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lesetoilesfous · 4 years

Note

For the DADWC: “It’s really not that complicated.”

It took me SO long to decide what I wanted to do with this prompt but I think I figured it out so I hope you enjoy!!

(If you want me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting

Pairing: gen, FenHawke, pre-FenHanders

Characters: Varric Tethras, Anders, Fenris, Garrett Hawke, Isabela, Merrill

Tags: post-DA2, canon divergence, I haven’t played DAI yet I’m sorry y’all, my canon now I do what I want, what if Varric and Anders were still friends and Varric is doing what he does best, pro-Anders (including the chantry boom), anti-Sebastian (nothing against him I just needed a villain), mage rights

Rating: Teen and Up

“It’s really not that complicated.”

It wasn’t often that Varric Tethras allowed himself to look visibly impatient with anyone - and even less often than that when it came to Garrett Hawke. But he looks annoyed now.

He also, Anders notes to a feeling a physical relief, has not moved from where he is standing between Anders and their former companions. Next to the door, Merrill looks like she’s about to start crying. Isabela and Fenris are differently unreadable. Isabela is wearing an expression of wry amusement that doesn’t reach her eyes, and Anders thinks all of them know her well enough to notice the way she has tilted her hips - prepared to fight if she needs to. Fenris is as poised and impassive as he ever is, elegant as some ancient Tevene statue, though his countenance is far better suited to the imperial dignity of the magisters than the wracked suffering of the slaves. Anders doubts that he’d appreciate the comparison.

Hawke looks like he’s been slapped. His expression of shock, however, quickly darkens into thunder. Anders takes a step back without entirely meaning to, and sees Fenris catch the movement. A very slight frown appears on the elf’s brow, quick and brief as a breeze on still water.

“It’s been two years, Varric!” Hawke is raising his voice now, and Anders feels the way Varric and Isabela’s weight shifts, poised for movement like puppets in a show. Next to his side, Hawke’s mabari watches them mildly. Anders resists the urge to pick up his staff. Hawke’s poker face was seemingly perfect. His dog’s was not. Anders tellls himself he has no reason to be afraid yet.

His heart does not seem interested in listening.

Even as he registers the rush of his own frantic heartbeat, Anders feels a wash of cool magic spread across his chest, soothing his body as Justice murmurs in the back of his mind.

I will not let them hurt you.

Anders curls his fingers and tries to school his features into impassivity - a feat that’s harder to do when he notices Fenris staring at him again. There is no mabari to warn him of Fenris’ intentions, and Anders feels his heart jumping into the back of his throat despite Justice’s efforts as he tries to read anything in the elf’s face.

Then Hawke flings his hands into the air and Anders jumps as he begins to pace back and forth across the soft, scarred woon floor of the tavern in which they’re meeting. “I’d expect it of the rest of them, but you! Varric, I trusted you.” There’s a terrible fracture in Hawke’s voice then, and all of them flinch. Garrett hasn’t been this audibly upset - that Anders knows of - since the death of his mother. Varric’s shoulders relax as he begins to lower Bianca, and Anders tries not to let that scare him.

He will not betray you.

Justice’s voice is firm in his conviction. But Justice is a spirit, and knows little of such things.

“Hawke...” Varric’s voice is soft, conciliatory.

Anders glances at the window - it’s boarded shut, a storm had come in not long after Hawke and the others had arrived. It’s hardly the best weather in which to make a quick getaway, but the rain will at least cover his tracks. And one of the benefits of spending eighteen months half starving is that he’s pretty sure he’ll be able to fit through it, once he gets the bolt open.

“We’re not here to hurt him.” All of them turn to stare at Fenris, whose eyes are stil fixed on Anders. Anders resists the urge to step back again, feeling the wooden bench behind him barely brushing his calves. Fenris meets his eyes, and he is as handsome as he was the blighted day he’d met him. “You. Anders. We’re not here to hurt you.” Fenris’ voice is soft, as if he’s speaking to some wounded halla.

Anders bristles. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.” He has his staff in his hand now - he’s not sure when he picked it up - but the weight of it is reassuring and the way it responds to his magic is better. He feels his panic ease as the detached kind of confidence he’d learned from war replaces it. He wouldn’t win a fight, not with all of them - but he’s sure he’d manage to stay alive long enough to get out the window. As quicky as he dares, Anders begins to slide his foot in the direction of the wall. Fenris’ frown deepens.

“What would you have me do? To prove it to you?”

Anders laughs, once, and it’s more of a reflex than humour. His hand tightens hard enough around his staff to hurt. “Put down the giant sword?”

Fenris reaches up and takes the greatsword off his back, laying it carefully on the table beside him and stepping back and away from it.

At the same time, Hawke slips the daggers from his back with the same deadly, dextrous ease Anders has seen him use a thousand times. For one thick, painful heartbeat he half imagines he can feel his heart at the back of his mouth. He’s seen how quicky Hawke can kill people with those things. He knows how quickly he could kill him. He knows how close he’d come before.

(”You cannot let him live! After what he’s done!” Sebastian’s accent is thick with his anger and despite himself - despite everything - despite his certainty, and his desparation, and his fury and his grief and his resignation - a stupid, foolish, too loving part of Anders half expects Garrett to answer him immediately. To defend him, as he had so easily defended Isabela to the Arishok.

Garrett says nothing.

The last time Anders felt like this, Karl was begging him to kill him.

He waits to die.

When Hawke speaks, his voice is ragged. “Go.”

Anders doesn’t question it. He runs.)

Hawke meets Anders eyes, and lays his daggers carefully beside Fenris’ sword. Then he steps back and away from them.

Anders blinks, and the room blurs.

Merrill swings her staff off her back and places it beside the other weapons. She meets Anders’ eyes with a gentle smile. “Just for safety.”

Isabela looks at him. “Well, kitten?”

Anders takes a deep breath, and steps back and away from the window. Fenris and Garrett’s shoulders slump. Varric chuckles, and lowers Bianca. “Not that I don’t love a good old fashioned Antivan stand-off, but now we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way - can I buy you a drink?”

He looks up at Hawke with a small smile and a hand raised. Hawke frowns. “Why? Why didn’t you trust me?”

Varric’s eyes narrow. “Not sure if you remember, Garrett, but your fingers were looking mighty twitchy the last time you saw Blondie.”

Outside, thunder crashes across the sky and shivers through the tavern’s thick walls. Anders jumps. When Fenris speaks, he does so softly. “Perhaps we should move away from the window?”

Anders grins at him, and it’s mostly just baring his teeth. “Why? Worried I’ll escape?”

Fenris’ eyes are green and lovely and unreadable. “Just worried, mage.”

Anders falters, and for a moment he could swear the elf...smiles at him. But he blinks, the fire in the torches on the walls flickers, and then the expression is gone. Hawke, meanwhile, continues to be focused on Varric.

“ - you’re the one who wrote a book making him out to be a bloody Maferath! Or worse, Hessarian!”

Varric pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well I could hardly make him Andraste, now could I?”

Despite himself, Anders sniggers. Isabela smirks at him, Fenris only raises an eyebrow. For half a moment, with the distant music of the tavern’s minstrels starting up, and the smell of cheap ale rich and savoury in the air, Anders can almost imagine they’re back in The Hanged Man again, and the worst he has to fear from these people is whatever creative payment they’ll come up with in lieu of coin when he inevitably loses to them at cards.

But then Fenris moves towards him, and Anders’ body tenses, and the illusion shatters. Before Fenris can reach him, Hawke looks up, and with easy familiarity slips his arm around the elf’s waist. Fenris falters, dropping a kiss on Hawke’s head where he’s sitting now, on a bench beside Varric. Anders tries hard to ignore the way that twists a coil around his heart, even after all this time, even after everything. He still isn’t sure which of them he envies more.

He speaks without thinking. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. It’s not like any of you bothered to find me.” Anders notices Varric opening his mouth, and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder through the thick leather of his coat. “Except you, Varric.”

“Hey!” Isabela scowls and Anders grins at her, moving to press a kiss to her cheek that she accepts with a tilt of her head and a grin. “Thank you.”

