[ Nell's room is meant for at least two, so if she sits on the windowsill and he stays on the bed or at the desk, they won't be constantly echoing in the background of each other's messages. But she turns to look at him now, distinctly unimpressed. ]
A partial strike only of combat mages? That's a terrible idea. Do they have your balls in that vault with my phylactery?
Come find out, [ Kostos shoots tonelessly back—presently listening to a couple of children worry about everything he used to worry about, or still worries about—but after a pause he looks back at her and answers for real. ] We can't let people die.
Yes we can. [ A kneejerk bit of contrariness, but Nell turns where she sits, closing her hand around her crystal, and doubles down on it. ] They would let us die. If they refuse, that's basically what they'll be saying.
[ Kostos silences his entirely. The fretting children can wait. Possibly forever. ]
They will not be refusing anything. The choice is with four people in a high fortified tower. None of them will be begging for their lives from healers anytime soon.
You know that's not how this works. We don't have any leverage against the four individual people in a high tower except the organization they control and presumably care about. And if we don't do this all at once, as near to all of us as possible, it won't make the kind of statement we need.
[ He has to stop and actually do that, the thinking, to be able to get words in order. ]
Being reasonable is a statement. I think telling them that they can't direct us to be dangerous with one hand and punish us for being dangerous with the other—as a first step, of course if they refuse and we leave altogether they would lose everything—
If they do agree, then we have to live with these people, still, when it's done.
We've been reasonable for years. [ Well. ] Mages with the Inquisition have been reasonable for years. They've worked for the Inquisition all this time without asking for anything, that has to be counted.
And no, it doesn't work. What are you actually suggesting, that only the mages who are primarily here to fight stop engaging in combat and everyone else keeps working? We're not all fighting every day, or even every week. No one will notice, and if they do it will be because some mage out on a mission refuses to support his team and then people will die, and your line-drawing to try to avoid harm will be all the more pointless.
[ He sets his jaw for moment—long enough for it to be obvious he's working through something, not long enough for it to turn into sulky silence. What he's working through is setting aside his pettier disagreements with various details. It's hard. Five years ago he'd have dug in on every word. With anyone else he probably would.
He is still not going to say out loud that he's wrong about anything. ]
The healers, [ he finally says, gesturing with his quiet crystal. ] If we stop everything else, if they agree to that much, they will not turn away from people dying in front of them. Their friends. Just because we don't have any— [ Other than mages. ] Life or death, maybe. No help for their aches and scars. Whatever the healers would agree to. A deliberate exception would look better than broken ranks.
[ He gets her with that last sentence. Til then, Nell is just about chomping at the bit to keep arguing, not even just with what he's saying but with a hundred more points she's come up with in the minute since she last spoke. There's some disappointment at having that chance taken away, but some weird pride, too. (She likes to think it's her influence that brings him round to that strategic finish, that her pragmatism has tempered and honed him. More like they've fumbled their way through all of this together and by now he knows what's most likely to move her, but whatever.) ]
A deliberate exception would look better than broken ranks, and there are too many with scruples. [ scruples, like it's a disease ] But it should be just that, an exception, for specific, narrow cases where lives are actually in danger and non-mages can't help. None of this stopping in stages crap, all that does is draw the whole thing out longer and make it easier to tell which of us is most replaceable.
[ He looks briefly surprised at the agreement (because even if it was meant to appeal to her, he hadn't thought it would work) before returning to a sort of subdued rebelliousness (because crap, because it's the smallest exception he would like carved out rather than the largest, because of the way she says scruples). ]
We will all be replaceable if enough mages are concerned about jeopardizing the fate of the entire world, [ he says, for lack of anything else to be contrary about now without going back and raising his own bar. ] And there are Loyalists at Skyhold—grown ones—who will not go along with destruction, whatever you tell them. If I had any sense left I would be say they should be secured in Val Royeaux until the new Divine can decide.
[ If he wanted to argue more that was perfectly executed, practically knocking Nell back as she rolls her entire head, eyes alone not being nearly enough. ]
Maker, save me from your self-loathing Loyalist bullshit. "Secured in Val Royeaux." I hardly know where to begin with that notion. Your balls really are in that vault and someone misled you about what the Hands of the Divine are for! [ Harder, not joking at all: ] There is no point in helping to save the world if they're just going to deny us a place in it again.
And there is no point to this. He might be able to say there was one later, that arguing against him is good practice for arguing against Loyalists who haven't given up later, but really it's just that he's always somewhat spoiling for a fight. ]
[ well he's COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE and the fact that the buttons he's pushing are incredibly obvious doesn't make them less effective, not when Nell's already riled up and having to rein it in to try to be diplomatic and not send everyone on the crystals running for the hills ]
So are the Abyssal Wastes [ she snaps ] so is a Tevinter slave pen. We would be better off letting Corypheus conquer this entire fucking world than going back to the way things were.
Edited (not nagging, just rethinking) 2018-03-31 22:54 (UTC)
First of all, plenty of Tevinter slaves are kept in conditions at least as nice as a Circle, are you going to tell me that doesn't really count as slavery now? And more importantly, at least they're honest! They admit that they own people and use them, while the Chantry insists they're out to protect us all while they do the same damned thing.
It's protecting themselves, not us. And the city guard is completely different! They don't steal children from their families and lock them up just because they have the chance of maybe someday becoming criminals.
[ I see your italics, and raise you some dramatic gesturing. ]
A tiny fraction of mages hurt people, just like a tiny fraction of people become criminals. Do you want to go round up everyone in Lowtown and stick them in a tower, because they're slightly more likely to kill someone than the general population?
Yes, [ Kostos says, with dramatic eyebrows instead of hand gestures, because he's folding his arms. ] Yes, that is exactly the same thing and exactly what I want. When do we start?
