( lulled into a brief sense of safety by the startled way she laughs at secretly in love— she is not anticipating what happens after you kill the empress? and it does, immediately, sort of feel like a trap. it's been a weird, difficult few weeks. she's only recently discovered byerly feels very differently about her than she'd previously believed, and confronted with someone who loves him as much as she does (more, probably, but you know: in a different way) and is better at it it's hard not to feel a little bit paranoid,
that she's being led into saying something stupid and ignorant, that anything she says is going to be mocked or belittled or used as evidence against her, and that she'll only have herself to blame for it. she has only ever had herself to blame for being hurt by byerly; the rush of humiliated anger when cedric had spoken to her has already drained away to resigned acceptance that nothing's really changed. the smile fades into uncertainty, studying him in return as if she can divine from his face the sincerity of the question for this little quiz. how many spikes are in the pit if she walks forward.
but bastien hasn't actually ever been unkind to her. she hasn't felt stupid talking to him. and it's the sort of thing she knows interests him, and she doesn't entirely know how to answer that question except to take it seriously, so she starts slowly, feeling her way through a thing no one has actually asked her before: )
Well, ideally, in a scenario where I got that far, much more intelligent people than me who know a great deal more about the consequences of that action would have already thought about and planned for that. I wouldn't have got there by myself. The flippant answer, is, you know — either something terrible or nothing.
( hashtag just orlais things. )
The worry would be just another fucking meaningless civil war to replace her with, what, someone equally bad? If I had the shot and I didn't know anything but that I could kill her, I don't know what I'd do.
( because she wants to say: of course I wouldn't take it. but if she were there, in that moment, and she didn't know if she would get another chance, )
I mean, she burned my sisters to death and I want her to fucking pay for it, but if she'd died, and we had Gaspard? I read the pamphlets he put out. I don't know what it would look like. I always thought, you know, the deserters and the elves and the mages and us, here— wouldn't we be more powerful, together? If it wasn't just shooting that bitch off her throne, but people cooperated and she wasn't replaced by one of her equally dreadful fucking cousins a week later after half a dozen people have been put to death. I don't know. I worry about it. Everyone's so separate.
no subject
that she's being led into saying something stupid and ignorant, that anything she says is going to be mocked or belittled or used as evidence against her, and that she'll only have herself to blame for it. she has only ever had herself to blame for being hurt by byerly; the rush of humiliated anger when cedric had spoken to her has already drained away to resigned acceptance that nothing's really changed. the smile fades into uncertainty, studying him in return as if she can divine from his face the sincerity of the question for this little quiz. how many spikes are in the pit if she walks forward.
but bastien hasn't actually ever been unkind to her. she hasn't felt stupid talking to him. and it's the sort of thing she knows interests him, and she doesn't entirely know how to answer that question except to take it seriously, so she starts slowly, feeling her way through a thing no one has actually asked her before: )
Well, ideally, in a scenario where I got that far, much more intelligent people than me who know a great deal more about the consequences of that action would have already thought about and planned for that. I wouldn't have got there by myself. The flippant answer, is, you know — either something terrible or nothing.
( hashtag just orlais things. )
The worry would be just another fucking meaningless civil war to replace her with, what, someone equally bad? If I had the shot and I didn't know anything but that I could kill her, I don't know what I'd do.
( because she wants to say: of course I wouldn't take it. but if she were there, in that moment, and she didn't know if she would get another chance, )
I mean, she burned my sisters to death and I want her to fucking pay for it, but if she'd died, and we had Gaspard? I read the pamphlets he put out. I don't know what it would look like. I always thought, you know, the deserters and the elves and the mages and us, here— wouldn't we be more powerful, together? If it wasn't just shooting that bitch off her throne, but people cooperated and she wasn't replaced by one of her equally dreadful fucking cousins a week later after half a dozen people have been put to death. I don't know. I worry about it. Everyone's so separate.