Anders folds his arms across his chest when he looks at the rest of them. “Merrill I can understand.” He meets her eyes, then, “I know - well, I don’t know, but I can imagine how important Dalish culture is to you and...what I did.” Anders stops, and swallows, and tries to ignore the prickling ball of guilt tearing at his insides. “I can see how that would have made things more dangerous for everyone.”

“Would you do it again?” Again, despite the softness of his voice, Fenris’ question cuts through the general noise of the tavern like nothing else. Again, he meets Anders’ eyes, and Anders cannot read his expression. The firelight shimmers strangely against the lyrium in his skin.

Anders lifts his head, and tightens his fingers around his staff, feeling the magic pulling at him like a magnet. “I would.”

He expects Fenris to rage. He expects Hawke to say something. But Fenris only nods, once, and says nothing. Hawke looks down at his hands for a moment - still big and hairy and calloused as a Fereldan farmer’s - though far more scarred. Then he looks up and meets Anders’ eyes, and Maker help him it’s as difficult to look away now as it was nearly a decade ago, when he’d waltzed into his clinic with stolen armour and borrowed knives asking for a Grey Warden.

“We’ve been looking for you. We never stopped.” Hawke’s voice is quiet, and his hands curl into loose fists in his lap. “I...” He shuts his mouth, and swallows, and Fenris’ hand curls around his shoulder and squeezes it once. Hawke doesn’t look away from Anders. “I’m so sorry.”

Anders forgets how to breathe. “You’re...what?”

Fenris squeezes Hawke’s shoulder again before stepping away from him, and lifts his chin to meet Anders’ eyes. “We both are.”

Anders is seized by the vicious, sudden fear that he is dreaming - that this is some cruel trick of the Fade, and soon he’ll wake and be alone again, on the cold hard earth in some templar-infested wood.

You are awake.

Justice’s voice is calm, but Anders knows him well enough by now to hear his curiosity. Neither of them had expected this.

Anders doesn’t know what to say.

On the other side of the tavern, a group of men break into a raucous chorus of cheering and laughter - some gamble won and lost, cards probably. Merrill turns in the direction of the noise, before looking back at the rest of them. “Remember when we used to play Wicked Grace? That was nice.”

Isabela smiles at her, and touches her tattooed cheek with the familiarity of a lover. “Of course, sheereen.”

Hawke looks at Varric. “I cannot believe you knew where he was this whole time and you didn’t tell me. I thought you hated him! Maker, I thought you were rallying Thedas to hate him, the way you wrote about him in that blighted book.”

“So that’s why you returned your copy.” Varric says, thoughtfully, stroking the thick gold stubble on his chin.

“He is right here, you know.” Anders says, a little waspishly, though he sits as he does so and, cautiously, sets his staff down beside him. It takes him a moment to peel his fingers away from the shaft and the safety it offers. When he does, Hawke is looking at him with an expression that Anders can only describe as sheepish.

“Sorry.”

Anders tries, hard, not to smile, and finds the expression pulling at his lips anyway. “I mean, you’re not wrong.” He lowers his voice, “I would drown us all in blood to keep you safe.” He giggles, and slaps Varric on the back when he scowls. “Seriously, where do you come up with this stuff?”

For a moment, Hawke’s expression doesn’t change - then, slow and bright as a sunrise, he starts to grin. Anders’ heart clenches. Maker, he’d missed that smile.

“Fenris still hasn’t forgiven him for the poopy line.”

Fenris rolls his eyes, but another smile is pulling at his lips, even as he folds his arms. “It is not the joke I take issue with. It is simply not how I speak.”

“In which language?” Anders finds himself asking, lullled into the old familiar rhythm of their conversations. Fenris raises both eyebrows at him. If Anders didn’t know him better, he’d swear the elf looked pleased.

“The trade tongue. Its..slang is nonsensical.”

Hawke laughs, and it’s a great booming thing. At his feet, his mabari lifts its head to lick his hand and he scratches it behind its sandy ears. Its tail thumps against the wooden floorboards. “Says the man who mastered Orlesian verlan.” Hawke looks at Anders, and there’s a bright humour in his eyes that Anders had only glimpsed, briefly, when he’d stepped into the tavern and seen him alive. But then Anders had stepped back, and Hawke’s face had fallen, and Varric had lifted Bianca...Anders blinks, and returns to the present as Hawke finishes. “You know it’s Orlesian backwards. I swear, that brain is wasted on a warrior.”

Fenris huffs, and he’s still smiling when he leans into Hawke’s side. “At least one of us needs to understand the principles of strategy.”

Hawke grins, and slings an arm around Fenris’ shoulders. To Anders’ surprise, Fenris lets him. Hawke looks at Varric and Anders then, and the firelight glitters over the raven-black silk of his hair. “Speaking of which. Where do we sign up to free the mages?”

Anders stares at him. “Sorry, what?”

Fenris shifts, then, leaning easily against Hawke’s side. “We did not come here to hurt you, Anders.”

Merrill grins, and sits forward, eyes bright and smile brighter. “We want to help!”

They do.

#dadwc #contreparry #da2 #mage rights #my fic

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cyclone-rachel · 4 years

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If you made a squeal to paying the asking price (not saying you have to, but I’m curious) how you would rewrite season 3 with Brainy coming back.

Ooh. That’s a good question? And I’m not sure I would do a sequel, because if I did it would be pretty similar to the actual season 3 (since I did like most of it, aside from the love triangle). However:

In the first episode, the dream/vision Kara has is sent by Imra, who is a telepath in this version, foreshadowed by the planet Saturn being in the background as Kara reunites with Brainy and her mother. Here it would be something deliberate, using the information she has in the future of those most important to Kara, in order to give her hope and tell her (albeit subconsciously) that Brainy is not dead. Because Kara does not know her yet, she can’t appear in the visions herself, but she gives her a hint as to who is sending her the dreams and uses Brainy as a messenger of some sort to inspire Kara when she is at her lowest point.

(aka my theory from the actual season 3 when the premiere aired, that I for sure sent to Supergirl Radio back then.)

And maybe in 3x02 when she’s seeing herself trapped in a pod again, there’s foreshadowing there too? Like the planet Saturn pops up again, and she doesn’t think about it at the time. I’m not sure if I would have them show up earlier than episode 7, because that might not work with the story of the season, but I might also want to have Brainy reach out to Kara earlier. Even though I do like Kara working through her angst and trauma early in the season. That’s very good. (not sure if that would be as present here? Because she knows she’s sending him home? But then again she also doesn’t know if he’s going to make it, so it’s questionable)

I want Reign to have her sword earlier? But I’m not sure when exactly I would put it in. It just looks very cool and it would be neat/badass to see her forge it herself, or to see it presented to her by the Kryptonian witches. Or it’s in her pod? Or the cult guy finds it? I don’t know.

Cult guy can stay, he was interesting. And the former cult member girl that James befriends stays too.

Brainy is not married to Imra. Imra is in a poly relationship with the two other core Legion founders, and she is very happy. Also if they wanted to make her look Indian, she could have just been played by an Indian actress? So I would have that be a thing, in my version. Also I’m not sure which Legionnaires would be introduced? But here’s some fancasts: John Harlan Kim as Lightning Lad, Holly Deveaux as Dream Girl, Kimiko Glenn as Phantom Girl, Michael Seater as Invisible Kid, Summer Bishil as Saturn Girl, Aaron Pierre as Cosmic Boy, Jacob Batalon as Bouncing Boy

Superman shows up at some point, to reunite with some of his Legion friends and possibly to give Kara some advice, as he’s dealt with a guy he knew as Davis who was similar to Reign. But I’d still have Alex say what she did to Kara in 3x09, and 3x10 would be very similar to the canon episode because I love it so much. (In terms of Kara being in a coma, and Brainy helping her out of it by telling her what Alex would say. Also the Streaky scene in its entirety, it’s perfect and needs no improvements from me)

There’s obvious tension between the DEO and the Legion because Brainy is keeping secrets from them again (since we know he does respect the timeline and all here) although of course he is in on everything. When he would’ve returned to the future, after he was healed up he would find that while the AI plague his parents talked about wasn’t real, the Blight is, and of course he devotes his time to working on a way to fix it. But when he can’t find any solutions in the 31st century, he decides to go to the source of the problem, and either it’s the same deal as in canon and he puts everyone in cryo-sleep, or they arrive just a little bit early and they wait until the timeline says a spaceship is recovered from under the National City harbor.

