Part of that is what I wonder at, what faith is to a person, what makes something real to them. The Avvar believe in spirits as their gods, and spirits are a thing they can see better than you will ever see the Maker or Andraste, yet they still believe. [Is it faith if you have proof of existence? Morrigan with questions she never thought she'd be asking yet here she is because she went in search of her mother only to find a fragment that troubles her heart.] What if godhood can be what the Tevinters made of it. Bend down on your knee, glut it with blood and sacrifice. They had dragons once.
[They have Blights now, Archdemons and she has seen one, witnessed all the foulness pouring off it as acrid smoke and magic, the holes in it, the rot.]
How can you know they do not know the will of your Maker? [Leliana. Leliana who saw further than anyone, whose thoughts were and are at times near an anti-thesis of the Chantry rhetoric that the loss rises up in Morrigan unexpectedly, catches in her throat enough to damn near choke her.]
The Dalish would tell you that their Creators existed, and of course you should know history well enough to know the Exalted March against them. All that I have seen in my travel and studies has lead me to believe that there were indeed Creators, though what they were-- well, the Dalish would not want me to speculate. [Almost coy. Almost. If it weren't for the words of this Geldauran.] I wonder though, what then of gods that become forgotten.
Action would define us. What one does. Does not do. The will to do a thing. A thing the Chantry has stripped from mages often enough in the past, oddly by separating them from the Fade. Where we go in dreaming. [She pauses, long enough to be pointed and dramatic as is her fashion.] And in death.
no subject
[They have Blights now, Archdemons and she has seen one, witnessed all the foulness pouring off it as acrid smoke and magic, the holes in it, the rot.]
How can you know they do not know the will of your Maker? [Leliana. Leliana who saw further than anyone, whose thoughts were and are at times near an anti-thesis of the Chantry rhetoric that the loss rises up in Morrigan unexpectedly, catches in her throat enough to damn near choke her.]
The Dalish would tell you that their Creators existed, and of course you should know history well enough to know the Exalted March against them. All that I have seen in my travel and studies has lead me to believe that there were indeed Creators, though what they were-- well, the Dalish would not want me to speculate. [Almost coy. Almost. If it weren't for the words of this Geldauran.] I wonder though, what then of gods that become forgotten.
Action would define us. What one does. Does not do. The will to do a thing. A thing the Chantry has stripped from mages often enough in the past, oddly by separating them from the Fade. Where we go in dreaming. [She pauses, long enough to be pointed and dramatic as is her fashion.] And in death.