crystal.

[cozen]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Bastien
RECIPIENT: Everyone
NOTES: Fictional war crime discussion! Probably mostly vague here, will use CWs if anything gets specific.

A quick note: we are going to be looking into the allegations that the Chantry's forces were overzealous with civilians in Tevinter. I am coordinating this for now. While we are out and about in Tevinter, if you hear anything about it, let me know. Even if they are only rumors and sound outlandish. And if it does not jeopardize anything else to ask people for more information, then by all means.

If this is something you would like to help more with on an ongoing basis, let me know. We're calling it Project Clothilde.

Comments

[dissolving]

Mostly, uh — patrols. Tracking. Escort gigs.

[ Abominations in the desert, elves in the desert, and anyone leaving the oasis could do for a sword. Cedric's mouth twists a bit, stepping onto the boat. Passes Bastien back the toy.

(It'll be a week or two before he remembers that joke, and makes a real face,) ]

Weren't getting on so hot with folks. It was... I volunteered. A lot.

[cozen]

[ Maybe the anchor was lucky then, Bastien does not say—we have to keep the ratio of obliviously pointed comments below a certain level here.

It's Tabitha at the oars today, uninterested as ever in exchanging more than a nod or paying them much attention. That means it isn't rude to take the seat furthest away from her, the way it might be with Jonah. ]

We have it pretty easy here, don't we? Comparatively.

[dissolving]

[ This is where he's supposed to divert onto some bland, true thing: That it's good that it's easier here. That there's hard shit everywhere, and Riftwatch is full of folks who run toward it. Bastien stayed for the ruins, dug the rubble, helped his neighbours; sacrificed. Rutyer's still here, with his bow and the picture of a little girl. They kill dragons, they end nightmares,

So this is where he should pass it back. But that's not why they're here. ]

Know folks saw it, but dunno if they get it. 'S been... well, been harder on the company men, I reckon.

[ Or half Orlais wouldn't have deserted. ]

Chantry spent too much to starve us. But my teeth're still loose, and time off's a joke, and I didn't have a lieutenant, because we kept losing 'em like some fucking curse; 'til no one wanted the job. And, well.

[ He's talking too much. A shrug. ]

Five years of that.

[cozen]

Five—it has been that long, hasn't it? Shit.

[ He's watching Cedric's hands more than his face. More comfortable that way, sitting alongside each other, and he's learned keeping his ear still makes things simpler to process. Lemons in his pigeonhole would be condescending, maybe. Chatting with the kitchen staff about winter stews, about keeping the pieces small enough for the back of a mouth, staying careful with surprise hard bits—that he wouldn't have to know anything about. ]

Did it feel like it was going to keep on? I mean—I'm not asking you to predict the future. Not really. But after it happened, with the soldiers you knew, did it feel like something had been released and finished, for the time being? Were people ashamed of it and settling down? Or were they emboldened, and it felt like it was only starting?

[dissolving]

[ One hand knuckles the other, rubbing loose circles into the space between finger and thumb. Water laps the side of the ferry, sloshing salt about their boots. A seagull screams. The hum of the city grows louder with every creak of oar. Noise,

You can lose yourself in it. Turns over a palm, traces the question. ]

Dunno. Losing Starkhaven, that was a blow. That we never — [ Turned aside, diverted full forces to the siege. ] — But it won't be the last. And shame... Reckon some folks get bolder, when they got something to run from. Looks like control.

[ What's self-awareness. He's never met her. ]