Kenny isn’t dead, thank you. He’s kidnapped, or goes missing, but he’s not dead. That wasn’t necessary.

Kara and Alex go to Argo together, and there’s more of an exploration of Kara’s feelings about a part of her planet being preserved. Also because Sam randomly saw Alura in a vision, maybe Alura had a part in the Worldkillers’ creation?

We still get Space Granddad, he’s still a delight.

Not sure how I would tackle Maggie and Alex? Or James and Winn, for that matter. I’d just say that the latter couple is still going strong, and have them continue to work together, with similar emotional scenes in the second half of season 3 as we saw in episodes 14 and 16, at least.

Eve may or may not be working on something shady behind Lena’s back, or she inspires Lena to start working on something shady.

I would have some Kara and Brainy angst in addition to them being happy to see each other again, because of the keeping secrets and the difference in Brainy’s demeanor that the inhibitors have caused. But they work things out, and of course still love each other.

Also, there’s more depth with Brainy and Winn’s rivalry, which I did a whole separate post about.

Kara and Sam, as well as Sam and Alex, probably have more friendship scenes, and so do Lena and James. Maybe (since Jack in my fic isn’t dead) he and Lena begin to rekindle their relationship?

No fighting Nazis in the crossover. I don’t think that was necessary.

I would introduce the Kryptonian witches earlier too? Like that concept, have Sam be visited by their holograms too, or have Selena tell her about them. And have some kind of thing about their knowing magic and then Kryptonians being vulnerable to magic.

The Legionnaires’ costumes might be the same here? Except that Brainy’s costume is what we saw from him in 5x10 and 19, because again, it’s perfect. Although I don’t really see a reason why they would have darker costumes just because they’re in a Dark Future. Why not have them be symbols of hope, like the Super-cousins, with costumes to match?

Related: James gets a costume redesign.

I probably wouldn’t include the Bon Jovi thing from 3x10, but maybe Brainy does bring the 21st century things he discovered and came to love back with him to show his friends.

Kara gets a dog. Because she deserves it.

Fort Rozz’s malfunctions in 3x11 involve Indigo somehow.

I don’t know how I would change Morgan Edge?

I would keep the Alex and Ruby bonding, because that is adorable

The DEO doesn’t storm into Julia/Purity’s house

We see the game night with the Super-friends and the Legionnaires! Winn and Brainy play Trivial Pursuit as partners! It’s adorable!

Winn leaves and Brainy stays, like in canon. Also Winn mentions that Brainy’s chair in the Legion ship looks like an egg.

Kara speaks more Kryptonian

Lena doesn’t “outsmart” Brainy by taking control of the Legion ship when he leaves his chair in 3x17

someone points out Lena wearing dresses that are sometimes inappropriate for the settings she’s in

J’onn confesses his old secret

#rachel answers questions #loveofshows #supergirl au #seriously though i do love season 3 #it's probably my favorite next to season 1 #but if i had to change things with hindsight glasses on this is what i would do #also that last thing is indeed a supergirl radio in-joke

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smutnug · 5 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alistair/Bethany Hawke Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Bethany Hawke Additional Tags: One Shot, Warden Bethany Hawke, Grey Warden Alistair (Dragon Age) Summary:

Here I am in hell! This is a stand-alone work. Seriously, it’s going nowhere. Ignore any suggestion of future plot. DEAD END.

Lucien ducks as he enters the cave, fair hair plastered to his head. “Stroud’s team’s on the way up,” he says over the noise of the storm. “Got a recruit.” He sits by Gerod, clasping his arm in silent greeting.

“A recruit?” Alistair pauses in oiling his blade. “From the Deep Roads? Is it a dwarf?"

The Orlesian curtly shakes his head. "Not a dwarf. Woman.”

This is enough to make heads turn. “Dwarves can be women too, you know,” Alistair points out reasonably.

“Not this one.”

“What’s she look like?” pipes up Cooper.

Lucien shrugs. “It was dark.”

Cooper spits out the wad of spindleweed he’s been chewing, setting off a mutter of disgust from the other men. He’s a stocky Northerner, a junior warden - almost the only kind they have these days, from this side of the border at least. He’d be considered ill-favoured at the best of times, but in the past days half his face has swollen with toothache. “No point asking your thoughts on a woman anyway, I s'pose,” he says sourly, and Gerod hides a smile.

“How far off are they?” Alistair asks. It can’t be far; the man was off scouting just after they made camp, and it’s just on dusk.

“Not long now,” Lucien confirms. “They travel slowly; the woman, she is weak.”

“Weak how?” It’s not a promising-sounding trait in a recruit, weakness.

“Sick,” the scout clarifies, unslinging the quiver from his back. “Blight.” Even in his native tongue, Lucien is more free with arrows than with words.

“Fuckin’ wonderful.” Sharp is in a foul mood, having struggled for the past hour to coax a blaze from soggy driftwood. “A pity conscript. Just what we need.”

“Stroud wouldn’t bring her in without more cause than that,” says Alistair. “Do I really need to remind you that the Warden-Commander was tainted before she joined our ranks? We don’t take on recruits out of pity.”

“How’d you explain Coop then?"

The other men guffaw; Cooper protests, but at least the mood has lightened. A week on the Storm Coast subsisting on hardtack and water weeds has done little for morale, and their little squad haven’t been together long enough to develop any real camaraderie.

If Lyna were here she’d win the men over with little gifts and thoughtful questions. But Lyna is overseeing the repairs at Vigil’s Keep and trying to rebuild their fractured order; somehow, Alistair doubts he’d get the same results as a pocket-sized, bright-eyed elf.

He explores that thought: a lesser pain perhaps than Cooper’s tooth, but yes, it still aches.

The rain has abated somewhat but the cold persists. "How’s that fire coming?” he asks Sharp. “We won’t be able to see a thing soon.” Sharp throws him a glare perfected over years in the Gwaren alienage.

“You have a bloody go if you think you can do better, Your Grace.”

Ignoring the jibe, Alistair crouches next to the elf. “Flint? Don’t we have a few boxes of those dwarven matches left?” He checked before leaving the last cache; they can’t have gone through them so quickly.

“Oh aye, we’ve got the boxes.” Sharp indicates a pile of empty matchboxes by the cave wall, evidently thrown there with some force. “What we don’t have is matches. Some fool’s been putting them back empty."

"Cooper,” Alistair calls, tossing a broken box at his feet, “we talked about this.”

“Sorry Alistair.” He sounds as though he’s talking through a mouthful of marbles.

“How’s that tooth?"

”’S'been better.“

"Give me a look.” He fishes in his jerkin for a squarish piece of stone inscribed with a light rune. It’s very nearly spent, reserved only for emergencies, but something in the boy’s voice… “Maker’s breath, Coop!"

The light attracts everyone’s attention; around him he hears the sharp intake of breath through teeth. The swollen cheek has turned pink and shiny. The boy’s eyes are dull with pain.

"This needs a healer. A proper healer.”

“The closest would be Highever,” someone says.

“He’s not going to make it to Highever,” says Sharp. “Leastways not in any state some hedge witch or jumped-up apothecary is going to help with.”

Shit. Shit. Alistair didn’t see the boy through the Joining and a dozen skirmishes just to lose him to a Void-blasted toothache. “There must be something we can do.”

“All our draughts and poultices didn’t stop it getting this far. What do you think we can do now?"

"I’m not deaf,” mutters Cooper.

“It’s fine, Coop,” Alistair says. “You’ll be fine.”

The light stutters and fails.

“We’ll have to take it out,” says Sharp, and Cooper groans.

We should have done that days ago, thinks Alistair. “We can’t even see."

Sharp kicks at the damp wood. "And whose fault is that, eh?"

"What do we use?"

"A dirk’s better than nothing.”

In the encroaching dark he can sense their eyes on him; all except Lucien and Gerod, who have stationed themselves by the cave mouth.

What would Duncan do?

The eyes he sees are the cool green of spring foliage, and a lilting voice answers his question. Duncan’s gone, Alistair. What will you do?

He should have stayed with Lyna. He’s not cut out for leadership, he’s only in charge by virtue of living through the Blight. There’s a reason they don’t call him Hero of Ferelden.