[ Do what? he asks, slightly via eyebrows but mainly via unfolding his arms to spread them at his sides, which has a bonus hint of come at me. ]
If we cannot admit that we are not like other people, you are never going to make progress with anyone but Libertarians, and everyone else will never let us go, because they are not stupid.
[ It's like he wants Nell to come shove him, which she looks increasingly likely to do. ]
You'd like that, wouldn't you? [ two can play at the shitty nitpicking game ] You'd like them to never let us go so you can go back to hiding in your Circle, enjoying your three meals a day and four-poster bed and patting yourself on the back for being a good boy who did what the Chantry said instead of actually trying to live in the world and take responsibility for controlling yourself without them there to hold your hand.
[ Two can play it, and right now she's better at it, even if she has no way to know exactly how good—a spot so sore he hides it even from her, especially from her, and covers it now by stepping forward instead of back. ]
Responsibility? I know what I am. I know what my limits are. And you can—fuck.
[ Off. But he's too angry, momentarily, for prepositions. ]
You can't fuck in your precious Circles, you'd think that'd be a dealbreaker for you.
[ She may not know precisely why, but Nell has a sense for blood in the water and pushes forward, jabbing a finger in the center of his chest in time-honored, incredibly-irritating fashion as she intentionally misinterprets his exclamation. ]
What are you so afraid of, Kostos? You know your limits. You've been out in the world for years now, when are you going to man up and stop crying for a fucking nanny to come hover over your shoulder?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
from across the room by the window
A partial strike only of combat mages? That's a terrible idea. Do they have your balls in that vault with my phylactery?
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They will not be refusing anything. The choice is with four people in a high fortified tower. None of them will be begging for their lives from healers anytime soon.
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[ He has to stop and actually do that, the thinking, to be able to get words in order. ]
Being reasonable is a statement. I think telling them that they can't direct us to be dangerous with one hand and punish us for being dangerous with the other—as a first step, of course if they refuse and we leave altogether they would lose everything—
If they do agree, then we have to live with these people, still, when it's done.
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And no, it doesn't work. What are you actually suggesting, that only the mages who are primarily here to fight stop engaging in combat and everyone else keeps working? We're not all fighting every day, or even every week. No one will notice, and if they do it will be because some mage out on a mission refuses to support his team and then people will die, and your line-drawing to try to avoid harm will be all the more pointless.
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He is still not going to say out loud that he's wrong about anything. ]
The healers, [ he finally says, gesturing with his quiet crystal. ] If we stop everything else, if they agree to that much, they will not turn away from people dying in front of them. Their friends. Just because we don't have any— [ Other than mages. ] Life or death, maybe. No help for their aches and scars. Whatever the healers would agree to. A deliberate exception would look better than broken ranks.
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A deliberate exception would look better than broken ranks, and there are too many with scruples. [ scruples, like it's a disease ] But it should be just that, an exception, for specific, narrow cases where lives are actually in danger and non-mages can't help. None of this stopping in stages crap, all that does is draw the whole thing out longer and make it easier to tell which of us is most replaceable.
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We will all be replaceable if enough mages are concerned about jeopardizing the fate of the entire world, [ he says, for lack of anything else to be contrary about now without going back and raising his own bar. ] And there are Loyalists at Skyhold—grown ones—who will not go along with destruction, whatever you tell them. If I had any sense left I would be say they should be secured in Val Royeaux until the new Divine can decide.
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Maker, save me from your self-loathing Loyalist bullshit. "Secured in Val Royeaux." I hardly know where to begin with that notion. Your balls really are in that vault and someone misled you about what the Hands of the Divine are for! [ Harder, not joking at all: ] There is no point in helping to save the world if they're just going to deny us a place in it again.
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And there is no point to this. He might be able to say there was one later, that arguing against him is good practice for arguing against Loyalists who haven't given up later, but really it's just that he's always somewhat spoiling for a fight. ]
The Circles were a place.
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So are the Abyssal Wastes [ she snaps ] so is a Tevinter slave pen. We would be better off letting Corypheus conquer this entire fucking world than going back to the way things were.
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Ah, yes, the Tevinter slave pens, with their three hot meals and four-poster beds.
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[ That's worth standing up over. ]
Us, and everyone else, for a thousand years. It went wrong, but you don't say that because the city guard is corrupt there should be no guard.
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It's protecting themselves, not us. And the city guard is completely different! They don't steal children from their families and lock them up just because they have the chance of maybe someday becoming criminals.
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[ Italics. Oooh. ]
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[ I see your italics, and raise you some dramatic gesturing. ]
A tiny fraction of mages hurt people, just like a tiny fraction of people become criminals. Do you want to go round up everyone in Lowtown and stick them in a tower, because they're slightly more likely to kill someone than the general population?
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If we cannot admit that we are not like other people, you are never going to make progress with anyone but Libertarians, and everyone else will never let us go, because they are not stupid.
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You'd like that, wouldn't you? [ two can play at the shitty nitpicking game ] You'd like them to never let us go so you can go back to hiding in your Circle, enjoying your three meals a day and four-poster bed and patting yourself on the back for being a good boy who did what the Chantry said instead of actually trying to live in the world and take responsibility for controlling yourself without them there to hold your hand.
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Responsibility? I know what I am. I know what my limits are. And you can—fuck.
[ Off. But he's too angry, momentarily, for prepositions. ]
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[ She may not know precisely why, but Nell has a sense for blood in the water and pushes forward, jabbing a finger in the center of his chest in time-honored, incredibly-irritating fashion as she intentionally misinterprets his exclamation. ]
What are you so afraid of, Kostos? You know your limits. You've been out in the world for years now, when are you going to man up and stop crying for a fucking nanny to come hover over your shoulder?
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sexual content warning
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