[There's guilt in Myr yet for what he'd done; combined with the faintest edge-on perception of Linden's discomfort it makes this entire conversation feel difficult and fraught, ground not to be navigated in a drunkard's weave. Yet here he is, his fourth (fifth?) drink in and...trying his damnedest not to presume overmuch while still drawn to the camaraderie Linden's providing like a moth spiraling in toward a flame.
Inexact metaphor when Myr wasn't the one to get burned, but with the SQUIP no longer itself, there was no reason, no reason at all he should ever again have to do anything that might cause Linden harm...]
Mmm--it's usually All Souls Day the Veil's supposed to be thinner on, [he muses; it's not a matter of belief for a mage as lived reality, but... He's foggy enough that little clue on the sort of world Linden's from slips his grasp to lurk somewhere half-remembered. He might get it back later, might not.
The much more obvious ones about Linden's past, though--those don't, not as keen as Myr is to draw those parallels between them. Handler. No friends. An isolated existence... His empathy's in a better state than his logic right now, which means he's less apt to notice inconsistencies in favor of the picture painted and how it informs his understanding of the man sitting beside him.]
Maker's breath, that sounds lonely. But it was yours, wasn't it? Same way a Circle sounds binding to anyone who's never been in one...like we'd suffered for it. [Objectively, Linden had suffered for whatever he'd been through; see the marks it left in him. Objectively, Myr...was not the man he would have been if mages could live freely and he'd been left at home in the alienage.
This is not a mirror he likes thinking about. He pushes it aside to answer Linden's question,] The Templars, directly--as the hand of the Chantry; young mages aren't safe, you know? We don't have experience with demons and we're apt to use our magic out of fear, or anger--people get hurt, at best, and killed at worst. The Circle's the best place for us--we've got space to grow and learn on our own, away from anyone who'd hurt us out of ignorant fear.
[There's a kind of dogged, faithful conviction in the words that nevertheless rings a little hollow. He'd had questions even before Hasmal's uprising, questions he'd stuffed down and ignored with everything in him. Now, without anyone else around him to guarantee or require his orthodoxy, they're all slipping free and he can't keep hold of them to put them back where they belong...] I did go willingly, though. As much as you can when you're pushed into their arms. After Van got his magic and they carried him out of the alienage in a sack because he wouldn't stop fighting--
[Hm. This is a little disjointed. He pauses, reverses,] Van was--Van's my cousin. Magic runs in the blood, sometimes, and I think...Dad had an inkling I might be a mage, too. Because ever after that he'd talk to me about magic when no one else might be listening, and what a gift it was, and how mages had to be responsible and obedient.
He reminded me of that before they took me to the Circle. So I--was.
no subject
Inexact metaphor when Myr wasn't the one to get burned, but with the SQUIP no longer itself, there was no reason, no reason at all he should ever again have to do anything that might cause Linden harm...]
Mmm--it's usually All Souls Day the Veil's supposed to be thinner on, [he muses; it's not a matter of belief for a mage as lived reality, but... He's foggy enough that little clue on the sort of world Linden's from slips his grasp to lurk somewhere half-remembered. He might get it back later, might not.
The much more obvious ones about Linden's past, though--those don't, not as keen as Myr is to draw those parallels between them. Handler. No friends. An isolated existence... His empathy's in a better state than his logic right now, which means he's less apt to notice inconsistencies in favor of the picture painted and how it informs his understanding of the man sitting beside him.]
Maker's breath, that sounds lonely. But it was yours, wasn't it? Same way a Circle sounds binding to anyone who's never been in one...like we'd suffered for it. [Objectively, Linden had suffered for whatever he'd been through; see the marks it left in him. Objectively, Myr...was not the man he would have been if mages could live freely and he'd been left at home in the alienage.
This is not a mirror he likes thinking about. He pushes it aside to answer Linden's question,] The Templars, directly--as the hand of the Chantry; young mages aren't safe, you know? We don't have experience with demons and we're apt to use our magic out of fear, or anger--people get hurt, at best, and killed at worst. The Circle's the best place for us--we've got space to grow and learn on our own, away from anyone who'd hurt us out of ignorant fear.
[There's a kind of dogged, faithful conviction in the words that nevertheless rings a little hollow. He'd had questions even before Hasmal's uprising, questions he'd stuffed down and ignored with everything in him. Now, without anyone else around him to guarantee or require his orthodoxy, they're all slipping free and he can't keep hold of them to put them back where they belong...] I did go willingly, though. As much as you can when you're pushed into their arms. After Van got his magic and they carried him out of the alienage in a sack because he wouldn't stop fighting--
[Hm. This is a little disjointed. He pauses, reverses,] Van was--Van's my cousin. Magic runs in the blood, sometimes, and I think...Dad had an inkling I might be a mage, too. Because ever after that he'd talk to me about magic when no one else might be listening, and what a gift it was, and how mages had to be responsible and obedient.
He reminded me of that before they took me to the Circle. So I--was.