Stop that, Alistair. They need you to lead, so lead.

“Do you have a clean knife?” he asks.

The elf grunts, offended. “Clean as I can manage. Not covered in darkspawn blood, if that’s what you mean.”

“One without any of your poisons on it would be good.”

“Are you going to do it?"

"I’ll have to try.”

“In the dark?"

Maferath’s wrinkly bollocks, this is why I shouldn’t be in charge.

"Right, well keep trying on that fire. Those matchboxes should burn, shouldn’t they? With any luck Stroud will be here soon and he’ll have more matches, or dry tinder, or…something.”

“They’re here,” comes Lucien’s call.

Thank the Maker. He makes his way to the entrance. A handful of figures can be seen emerging from the blue darkness, slowed by the rain and the wet, sucking sand.

“Stroud!” he shouts. “Over here!"

The weary Wardens pick up pace, and soon he can see shadows that hint of Stroud’s familiar face, his moustache a dark smudge in the middle of his features.

"Alistair,” he calls as they near. “Why do you wait around in the dark?”

Alistair rubs a hand over his chin. “Well, the wood’s quite damp. And we ran out of matches, so…” He curses the fate that put him at equal rank with the finest swordsman in the order, a trained Chevalier and no doubt someone who could teach his men to light a fire in a dry cave.

“Hawke,” the man says, turning back to his troop. When there’s no response, he barks again, “Hawke!"

"Sorry.” It’s a woman’s voice, soft and cultured. Young, if he judges correctly. “Can I help?"

"Light. And see to the fire.”

“Yes, ser.” A blue-white glow blossoms at the end of a staff, and Alistair is momentarily blinded. Before his eyes can adjust the girl has moved away into the cave; there’s a blaze, then a hiss, and the damp driftwood has become a merry fire.

A mage. A thought occurs to him: “Miss…Hawke? Can you heal?"

He sees blurred features turn in his direction. "A little. It’s not my specialty.”

“A little is better than what we have.” He locates Cooper, eyes half shut with misery and his face so red and tight he fancies he can feel the heat rolling off it. Crouching down, he asks his junior, “How do you feel?"

"Mmph.”

Behind him he hears the recruit gasp. “Oh my. Could someone fetch water? Salt water. We’ll need it boiled and cooled.” She kneels beside Alistair, and from the corner of his eye he spots an expanse of bared shoulder. Maker, couldn’t Stroud have found her a cloak? The girl must be freezing. All her attention, however, is on Cooper.

“Can you open your mouth?” The boy does his best, and she murmurs an apology as she shines the light of her staff close to his eyes. “This doesn’t look good. If we can extract the tooth, I should be able to draw out the infection. Do you have elfroot?"

"Only dried."

"That will have to do.”

Stroud has been rummaging in his pack; he pulls out a pair of metal pliers from a roll of tools.

“What do you keep that for?” asks Alistair.

“Extracting teeth.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Can we boil those in an elfroot solution?” asks the newcomer. “And then…gauze? Or linen?"

"Linen we can manage."

"Boil that too, then we’ll dry it over the fire.”

For someone who doesn’t specialise in healing, she’s astonishingly efficient. It makes Alistair wonder what her specialty is. Finally they’re able to wrench out Cooper’s rotten tooth - he makes a sound like a druffalo in labour - and staunch the bleeding with linen, while the mage puts a cooling hand to his cheek and settles the inflammation. By the end he’s fast asleep, and she’s drooping also.

“Thank the Maker you arrived when you did,” says Alistair. “We’d have been lost without you.”

Her silence makes him look up, finally, and his mouth grows dry. She’s tired, that much is obvious, and her recent ordeals show in the shadows beneath her eyes and in her hollow cheeks. But oh, she’s pretty, with her kind brown eyes, and the little flush of embarrassment when she realises the pause has become awkward.

“Sorry,” she says. “People aren’t usually that happy to see me.”

Alistair smiles. “Oh, I doubt that very much.”

Her eyes widen, and he curses himself. Fool, can’t you work within a league of a woman without…whatever it is you’re doing? “Are you hungry? We can’t offer much beyond hardtack, I’m afraid. Of course by much, I mean that’s all we have.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve been underground for a while now, I’ll eat anything.”

“Oh, of course. The Joining. Well, I wish we had more to offer. You must be starving…Hawke, is it?"

"Please call me Bethany,” she offers. “Hawke is what people call my sister…I can’t get used to it for myself.”

“Bethany,” he says, and her smile is like sunshine.

The morning breaks clear and cold. Alistair isn’t the first up; Lucien sits close by Gerod, restringing his longbow as the other man sands his breastplate. Outside the horizon is washed in the colour of straw, sunrise having passed while he slept.

He relieves himself against a rocky outcrop, realising too late that he’s not alone. Bethany Hawke sits on the shore. Her boots are tossed carelessly aside; her feet are buried in the sand. In the daylight he can see her hair is a dark brown, falling in waves over her bare shoulders.

“Sorry about that.”

“Please don’t be.” She glances up at him and he’s struck by the sadness behind her reluctant smile. She looks beyond tired; there are smudges of blue beneath her eyes and her skin retains a greyish tint. Her lips are chapped, her eyes red, and he thinks she just might be the most beautiful thing he’s seen since…well.

“We didn’t give you much chance to rest last night, did we?” He eases himself down next to her. “For someone who’s not a healer you were pretty impressive.”

Bethany ducks her head in embarrassment, tucking a dark lock behind her ear. “I have a friend who’s a healer; I suppose I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

“A thing or two? You saved a man’s life.”

“The Wardens saved mine.”

“I suppose we’re even, then.”

“No.” Bitterness doesn’t sit well on her; it seems to go against her very nature. “Because I can’t walk away now, can I?"

"I suppose not.” It was a hard thing to get used to, the taint crawling beneath your skin. “At least you’re not dying though, right?"

"Not as quickly.”

The weak sunshine held little warmth, but at least there was no threat of another deluge in the next while. Alistair pulled off his boots and damp socks, joining her in digging his toes into the sand. “You’re stuck with us, I’m afraid,” he said as lightly as he could. “At least you don’t need to worry about Templars any more.”

“I should be relieved, really.”

“But you’re not?"

"It turns out there are worse things than the Circle.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he says. “You can stay up as late as you like, and these new uniforms are quite nice. And the Satinalia party at Vigil’s Keep is something to see. There’s cake!"

He manages to get a huff of laughter from her, before a rogue wave creeps up and grabs at their toes.

"Maker’s breath, that’s freezing!"

"Where are we?” she asks with a little frown. “We went into the Deep Roads near Kirkwall, but this…somewhere near Cumberland? The sea is to the north…”

“We’re on the Storm Coast.”

“Ferelden?” She turns to him, mouth agape. “But the Deep Roads under the Waking Sea are meant to be sealed.”

“They are,” he says with a wink. “Completely impassable.”

“Ferelden,” she repeats. “Well, that's…”

“Have you been here before?"

"You could say that.” Her mouth twists. “I grew up here. We fled Lothering in the Blight.”

“Oh.” He remembers Lothering: the straggling rows of tents, the reek of desperation. “I was there just before the darkspawn hit. I don’t recall seeing you.” You only had eyes for one girl at that stage, you fool.

“You wouldn’t. I didn’t get out much.”

“No? Why - oh yes, that’s right. I was nearly a templar, you know? And I’m not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to tell you that.”

Fortunately she doesn’t seem to mind. “Was it the Blight that stopped you?"

"No. It’s a long story.”

Bethany stares out over the ocean, and he wonders who she left behind in the Free Marches. The thought comes with an unexpected pang of jealousy.

“I must report to Fontaine,” Stroud says over breakfast. His eyes dart to Bethany. “Strange things have been uncovered in the Deep Roads. Weisshaupt will wish to know. As to the details, your recruit can fill you in.”

“My -?” Alistair pauses with a strip of hardtack halfway to his mouth. “She won’t be going with you?"

"Ferelden is in need of Fereldan Wardens, is it not? And you have only one mage left, since Anders…” He glowers at the thought, for some reason looking again at Bethany. “Either way, we leave from here this morning. A group of Orlesians this side of the border could attract the wrong sort of attention. I take it you will make for Vigil’s Keep?"

