. So I don't forget. Ever since my hands went, writing's such a pain in the ass, so now it's even harder to keep track. Anytime I forget something, I have to wonder: is that just me being human who can't keep everything in my head all the time? Or is it the lyrium finally starting to eat away at me? If it's started, it's not bad enough yet to notice, and Maker willing, by the time it gets that bad, I'll be a wizened old fool ready to go anyway."
no subject
And Stephen hasn't agreed to much of anything, here, but if he stops now or pesters until he hears a 'yes I understand' and a 'no I won't talk you out of it' and a 'cross my heart and hope to die I won't tell a single other soul this fact ever', their stubborn natures are going to spin wheels against each other.
Mobius slumps back and spreads his hands. Tries to say it, doesn't, then tries again.
"I said one of the withdrawal symptoms was getting forgetful. And...the funny flip of the coin is, long-term use does the same thing. You start to forget. Everything. A little and a little at a time until you're not a whole lot better than a doorstop. And for some Templars, who don't have anyone to care for them, who want to be on the job until they drop, some just get sent to some chantry Maker knows where and plays guard duty. Guess some things just get so ingrained you couldn't forget even with your brain fried. You get--clumsy, you get agitated, you get disoriented. I've heard it called dementia before. If you don't stop and you don't die, that's how you end up. Losing more and more of yourself."
And it's utterly terrifying, scares him near as much as Red Templars do (for a lot of the same reasons, if he's honest). He's spent his whole life reading and learning and knowing things. All that effort, to eventually be erased. Little by little.
He looks at Stephen, just this side of helpless, and then to the middle distance. "I've been--I try to write things down. So I don't forget. Ever since my hands went, writing's such a pain in the ass, so now it's even harder to keep track. Anytime I forget something, I have to wonder: is that just me being human who can't keep everything in my head all the time? Or is it the lyrium finally starting to eat away at me? If it's started, it's not bad enough yet to notice, and Maker willing, by the time it gets that bad, I'll be a wizened old fool ready to go anyway."