“She gave that to me,” she says, “and they looked around, and they had given so much, you know? My uncle went to the Circles as a boy. Something like forty years were taken from him. My aunt, she was the Chantry. She was the Templar order. She was Riftwatch, sitting in the Forces office, wrestling with all of it. And they're— not every mage gets to be as old as my uncle. And not every Templar gets to be as old as my aunt.”
She'd wanted to tell a story that wouldn't end with and of course, he's dead now, like fucking most of them, but she has the disorienting realisation that she does feel — lighter, for telling it. For telling this story. For deciphering some of it in the process. For allowing herself to think,
to feel that it is good, that they have what they have. For as long as they're able, still.
“Flint became commander when she stepped down. My uncle made sure I would know how to reach them, and where to find them. They write to me.”
Gwenaëlle watches the flames, for a moment.
Finally,
“I took up a sword, and she set hers down, and there's a cottage where the rebellion is over. And it's just one story, and it's just one cottage, and it doesn't fix anything else, and I think it's right. Still. I think it was worth it. I miss them every day, but I can't think they shouldn't have a cottage and a cat and a sunset.”
She has the sword, now. She'll figure it out from here.
no subject
“She gave that to me,” she says, “and they looked around, and they had given so much, you know? My uncle went to the Circles as a boy. Something like forty years were taken from him. My aunt, she was the Chantry. She was the Templar order. She was Riftwatch, sitting in the Forces office, wrestling with all of it. And they're— not every mage gets to be as old as my uncle. And not every Templar gets to be as old as my aunt.”
She'd wanted to tell a story that wouldn't end with and of course, he's dead now, like fucking most of them, but she has the disorienting realisation that she does feel — lighter, for telling it. For telling this story. For deciphering some of it in the process. For allowing herself to think,
to feel that it is good, that they have what they have. For as long as they're able, still.
“Flint became commander when she stepped down. My uncle made sure I would know how to reach them, and where to find them. They write to me.”
Gwenaëlle watches the flames, for a moment.
Finally,
“I took up a sword, and she set hers down, and there's a cottage where the rebellion is over. And it's just one story, and it's just one cottage, and it doesn't fix anything else, and I think it's right. Still. I think it was worth it. I miss them every day, but I can't think they shouldn't have a cottage and a cat and a sunset.”
She has the sword, now. She'll figure it out from here.