"Soldiers Peak,” Alistair says, surprising himself. “It’s closer, and we need new kit. Wade might just cry if he has to make an ordinary recruit’s uniform; it’s a better job for the Drydens. Besides, we haven’t checked in there in a while.”

Stroud shrugs. “It’s your Warden-Commander who needs your justifications, not I.” He stands, nodding at Bethany. “Anders was right about you, Hawke. You will do well.”

Anders…? Alistair has never met the man, but he knows of Lyna’s displeasure after he vanished. This story gets more and more strange.

He takes a moment to introduce Bethany to the crew, such as they are. Cooper, whose grin is pained but grateful. Sharp, Ned from the Bannorn and Bones, hailing from amongst the surface dwellers outside Orzammar. Lucien and Gerod.

“They’re Orlesian,” he explains, “but we try to keep that quiet for Fereldan reasons.” The two men, always a single unit in Alistair’s mind, have been Grey Wardens longer than Alistair himself. It’s rumoured that Gerod turned down a sizeable promotion to join his companion in Ferelden; by all rights he should be in charge, but he seems content to swing his broadsword under Alistair’s command.

Gerod kisses Bethany’s hand in greeting. “Don’t worry,” Alistair tells the bemused recruit, “he did that to me when we met.”

“It’s lovely to meet you all,” she says, and blushes. “I mean…hello.”

“Manners never go astray, Mademoiselle Hawke,” Gerod reassures her.

“Oh. Bethany, please. Just call me Bethany.” And Alistair sees some of the tension leave her shoulders.

They make good progress; she keeps up without complaint, already looking less ashen than this morning. Maker, she must have been close to death; Lyna never looked so ill, even before her Joining.

Bethany doesn’t give much of herself away, which is hardly surprising for an apostate. But his men are not so churlish they can’t be won over by sweetness, and that she proves to have in spades. The bitterness of earlier has been stowed away somewhere deep, and he makes a note not to let it fester.

There’s something so soft about her, he can scarcely believe that she might be capable of defending herself. Until a stray band of darkspawn wander across their path and she obliterates them, a hard line to her mouth that speaks of a private vendetta.

“Well,” he says as she steps delicately over the corpses. “That was impressive.”

“I get by,” she says with a shrug. “You know, that was almost fun.”

When it comes time to make camp she seems lost, fidgeting with the scarf at her neck as she watches the men set out their bedrolls.

“You can sleep here,” he offers, indicating a space between him and the cliff face. “If you want. Or somewhere else.”

“Those would seem to be my options.” But she gives him a hesitant smile as she sets down her pack, and he feels the ground shift a little further from his feet.

“Are you the Alistair?” she asks. It sounds as if she’s been working up the courage, and he can’t summon up the annoyance he usually feels at the question.

“I don’t know about the Alistair, but I haven’t met another. Apparently there was a pot boy at the Gnawed Noble once called Alistair, but he died of the frost-cough.”

“Alistair…”

Privately he vows to annoy her more, if it means she’ll say his name like that. “Warden Alistair, veteran of the Blight, at your service.”

“Veteran,” she says, “but not Hero?"

"Oh no.” He threads his fingers together over his chest, looking up at the stars. “That title went to someone much more heroic.”

“But didn’t you fight the archdemon together?"

"She struck the killing blow. No point in having extra heroes around the place, it just complicates things.” Plus where people see a hero, they can too readily see a king. “It doesn’t bother me. You’ll meet her one day, it really does suit her.”

“Were you and she ever -” She claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m so sorry, that’s none of my business. Cooper said…Maker, Bethany, what’s wrong with you?"

"Cooper, huh? Remind me to pull out his tongue next time.” It hurts somehow less than before. Is that all it takes, after all this time? Distract myself with something shiny?

“I wasn’t really her type,” he says breezily. “Not red-headed enough. Too male.”

“Oh.” She thinks for a moment. “Someone once told me that men are only good for one thing; women are good for six.”

“Six?” His voice rises to a surprised squeak. “Which six?"

"I have no idea,” she says, and they break into muffled laughter.

“You’re full of surprises, Bethany Hawke.” He rolls to face her. “What took you into the Deep Roads?"

"Money,” she says bitterly. “And we found it. Well done, sister.”

“You know Anders?"

"He’s more Marian’s friend than mine. But that’s how it goes with Marian.” She seems to shake herself out of some unhappy place. “Do you know him?"

"Only by reputation.”

“Well,” she says, “it’s probably true.” She yawns, covering her mouth with the backs of her fingers. “Excuse me.”

“No, excuse me. I should let you rest.”

“Good night, Alistair.”

“Good night, Bethany.”

Bethany, he mouths in the darkness. Bethany. It’s foolish, but he likes the way it feels in his mouth. Lips pressed together, the little huff of air on the first syllable, the tip of his tongue between teeth, and ending with his mouth parted just slightly. It feels like a kiss: the good part, not the oh-dear-sorry-Alistair-this-was-a-mistake part. The part full of soft promise and yearning, and an end to loneliness.

Bethany.

Bethany, Bethany, Bethany.

@hermiowngranger

#are you happy now #I am crawling back under my bridge #see you in hell

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neuxue · 6 years

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 32

In which ghosts have funerals and Nynaeve plays detective.

Chapter 32: Rivers of Shadow

That’s a lovely chapter title. And interesting, if a little ominous, combined with the snake-and-wheel icon that’s basically shorthand for ‘this chapter has implications for the entire story and world’.

And we’re with Nynaeve. Standing on top of a wall. Not you, too, Nynaeve!

I’m not going to quote the whole thing but the opening description is very atmospheric and lovely.

She can still feel a storm in the north, only it’s not really a storm, it’s a metaphor, and when the wind starts blowing it’s also a metaphor, and actually it’s another point of parallel between her and Mat. Her weather-sense is quite a lot like his dice. Both basically just say ‘PLOT COMETH AHEAD’.

There would never again be a place for her in the Two Rivers. She knew this, though it hurt her. She was Aes Sedai now; it had become who she was, more important to her now than being Wisdom had once been.

That’s quite an admission from Nynaeve, Queen of Denial, Self-Deception and Malkier.

It’s also a nice continuation of her thoughts from way back in TFoH, when she and Elayne were on the wagon away from Tanchico and Nynaeve had a moment to think about what she wanted and who she was becoming. How this started out as her wanting to protect the people from her village, but then shifted more into a desire to learn how to Heal, and set her on the path towards becoming Aes Sedai – something she once utterly denied ever wanting to be, but has been becoming ever since.

And it’s one thing for Egwene to leave the Two Rivers behind; she wanted a bigger world, and while she’s occasionally expressed some nostalgia, she came of age elsewhere. The Two Rivers was a childhood home, but she is no longer a child, and her life has taken her beyond that village.

Nynaeve, though, came into adulthood in the Two Rivers. She was Wisdom; it was her place in the world, her identity, not just her childhood. And when she left, so much of that was taken from her, and so much of her journey since then has been about re-establishing who she is, both to herself and to those around her. She is no longer the Wisdom, but along the way she has gained wisdom.

And now, she’s almost finished with that journey. They all are. The time for character development is past; it’s time to take their places, as who they have become, for an ending.

That simple life – once all she had been able to imagine – would now seem dull and unfulfilling.

How far she has come, to be able to acknowledge that and admit it to herself without fighting it. She knows herself, now. She’s faced so many of her fears and insecurities – has actually faced one of her worst fears twice: once in her Accepted test and then again at World’s End – broken her block, become and embraced being Aes Sedai, and in the process she’s learned to accept and be herself. She’s still Nynaeve, so she’d still probably want to box your ears if you said that to her, but she can be so much more honest with herself now. She can see and understand things like this, even if it runs counter to who she once thought she was meant to be.

Have I mentioned that I love Nynaeve’s character arc?

The nearby fields were barren. Ploughed, seeded, yet still barren. Light! Why didn’t crops grow anymore? Where would they find food this winter?

I don’t know, maybe ask some Aiel to come sing to them? They might not mind a break from kidnapping rulers. Loial would probably join in.

So they’re up here to look at…ghosts?

