justice_is_blond | Inbox for Fade Rift

It had been unfortunate. It really, really had been. This one is nice though, if one likes a bit of zing. Amazing the things you can accomplish when you actually stick to complimentary flavor profiles.

Nari nods along with his thoughts. "I s'pose most of the common folk get a little happiness from 'at least I'm not an elf', or 'at least I'm not a mage'. It's fighting over scraps of dignity because that's all that're offered." She makes a face. "To their advantage to keep us sniping amongst ourselves." That was all old and chewed over, though, as much as it was cathartic to rehash just how infuriating shem'len society was. She slides her mug back and forth between her hands.

"As far as the thought? It's actually... my People don't do war." She huffs a wry laugh through her nose, "Well, not like this, at least. In lines, pressed up against each other. All the fighting I've done has always been using the land, making the most of small numbers by trying our best to never be seen, never be caught. This is all... it's so open. It's... the losses must be..."

He'd know. It was brutal. Lines and lines of men and women crashing into each other like waves, so many of them immediate casualties, so many downed to be trampled into the mud by ally and enemy alike. She'd not been to the front lines, of course, but she'd seen the maps. She'd read the books. She'd imagined.

"Is this... how it always is?"

He listens, finally taking a tentative sip as she gets near the end and nodding his approval for the flavor.

"I haven't seen a lot of war before this. When I was with the Grey Wardens during the... the attack on Amaranthine, it was like this, yes. Lines of all that could be mustered marching forth, while a few of us held the Keep. The mage fighting against Templars, what I saw of it, was more like you describe. They formed lines, they had the numbers, and we had to make smaller strikes. Armies..."

He shakes his head. "With lords, they've numbers and a distance from the field. If they lose a lot of lives, they can hire men to replace them. Corypheus is much the same. They're not worried about lives, they're worried about coming out on top. It's ghastly."

Anders leans back in his chair, frowning. "It's all about the numbers. The more people someone can field, the more impartial it becomes. Or that's my opinion. I'm not exactly a scholar of war." Healing is what he studies. But as this war gets closer to a head, the chances of them being fielded go higher.

"I'm not looking forward to when we take on Corypheus, though sometimes I think it would be nice to simply deal with him rather than continuing to take losses."

"You don't have to be a scholar, you're a healer. You've seen what comes after it," Nari says, her lips thinning at the idea. The sheer loss of life is awful, but it's the way human warfare happens that makes her really upset.

"It's mostly that the idea of making stationary siege engines makes my skin crawl sometimes." True enough, but not all of it. Really it's mostly knowing that even though Cade's a better archer than foot soldier, he's trained to be a front line combatant, and if the need gets dire—when it gets dire... but Cade isn't really a good Anders subject, so she tries to distract from the nervous tapping of her fingers on the mug by continuing on with the first idea.

"The fact that your cities can't move makes my skin crawl. How is everyone so fine with knowing that your enemies know where you are all the time? With being so concentrated in places?" Kirkwall can't scatter to avoid a blow any more than Minrathous could.

She imagines Anders won't know these things any more than she knows why everything ended up so wrong.

"Catapults are..." he trails off, shaking his head. The thought of giant rocks raining down that you can't avoid is terrifying, but he's also caused it on a smaller scale. He really has no right to voice that fear, and turns instead to the other.

"Maybe cities form from people being weary of always being on the move. I've run for so much of my life. I'd love to have a place where I can stop. Where I can stay. Where I can breathe." He shrugs. "I don't mind the road, but I've had no stability from when I came into my magic until just recently, when I married my husband. He's an, an anchor for me, but I still won't deny that I'm tired of running and moving around. But I also appreciate the risk that would come from people knowing where I am, once the war with Corypheus is over."

Priorities will shift, and he'll be a very appealing target for anyone wanting religious power. There may never be rest for him.

Weary of being always on the move. Running for so much of your life. Risk in people knowing where you are.

Hearing that complaint--valid as it is--from a human, even a mage, even a fugitive mage, makes Nari thin her lips and look down into her tea, the lines of her vallaslin wrinkling as her brow pinches. But Anders is a friend, a good one, and she's sure it was simple carelessness. It's not as if they'd talked about it before, not really. So instead of being sharp, she just looks up with a wry half-smile to tap the tip of her ear, the darker line of her tattoo where it curves across her cheek.

"Fully sympathized with."

For generations.

"The hunting is always better in the next glen over, I suppose. I imagine the mages cooped up in towers would love to sail the grass seas," she says, pulling a knee up to set on one of the rungs of her chair and resting an arm on top of it, reaching for her mug with the other. "I reckon it's all about whether or not it's a choice you've made, or one that's been made for you."

Anders colors slightly before ducking his head in quiet apology. He's had to run from abuse since he was around fourteen. She's had to do it all of her life.

"And about what you like. There was one mage in Kinloch Hold, Finn, who absolutely hated the outdoors. He was the only one who was pleased when they cancelled our outside time."

There's a short beat as he takes a sip, before he realizes he should probably explain that.

"We used to have an hour a day in the sun outside. But Kinloch Hold was on an island. And we were guarded by men in heavy armor. So one day a young mage decided that men in heavy armor couldn't possibly keep up with him and jumped into the lake." The pride in his voice and smile no doubt gives away who that young mage was. "Four miles he swam, the whole way across, and he was free for five days, which is quite the accomplishment when they've got your phylactery and they're pissed because one of their brothers jumped in after you and they had to then spend time saving him instead of chasing you."

A shrug. "Unfortunately, Finn was the only one who was all right with the punishment so that mage was not very popular for some time. Basically... yes. A majority of the people would prefer a life of their choosing. But there are always a few who want the cage, which makes things difficult for the rest."

"Not a cage to those who want it, I guess. I don't begrudge it so much as wish it didn't make it so easy to point at them and say 'see, they're fine with it, what's wrong with the rest of you'."

None of the Dalish are fine with it. Nari imagines that's why they're painted as a cautionary tale about savage isolationism instead. Can't cherry-pick them for examples, better just throw away the whole lot. She rests her chin on her hand and grins.

"Young mage seems like a troublemaker. He get up to anything else?"

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