[He cannot know the thoughts of another's heart, but there are patterns in the world one can guess at, and Myr knows how he falls into them: Elven mage, twice beneath contempt for the most orthodox. (Elven mage who has ideas above his station and beyond the walls of the Circle, already a heretic in his heart--oh, what they'd do with that.)
He knows--but it's still hard to suspect of anyone in particular, unprovoked, that prejudice plays a role in how he's treated because he always wants to believe better. Always tries to. Certainly in this Brother's case he'd been incautious with his words, tread around the edge of orthodoxy in a way Coupe had already dressed him down for once before--
But it doesn't mean either of them are right. Even if they're worth listening to and listen he does, to the end of what Deacon's got to say, without interruption or a flicker of anything beyond obedient interest on his face.
Quietly, then:]
When speaking of mages and magic, Brother, I keep the Chant always in mind: Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker.
The Chantry protects her people. The Chantry protected me and my Circle, [until it couldn't,] but came too late for Kirkwall. Evil men wrest and pervert the Chant to their own ends; they shackle the Chantry's hands and slow her work of justice, and all the while the innocent suffer and die. I would see them rooted out; to not speak of what they have done and the harm it's done the Chantry's name gives them cover. To say none have reason for concern while they remain in place--
[He realizes where this could go, how it contrasts with what he'd said and the very clear warning that he's been given. He cuts himself short, draws a breath in and lets it out before continuing,]
But I've known only the inside of a Circle for most of my life. You've fought for the folk who need it most and it isn't my ideals that will stitch the Chantry back together. I'd have you as an ally against those who would destroy her completely.
no subject
He knows--but it's still hard to suspect of anyone in particular, unprovoked, that prejudice plays a role in how he's treated because he always wants to believe better. Always tries to. Certainly in this Brother's case he'd been incautious with his words, tread around the edge of orthodoxy in a way Coupe had already dressed him down for once before--
But it doesn't mean either of them are right. Even if they're worth listening to and listen he does, to the end of what Deacon's got to say, without interruption or a flicker of anything beyond obedient interest on his face.
Quietly, then:]
When speaking of mages and magic, Brother, I keep the Chant always in mind: Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker.
The Chantry protects her people. The Chantry protected me and my Circle, [until it couldn't,] but came too late for Kirkwall. Evil men wrest and pervert the Chant to their own ends; they shackle the Chantry's hands and slow her work of justice, and all the while the innocent suffer and die. I would see them rooted out; to not speak of what they have done and the harm it's done the Chantry's name gives them cover. To say none have reason for concern while they remain in place--
[He realizes where this could go, how it contrasts with what he'd said and the very clear warning that he's been given. He cuts himself short, draws a breath in and lets it out before continuing,]
But I've known only the inside of a Circle for most of my life. You've fought for the folk who need it most and it isn't my ideals that will stitch the Chantry back together. I'd have you as an ally against those who would destroy her completely.