"We have already changed it." Provided you take the damn advice. Her hands fold once more, a glance over her shoulder. She holds his gaze. "A second chance, Kain."
She's been living on borrowed time some two years now, knows those still left to her are beginning to run thin. To die with her right mind is a luxury she will not afford.
But Kain is young. Young, and foolish, and a Warden. Meant to have more time — or at least a different end. One that owns some purpose.
(Would she have changed her path, had she known it then? Felt it, and not just seen the facts? No,)
"Who else would keep the letters?"
Get him thinking about something else, however close the topic. Get him thinking and not just fearing, that's the key.
"Could that be true?" Kain hopes that by having this conversation, there's a chance at changing all of this. He can't stop looking at those last chilling words, the words of someone who knows he's lost, but begging and pleading for release from that suffering. It's not something he'd want to burden anyone with.
It all sinks in very suddenly. He knew all along, of course, after all the letters are addressed to one person alone. But somehow he'd hoped he could have spared her all of this. Somehow, he'd thought maybe some future version of himself had... given her the letters. Foolish. No. The things she's saying... the way this has all gone so far...
"Inessa. She... kept them. Even after I..." No, he can't say it. Death in itself isn't the problem, it's the type of death. "Even then. ...Ness, no... I can't let this happen, I can't do this to her..."
"Then do not. Use this." Wren's chin tips up, almost in challenge. "Such opportunities are rare, and they are not cheaply-given. It cost her to return this to you."
Existing alone had cost Inessa plenty.
"I do not deliver it lightly. I should not have at all, did I not believe the cause worthwhile."
"It cost her?" Kain feels his pulse quicken as she says those words, as he realizes that he may not be the only one to suffer in this future world. He can't even bear to imagine it... himself dead, and her left to deal with... whatever other dreadful things might be in store. "This makes for grim hearing, but... you did the right thing. I would rather know."
He lowers his head a moment, running the possibilities through his mind. What if it's too late and... what if he never gets to say these things in these letters. "Please." He looks back up. "What else do you know of what happened- will happen? Anything you can tell me? Does the world... do we fall to Corypheus?"
"Venatori control everything south of the Imperium. Blight takes what famine and tyranny do not. The Inquisition dies in the Deep Roads."
A matter of fact recollection, because that’s what they are: Facts. She’s already written the reports, recounted it often enough to inure. After a month in that place, there’s no shock left to the telling,
(Not to these pieces, broad and impersonal and strained of that which can wound her own tongue.)
"We have recovered intelligence. It is actionable — I cannot say whether it shall be enough. But to give in to despair is to lose this war before it has begun."
"Then... we have more to worry about than just personal concerns, if all of this is true." Although he's going to agonize over this for a long while to come. He can't help but obsess over the worst. But if what she's saying is true... the Inquisition is about to go down a very dark path. One which it may not come back from.
He sighs heavily. He fears they're all doomed. All bound to fall, one by one. "Right... we must take action, that's all we can do. You're sure that it gives us some chance to win? To change what you saw?"
How can something be changed that's already happened and been witnessed, experienced even? Or will be happening. The whole matter of traveling through time is hard to wrap his head around.
"An army is made of persons. It is as much your duty to care for yourself as for those around you."
Do as I say, not as I do writ large. Even so:
"I am certain of little in this world, save the work of my own hands. We must all raise our hands together in this." A short shake of the head. "If you fear you've run afoul of the lyrium, I bid you speak with me, I have —"
"— Handled such matters, before; I may provide counsel. Consider it repayment for the warning."
He does often forget the whole 'caring for one's self' part, usually too preoccupied with defending others.
Kain nods grimly when she mentions that, knowing that it's entirely important for him to have someone there who can... deal with him if he ever does end up infected.
"I hope it truly doesn't come to that, but I promise you. I'll seek you out should I become tainted by it. I don't want to risk anyone else's life. I won't harm Inessa. I... I didn't cause her harm, did I? In what you saw?"
"Physically? I've few details to offer. But your absence? Without doubt."
At times she is given to think little stings so deeply as that — but that's a foolish notion. A child's. The world is full of other, greater hurts.
Get stabbed a few times, and you know absence is a real pussy answer.
"Nothing is permanent. Do what you can, use what is available to you. And hold to those you might." A gesture to the tentflap. "If there is nothing else, Warden?"