Like a wisp of the ocean fog, a tiny patch of glowing light was blowing across the ground. It grew, bulging like a tiny storm cloud, glowing with a pearly light not unlike that of the clouds above. It resolved into the shape of a man, walking. Then that luminescent fog sprouted more figures. Within moments, an entire glowing procession strode across the ground, moving at a mournful pace. […] They were composed of a strange, otherworldly light. Several figures in the group – which was now about two hundred strong – were carrying a large object. Some kind of palanquin? Or…no. It was a coffin. Was this a funeral procession from long ago, then? What had happened to these people, and why had they been drawn back to the world of the living?

This is lovely. I didn’t mean to quote so much of it, but it’s just a very cool image. Soft and light and a little bit eerie and a little bit mournful but also strangely beautiful. Then again, Sanderson has practice at writing ghosts among mist…

I suppose it’s fitting that a ghostly funeral procession turned up the day after Rand did. The Pattern’s fraying, and right now he carries a feeling of darkness and death…and yet, this doesn’t seem dark in the same way. Sad, perhaps. Wistful. But it puts me in mind of the whole no beginnings or endings notion. This has been, and perhaps soon will be again, and the Wheel turns.

A guy turning to charcoal, on the other hand, is just fucking creepy.

But also kind of cool.

Mostly creepy, though.

“You’ve heard that he is proclaiming that the Last Battle will begin soon.” Nynaeve felt a stab of worry for Lan, then anger towards Rand. He still thought that if he could stage his assault at the same time as Lan’s attack on Tarwin’s Gap, he could confuse his enemies. Lan’s attack could very well be the beginning of the Last Battle.

Which seems very fitting, to me. Maybe it’s because Malkier feels almost like a prelude to Tarmon Gai’don, if you zoom out a little. Or maybe because of the parallels between Lan and Rand, and the way Lan feels like a…version of Rand on a smaller scale and different timeline. Tied to Malkier as Rand is tied to the land as a whole, an embodiment almost of a nation or world. Fated, or believing himself fated, to give his life to that cause.

And it would be fitting, too, for Lan’s personal war in the Blight to finally come to fulfilment not as a waste, not as a distraction from his and Moiraine’s and the world’s greater cause, but as the true beginning of its culmination. As if Lan has been held back until now, held back by other duties and other bonds but always looking northwards, until it becomes time for those things to intersect and so he is released.

Also it would be a fitting nod to part of Aragorn’s role in Return of the King, so there’s that.

“Yes,” Cadsuane said, musingly, “he is probably right.” Why did she keep that hood up? Rand obviously wasn’t around.

Because it adds to her aura of wisdom and mystery, obviously. She’s almost three hundred years old; she can do it for the aesthetic if she wants to.

The other Aes Sedai resumed their conversation, Merise and Corele taking further opportunity to voice their displeasure with Rand in their separate ways – one dour, the other congenial.

It made Nynaeve want to defend him.

Ah, Nynaeve. That’s just like her – she can chew out her people until the cows (sheep?) come home, but if someone else so much as looks at them crosswise, she will be boxing ears before you can say ‘hypocrite’. I love her.

And honestly, that’s not even a particularly unusual trait, as much as it’s fun to laugh about in Nynaeve. Anyone here have siblings? Yeah.

Nynaeve started to leave, and as she did so she noticed that Cadsuane was watching her. Nynaeve hesitated, turning toward the cloaked woman. Cadsuane’s face was barely visible by torchlight, but Nynaeve caught a grimace in the shadows, as if Cadsuane were displeased with Merise’s and Corele’s complaints. Nynaeve and Cadsuane stared at each other for a moment; then Cadsuane nodded curtly. The aged Aes Sedai turned and began to walk away, right in the middle of one of Merise’s tirades about Rand.

One of the subtle things I’ve enjoyed is watching the relationship between these two change, especially Cadsuane’s growing respect for Nynaeve. In Winter’s Heart, she thinks she will not acknowledge Nynaeve as Aes Sedai until Nynaeve has been tested and has held the Oath Rod. Then, in Crossroads of Twilight, we get this: The child would need to flash her Great Serpent ring under people’s noses to be taken for Aes Sedai, which she was, if just technically. It’s a small shift, but definitely a shift. And now this – a nod of seeming respect, of agreement, even, as if between equals or allies. It’s just one of those on-the-sidelines relationship shifts that can be fun to see in subtle snippets like these.

That nod of Cadsuane’s couldn’t possibly have been given out of respect. Cadsuane was far too self-righteous and arrogant for that.

Well, she’d hardly be the first Aes Sedai you’ve judged that way, Nynaeve. Moiraine?

What to do about Rand, then? He didn’t want Nynaeve’s help – or anyone’s help – but that was nothing new.

It’s hard, when there’s so much else at stake. Because it’s not just about him – it’s about the entire world.

And ‘I don’t want anyone’s help’ is fine when it’s, say, your maths homework. Or a struggle between friends that people keep meddling with. Or when work sucks and you’re tired and your flat’s a mess and you just want to not have to deal with any of it for a bit. But there’s a point where it stops being a thing people actually need to listen to – where help becomes necessary whether you want it or not – and I’m pretty sure that point is somewhere slightly before ‘I carry a nuke in my pocket just in case’.

Now, it’s also true that a lot of the people ostensibly trying to help Rand are actually just trying to push him in one direction or another, and are not in fact helping at all.

And there are others who are trying to help, but are going about it in a way that is absolutely not going to work.

And there are some who are perhaps trying to help him, but are mostly trying to help keep the world from breaking apart around him. That’s where it gets a bit…tricky.

But as threatening and as intimidating as Lan could be, he’d sooner chop off his own hand than raise it to harm her.

Too soon, Nynaeve. Too soon.

Rand. Once, she’d thought him as gentle as Lan.

Once, he was gentle. But then…*waves at entirety of series up to this point* thathappened.

That Rand was gone. Nynaeve saw again the moment when he had exiled Cadsuane. She’d believed that he wouldkill Cadsuane if he saw her face again, and thinking of the moment still gave her shivers. Surely it had been her imagination, but the room had seemed to darkendistinctly at that moment, as if a cloud had passed over the sun.

Yeah um…not just your imagination, sorry.

And this is where Nynaeve sees more than perhaps most of the people around Rand, including some of the other Aes Sedai. Cadsuane sees it as well, but the others, I think, don’t realise quite how significantly he’s changed. Nynaeve, though…she knew him when he was gentle. And she knew him when he was becoming the Dragon Reborn, Healed him when he said he wasn’t sure how human the Dragon Reborn could afford to be, stood by his side and protected him when she could, however she could. She can see that something has changed, that the boy she knew is…hopefully not gone forever but certainly on a very extended, forced holiday.

Still, she won’t turn away from him. Nynaeve doesn’t give up on people like that. And anything can be healed.

But first, a coughing child. I suppose it’s the sort of thing Rand might once have paid attention to – refugees and starving children – as he did in Tear with the two steamwagon boys for whom Min foresaw tragedy. Now, though, he can’t take the time or the energy to care. And so it falls to Nynaeve.

I suppose it’s a way to show her in a role that’s not actually unlike Wisdom. Just for the world in general and with greater power and knowledge. But that doesn’t mean she’s left this behind: her care for those who need help or Healing, her sense of responsibility for those who find themselves in her care or purview. And also her low tolerance for bullshit, as evidenced by her dealings with this kid’s father.

“He should live, if you do as I say. […] If the fever starts again, bring him to me at the Dragon’s palace.”

“Yes, my Lady,” the woman said as the husband knelt, taking the boy and smiling.

Nynaeve picked up her lantern and rose.

“Lady,” the woman said. “Thank you.”

Nynaeve turned back. “You should have brought him to me days ago. I don’t care what foolish superstitions people are spreading, the Aes Sedai are not your enemies. If you know any who are sick, encourage them to visit us.”

She’s still blunt and a bit abrasive, of course, but even so I think she’s just done more for the reputation of and sentiment towards Aes Sedai with one Healing than any of the others have in the city thus far.

Because, while she has become Aes Sedai, Nynaeve isn’t one to hold herself aloof and apart from the world, not when there are people who need her help or healing. She can’t help everyone – like Rand, she can’t solve everyone’s problems – but when she can, she’ll always try. She doesn’t ignore the refugees as not worth her time; she just tells them to bring their sick to her. Because they’re suffering, and she can help, so she will. She’s practical that way. Practical and caring – it was one of her early conflicts with Moiraine, that Moiraine could look away when people were suffering, in the name of a greater cause.

