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[justice_is_blond]

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apologies for her everything, and for *my* blatant theft of your metaphors from other threads lmao

[limier]

[ Ser. It sets her hackles up here before he’s ever finished; how often has he used that title for invective? To push it towards platitude here must be a fucking strain —

At once it seems foolish to fear he’s seen her true; the man might glimpse pieces, but he’s no interest in finding their shape. Cannot.

There will always be many that suffer, and that’s the world. Those evils: cracks seeping water, eating the foundation. It doesn't make it right, but if you live in a hovel, you don’t take a hammer to the walls, you build.

He’s right in this: This has gone too long. They've all grown too used to ruins, and so few yet remain. An entire generation of mages wiped out, the curated work of Ages alongside, and who will teach the new ones? Who will guide them? The Order is dying by slow rot, each new bloom of corruption excised until nothing's left, no one.

It will take decades to make whole; the public trust may never be. There are those that will see a swift end to this as a solution for all involved: That more blood hasn't already been spilled is a testament to how screwed the South is in every other respect. The countryside, the cities, they're afraid. Some it might bully into compromise (she may dearly pray), others will see their resolve hardened. Thin odds, thin enough to sliver down the end of a blade.

Perhaps he finds hope in that,

She doesn’t. When she thinks of the way this will end, all she finds is flood. It’s never been trust that binds her to the Chantry; it’s grief. To have everything torn from us over and over, as though he didn't rip it from the hands of so many.

The Circles were always going to fall, he claims. They didn't need to fall like that. Not hers. Not her people.

Softly, ]

You have spared us nothing.

[ The creak of wood, she moves to stand. ]

You see it, yes? To act in the name of others, when that is what you rally against?

Heehee

[justice_is_blond]

[She hasn't listened. She'd looked for words to try to use against him, and he feels frustration at himself for trying yet again and seeing it fail yet again. In losing the Circles, the Templars have lost their comforts and their power. Very few will ever see beyond that.

There's an edge of anger in his words now.]

You are no part of us.

[Spared her? What should the Templars be spared?]

I act for choice when we had none. Should some wish to return to being constantly watched because the Chantry has driven into them a fear of themselves, they should be free to. Even now they could ask for it.

The rest of us should not be dragged down with them, dragged to where we are, at best, forgotten to die in dungeons like the very one in White Spire. And at worst, made Tranquil for daring to believe we have the right to say no to sex.

You want to be a part of us, Templar? I've plenty of Resolutionists who would be glad to spend a week roleplaying Templar to your mage, to show you exactly what their days were like. We'd even give you the luxury of setting limits, something we were never given, and you'd have the extra luxury of knowing it would only last a week.

But you won't take that offer. Because you thought you were going to make it, to still hold tight the bars around the mages, to still make mages bend and bow and come at your beck and call.

Good day, Templar.

[He's done wasting his time for the day.]

Do go and enjoy convincing yourself that you've suffered enough to be one of 'us.'

itp: two rational people have a completely unemotional rational conversation

[limier]