Though he has no doubt it wouldn't go well, if he were... really gone. He's never been too afraid or bothered by the fact of his own death, as a Warden it's something to face earlier than most have to. But still... he hates to think of what could come from him dying. Especially in such an awful way.
"I'll do everything in my power to prevent this future from happening. Anything at all. I can't... I can't..." He looks down at the letters, at that last one with the scrawl that only hints at the way his mind had broken. Will break. Could break. Trying to think of a future that had happened, and yet hasn't... is confusing. "Just that... I appreciate you telling me this, Ser. It makes for grim hearing, but I would rather know."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
in_death_sacrifice) wrote2016-09-11 02:36 am
no subject
She's been living on borrowed time some two years now, knows those still left to her are beginning to run thin. To die with her right mind is a luxury she will not afford.
But Kain is young. Young, and foolish, and a Warden. Meant to have more time — or at least a different end. One that owns some purpose.
(Would she have changed her path, had she known it then? Felt it, and not just seen the facts? No,)
"Who else would keep the letters?"
Get him thinking about something else, however close the topic. Get him thinking and not just fearing, that's the key.
no subject
It all sinks in very suddenly. He knew all along, of course, after all the letters are addressed to one person alone. But somehow he'd hoped he could have spared her all of this. Somehow, he'd thought maybe some future version of himself had... given her the letters. Foolish. No. The things she's saying... the way this has all gone so far...
"Inessa. She... kept them. Even after I..." No, he can't say it. Death in itself isn't the problem, it's the type of death. "Even then. ...Ness, no... I can't let this happen, I can't do this to her..."
no subject
Existing alone had cost Inessa plenty.
"I do not deliver it lightly. I should not have at all, did I not believe the cause worthwhile."
no subject
He lowers his head a moment, running the possibilities through his mind. What if it's too late and... what if he never gets to say these things in these letters. "Please." He looks back up. "What else do you know of what happened- will happen? Anything you can tell me? Does the world... do we fall to Corypheus?"
no subject
A matter of fact recollection, because that’s what they are: Facts. She’s already written the reports, recounted it often enough to inure. After a month in that place, there’s no shock left to the telling,
(Not to these pieces, broad and impersonal and strained of that which can wound her own tongue.)
"We have recovered intelligence. It is actionable — I cannot say whether it shall be enough. But to give in to despair is to lose this war before it has begun."
It already has.
no subject
He sighs heavily. He fears they're all doomed. All bound to fall, one by one. "Right... we must take action, that's all we can do. You're sure that it gives us some chance to win? To change what you saw?"
How can something be changed that's already happened and been witnessed, experienced even? Or will be happening. The whole matter of traveling through time is hard to wrap his head around.
no subject
Do as I say, not as I do writ large. Even so:
"I am certain of little in this world, save the work of my own hands. We must all raise our hands together in this." A short shake of the head. "If you fear you've run afoul of the lyrium, I bid you speak with me, I have —"
"— Handled such matters, before; I may provide counsel. Consider it repayment for the warning."
no subject
Kain nods grimly when she mentions that, knowing that it's entirely important for him to have someone there who can... deal with him if he ever does end up infected.
"I hope it truly doesn't come to that, but I promise you. I'll seek you out should I become tainted by it. I don't want to risk anyone else's life. I won't harm Inessa. I... I didn't cause her harm, did I? In what you saw?"
no subject
At times she is given to think little stings so deeply as that — but that's a foolish notion. A child's. The world is full of other, greater hurts.
Get stabbed a few times, and you know absence is a real pussy answer.
"Nothing is permanent. Do what you can, use what is available to you. And hold to those you might." A gesture to the tentflap. "If there is nothing else, Warden?"
no subject
Though he has no doubt it wouldn't go well, if he were... really gone. He's never been too afraid or bothered by the fact of his own death, as a Warden it's something to face earlier than most have to. But still... he hates to think of what could come from him dying. Especially in such an awful way.
"I'll do everything in my power to prevent this future from happening. Anything at all. I can't... I can't..." He looks down at the letters, at that last one with the scrawl that only hints at the way his mind had broken. Will break. Could break. Trying to think of a future that had happened, and yet hasn't... is confusing. "Just that... I appreciate you telling me this, Ser. It makes for grim hearing, but I would rather know."