Both kinds of people are needed, and this helps highlight Nynaeve’s own strengths. She knows Tarmon Gai’don is coming, and is certainly focused on that, but she doesn’t let that stop her from taking the time to help a random child who needs it, because that’s who she is. She’s still Wisdom in many ways, just of more than Emond’s Field, and it doesn’t much matter to her if the people who need her help are refugees or royalty.

But I think it definitely surprises the family, to see an Aes Sedai so…human, I suppose. Human, and straightforward, and helping them while asking nothing in return except that they not keep anyone else who needs help away.

How did one handle a creature like the Dragon Reborn?

Ask Min. Or Elayne. Or Aviendha.

Look, it was just lying there…

Nynaeve knew that the old Rand was there, within him somewhere.

Oddly enough, she seems to be one of the every few to actually…see that. To remember that he’s human.

He had simply been beaten and kicked so many times that he’d gone into hiding, letting this harsher version rule.

He’s human, and he’s hurting, and he’s been hurting so much for so long. It’s amazing, in a way, that so few are able to understand that, seeing instead a monster or a legend or a weapon or an obstacle, but rarely seeing the broken, bleeding boy. Amazing, and yet at the same time not surprising at all. That’s how this works. And he’s done too good a job of pushing that humanity away – though it becomes a vicious cycle at some point; how long can you retain humanity when no one expects it of you?

It’s one of the most important things about Nynaeve, especially in terms of her role in Rand’s story: she doesn’t stop seeing that. She can see what he has become, can see what he’s done to himself, but she can also still see the boy from her village. And that’s no small thing. He needs that now as much as – perhaps more than – he ever has; he needs those anchor points, those people who know him and love him and see him, otherwise how could he find his way back even if he decided he wanted to? This at least gives him the choice. To know he is loved, to know he is seen, to know that he is still human in the eyes of those who know him.

As much as it galled her to admit it, bullying him was just not going to work. But how was she to get him to do what he should, since he was too bullheaded to respond to ordinary prodding?

Ah, Nynaeve. Bless her. *shakes head fondly*

It’s a good realisation, but I also like it because even her thinking here shows clearly that she’s seeing him like just another problem from her village, rather than as some cosmic gamepiece she needs to position and control. Yes, she’s trying to get him to ‘do what he should’, but it’s the sort of tone she might have used in thinking about how to get young Matrim Cauthon to milk his father’s cows when he’s supposed to.

So in that sense she’s not really…treating him any differently, just because he’s the Dragon Reborn and could incinerate her where she stands. And there’s great value in that – it’s honest, it’s straightforward, and it’s very much Nynaeve. This is just how she shows her love.

There was one person who hadmanaged to work with Rand while at the same time teaching and training him. It hadn’t been Cadsuane, nor had it been any of the Aes Sedai who tried to capture him, trick him or bully him. It had been Moiraine.

So much growth from Nynaeve, to be able to understand and acknowledge this.

Her grudge against or hatred for Moiraine is another thing I’ve enjoyed watching the progress of over time because it does what so many hate-at-first-sight reflexive yet largely irrational hatreds and grudges do in reality: it fades, gradually and often subtly, until it’s just not there anymore but you can’t put a finger on when exactly it vanished, or why. It just takes lesser and lesser importance in the face of other things, other points of focus.

Of course, her apparent death, and Nynaeve’s shame at her own response to it, certainly helped – I think that ‘death’ shifted the perception of her in the eyes of quite a lot of characters and even readers towards the more positive. Because memory turns to legend, and things are altered in that changing. It does set her up well for an eleventh-hour return.

But a lot of it is just that Nynaeve hated Moiraine because Moiraine represented the changes she resented – leaving Emond’s Field, the boys and Egwene changing and sometimes suffering, Nynaeve losing her sense of place and purpose and authority – more than because of Moiraine herself. And so as she’s grown – as she’s accepted some of those changes, and found a place in this larger world for herself, and learned to embrace her own power, and understood the necessity or inevitability of some of what has happened, and focused on her true passion for healing – that sharp hatred faded to wariness and then to something more like a stubborn and even petty attempt at holding on to that grudge, and eventually even that faded to…respect. Understanding, perhaps.

Well, Nynaeve wasn’t about to act the same way for Rand al’Thor, no matter how many fancy titles he had.

I’m not sure that method would work now, anyway. It worked for Moiraine because she understood what he needed and would accept and respond to at the time. When he was being pushed and chased and tormented into a power he feared, when he was fighting to prove his claim to a destiny he didn’t want, when he was unsure and afraid and trying desperately to mask it, fighting for control and authority and so, so afraid of being outplayed, taken, used by those who knew this game he was only beginning to understand but was thrown in the middle of.

That was a mindset in which he could accept some guidance and advice because on some level he could admit he very much needed it, so long as he could be sure it was free of manipulation – the thing he so greatly feared, because at the time he was far more susceptible to it, new as he was to the game and to power, and with barely even the Aiel at his back.

Now…subservience, obedience, obequieousness are commonplace to him. Aes Sedai have sworn fealty to him. He doesn’t fear manipulation as he once did, because the scales of power have shifted so drastically, and doesn’t acknowledge his need for advice the way he once might have. So it will have to be a different approach.

Perhaps Nynaeve is well-suited to that; perhaps meeting his eyes and letting the fact that he is the Dragon Reborn and could kill her on a whim just…pass her by, seeing him and treating him instead as human, is in itself a form of surrendering in order to control. Not fighting against what he is, yet also not being cowed by it; just letting it exist, and accepting it, and focusing on him instead of on that.

Maybe I’m forcing the metaphor too far. But it’s a nice metaphor, so…*shoves*

Or maybe the solution is just appearing to die in a way almost perfectly designed to fuck with the guy’s head, and then reappearing dramatically at an opportune moment.

She needed to show him that they were working for the same goals. She didn’t want to tell him what to do; she just wanted him to stop acting like a fool. And, beyond that, she just wanted him to be safe.

It’s that last part that makes her so different from the others she disdains as petty manipulators. The simple fact that she cares about him.

She’d also like him to be a leader that people respected, not one that people feared. He seemed incapable of seeing that the path he was on was that of a tyrant.

No, Nynaeve, he sees it. He just can’t bring himself to care. After all, what does a tyrant’s rule matter if it is destined to be short-lived?

(A somewhat related but largely tangential question: does anyone know if there’s any etymological link between ‘tyrant’ and Tyr, Norse god of justice/law/war who sacrificed his hand to bind a wolf? It feels like there shouldbe, though I can’t find anything that says so, but as I’m neither linguist nor Norse mythology/language/history expert, I’m really not qualified to answer.)

Anyway, Nynaeve, like Cadsuane, has a plan. Lots of mysterious plans showing up here recently. Knowing Sanderson, they’re likely to collide around the 85% mark somewhere.

Though I don’t know how much of the pacing he’s directly responsible for and how much of it would be contingent on whatever was already outlined, so who knows?

Nynaeve’s lantern cast strange shadows on the grass as its light shone through the trees trained and trimmed in the shapes of fanciful animals. The shadows moved in concert with her lantern, the phantom shapes lengthening and merging with the greater blackness of the night around her. Like rivers of shadow.

Subtle as a hammer. But it works, because it’s not meant to be subtle at this point. It’s meant to be a drumbeat that says Tarmon Gai’don, that doesn’t let you forget for a moment where we’re heading, because it’s close, now. It’s close, and it’s everywhere, and it’s inescapable.

There’s also a bit of a circling back to the opening of the chapter here, in the image of phantom shapes moving with her lantern – with the light – but merging with the darkness around as well…and a glowing funeral procession of the dead, a haunting yet beautiful reminder that the world is coming apart at the seams, as Light and Shadow take to the field.

The whitewashed walls were as immaculate here as they were in other sections of the mansion, but they were unornamented.

Not unlike— actually, no. I am not going to sit here and write a paragraph on the symbolism of undecorated walls. I am not. You can’t make me. I have dignity.

Turns out Nynaeve doesn’t need grey hair or an Aes Sedai face to get people to do as she tells them when she has her mind set on something. Especially when it relates in any way to helping or protecting her people. Which includes just about anyone she says it does.

