Four years, Brother--but we remained with the wreckage for three of them, our templars and those of us still loyal to the Chantry. Until we couldn't remain in Hasmal for the city's fear of what we might do, and Knight-Commander Brycen sent for help from the Inquisition.
[Yet it is a gift, Myr doesn't say, but inclines his head in the face of Deacon's rebuke: acknowledged.] And I may indeed treat it more lightly than it deserves, for we live with it near to hand in the Circles and spend our lives immersed in it. Knowing that fear is justified, [somewhat,] and knowing how best to act to ease it--are two different things. I do not always get the latter right, in my enthusiasm.
[He will not cavil and pretend he is other than what he is; he will not go back to that scared boy who nearly let the idea the Maker had cursed him consume him. That isn't who Iolan Shivana raised his son to be.
But there's also no sense in alienating someone who speaks the words his own heart has often uttered; though what they each define as rot in the Chantry differs greatly on important points, Myr suspects. But it's enough on other points to hear that much said plainly.
Soft, then,] The Inquisition took the rebel mages in and any templars who would come to them, and thus we all were spared the war they'd started. I'm ever-mindful of those who weren't given so much.
[But ah, then, to the matter of rifters-- He visibly hesitates when Deacon said we have no proof; because it isn't true. And he doesn't know what or how much he should say of the truth, only that it is there to be had--anyone might speak of what had happened during the rifter plague; their own records contain word of it--and is it falsity to not point someone to it?
Attack the other point first. Don't make a mistake for want of careful thought on what you do and don't owe this man.]
Their gods have left them. [Six, saying her god's voice was silent and yet she prayed anyway.] They aren't be found within the Fade; so much couldn't be said for the Old Gods or the demons or any other foul thing men have worshipped and would part the Veil for. But-- [breath in, breath out,] I take your caution, Brother.
no subject
[Yet it is a gift, Myr doesn't say, but inclines his head in the face of Deacon's rebuke: acknowledged.] And I may indeed treat it more lightly than it deserves, for we live with it near to hand in the Circles and spend our lives immersed in it. Knowing that fear is justified, [somewhat,] and knowing how best to act to ease it--are two different things. I do not always get the latter right, in my enthusiasm.
[He will not cavil and pretend he is other than what he is; he will not go back to that scared boy who nearly let the idea the Maker had cursed him consume him. That isn't who Iolan Shivana raised his son to be.
But there's also no sense in alienating someone who speaks the words his own heart has often uttered; though what they each define as rot in the Chantry differs greatly on important points, Myr suspects. But it's enough on other points to hear that much said plainly.
Soft, then,] The Inquisition took the rebel mages in and any templars who would come to them, and thus we all were spared the war they'd started. I'm ever-mindful of those who weren't given so much.
[But ah, then, to the matter of rifters-- He visibly hesitates when Deacon said we have no proof; because it isn't true. And he doesn't know what or how much he should say of the truth, only that it is there to be had--anyone might speak of what had happened during the rifter plague; their own records contain word of it--and is it falsity to not point someone to it?
Attack the other point first. Don't make a mistake for want of careful thought on what you do and don't owe this man.]
Their gods have left them. [Six, saying her god's voice was silent and yet she prayed anyway.] They aren't be found within the Fade; so much couldn't be said for the Old Gods or the demons or any other foul thing men have worshipped and would part the Veil for. But-- [breath in, breath out,] I take your caution, Brother.