Do they not know she’s Aes Sedai? Or is she ‘my Lady’ because she’s married to a king? Or is the hat she made fun of on that random worker actually a fedora?

Rand had determined that his hunt for the Domani king had hit a wall with the death of the messenger.

But you know how to deal with walls, Rand! Just climb on top of them and then fall off.

Nynaeve wasn’t so certain. There were others involved, and a few well-placed questions might be very illuminating.

Ah, so that’s the plan. Find out some information that will be useful to Rand – that he definitely wants – as a sort of…not peace offering exactly, but indication that she’s on his side and willing to help.

I’m not sure that’s really the secret to getting him to listen, but I suppose it can’t hurt.

…that’s probably a stupid thing to say, given, you know, everything about this book so far.

When in doubt, ask the housekeeper. And she’s seen the messenger, who definitely sounds beautiful enough to have come from Graendal. Probably the one we saw, briefly.

“Had one of the most beautiful faces I rightly think I’ve ever seen on a man.”

Unless of course he’s Galad.

“He was sent for questioning,” Nynaeve said shortly. “I have little time for foolishness, Loral. I am not here looking for evidence against your mistress, and I don’t really care what your loyalties are. There are much larger issues at stake. Answer my question.”

But what a different sort of not-caring it is than Rand’s. She’s direct and to the point, and not particularly delicate about it, and anything that isn’t relevant is not her concern because there are bigger issues…but it’s not an all-consuming attitude; it’s just pragmatism. It’s not nice, and she’s definitely using her power and position to intimidate and to get people to do what she wants, but she also has very clear, definite limits. And a clear, definite purpose. And also the capacity to feel emotion, which is probably a plus.

Excellent, looks like we’re in for some good old midnight skulduggery. Elayne would be so proud.

So would Cadsuane, probably, at how Nynaeve is handling this. But I’ll try not to let Nynaeve hear me say that.

True, Rand might grow angry at her for appropriating soldiers and stirring up trouble.

But Nynaeve is one of the very few people left who doesn’t fear his anger. She does a little, on something of an instinctive level where if he looks at her with the full force of his I-have-stared-into-the-True-Power-and-the-True-Power-stared-back act she’ll recoil, but it doesn’t…take. It doesn’t last. It’s not enough to make her turn away, or run. It’s unnerving, but there’s too much caring and concern and sheer stubbornness to her where he’s concerned for fear to truly take root.

Moiraine said something to this effect once, that he would need people around him who could face or quell his rages, who could, in essence, continue to look him in the eyes. She was talking to Egwene, but Nynaeve has taken on that role in many ways.

And I think it’s important that she’s there as someone who doesn’t love him the same way Min and Aviendha and Elayne do. It’s a different kind of love, a different kind of bond, and therefore a different kind of…anchor, or reminder.

Such a lovely evening stroll, through the rotting fish gut district to the prison.

She wished she had news from the White Tower.

Yeah, huh, it’s been a hot second since she’s actually heard anything from…anyone, really. It seems like Egwene could pay her a dream-visit, but I suppose Egwene has quite a lot of other things demanding her immediate focus, last we saw she was bleeding and about to be imprisoned, and I think she might not want to bring her problems to Nynaeve’s attention because she knows there’s nothing Nynaeve can do about it right now. There’s too much else that needs to be done, and all she can do is focus on her part of it, on doing what she can to heal the Tower.

Still, a brief message would be…far too much communication to expect, in this series.

Ha, a prison disguised as a chandlery. A place of walls and dark and cold, disguised as a place that sells candles for illumination. Cute.

Sanderson, we need to have a talk about your obsession with hawk-faced men. It’s gotten out of control. An intervention is required.

The writing here also feels much more Sanderson than some of the other parts have, but I don’t actually mind it as much because the shape of the characters and ideas feel mostly how they should. Maybe Nynaeve’s a little more direct in some of her thoughts, but it still feels like her, so it bothers me less that the phrasing is off. Sanderson said in his introduction that he wasn’t going to try to perfectly imitate Jordan’s style, and he hasn’t, and I can live with that because it’s certainly preferable to the alternative. It’s noticeable, but that’s okay. It’s only when the actual content – characterisation, particularly – feels wrong that it becomes frustrating.

But any good secret operation would have a working front.

Always another secret, right, Sanderson?

See, that’s the sort of line that definitely doesn’t feel like Jordan, but…oh well. It’s fine. It does the job. And this doesn’t feel like a scene where note-perfect prose is important, the way, say, The Last That Could Be Done was. And that, Sanderson got right. So I’ll take it.

(I may be less sanguine next time a Mat chapter rolls around, but again that’s because the changes start to actually interfere with the character and the story.)

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Pacing-wise, I suppose it’s about time this particular storyline was punctuated by a random fistfight. Not that I’m complaining about the fact that it’s been mostly talking and thinking since Chapter 22, because it’s deliciously painful talking and thinking, but sometimes you’ve just got to break some noses I guess.

“Which one do you think I should ungag,” she asked casually, “and which one should I kill?”

Okay she can be pretty terrifying when she wants to be. This almost reminds me of…Semirhage, actually, in that scene where she had Cabriana and her Warder held suspended in flows of Air much like Nynaeve has these two not-chandlers. I mean, that’s just about the only similarity, but it’s what came to mind.

Of course, she’s not going to kill either of them. They just don’t know that.

Which makes this interesting to compare to Rand; as a reader it’s incredibly obvious that there is a difference, because we can see their thoughts. But just as it seems many outside observers don’t fully realise just how far Rand has gone, it’s possible they also wouldn’t see as much of a difference between his threats and Nynaeve’s, here. So much is dependent on perception, and on what you know and don’t know.

But there is a difference, whether or not it’s clearly visible to an outside observer, and in this series that’s important. It’s important that Nynaeve does not intend to kill, here, and almost certainly would not even if it would make this task easier. It’s important that she’s doing this for a clear purpose, and for a cause she cares about. It’s important that she can feel.

Private jailers like these riled her anger.

Guess we know where she stands on the privatisation of prisons, then…

“I will do whatever you say! Please, don’t fill my stomach with insects! I haven’t done anything wrong, I promise you, I—”

She stuffed the gag of Air back in.

But you’re missing the best part, which is where you pause and then take the gag back out and he’s still talking, so it’s like pressing ‘mute’ off and on. Come on, if we’re doing a midnight prison raid there are tropes that must be observed!

[The other] looked sick, but he had probably already guessed that she’d want the dungeon. It was unlikely that an Aes Sedai would burst into the shop after midnight because she’d been sold a bad candle.

I mean, I wouldn’t put money on it. We’ve been taught well: Aes Sedai do the things they do for their own reasons.

A youth sat on the floor in front of him, and Nynaeve’s globe of light illuminated his face, a frightened Domani one with uncharacteristically light hair and hands spotted with burns.

“Now, that’s a chandler’s apprentice,” Triben said

Is he now? I feel like he wouldn’t be mentioned if he weren’t relevant – and I especially feel like he wouldn’t be mentioned in such a disarming, ‘nothing to see here’ way. I’ve read murder mysteries and whodunits. I know what I’m about.

She raised her globe of light and surveyed the cellar. The walls were stone, which made her feel much less nervous about the weight of the building above.

If you’d spent any time in the Tower recently, you might feel differently…

Or if you’ve spent any time with a mad Asha’man in the basement of a palace…

‘Hawk-faced’ count this chapter: 3. Sanderson. Please.

“Keys?” she asked.

Okay now I want a story about a wilder thief in one of the bigger cities whose main ‘trick’ is picking locks with weaves of Air.

And hello there, Lady Chadmar. Not enjoying your stay here, I see.

Nynaeve inhaled sharply at seeing how the woman was being treated. How could Rand allow this?

Because he dismissed her, and put her out of his mind completely. Because he can’t afford to care about her anymore, so she is none of his concern. Because nothing matters anymore, beside the Last Battle. If she lives, she lifes. If she dies, well, he’s already damned; what’s one more name?

Again, Semirhage was treated better. But that’s because Rand still cared, then.

“Now,” she said to the three, “I am going to ask some questions. You are going to answer. I’m not certain what I’m going to do with you yet, so realise it’s best to be veryhonest with me.”

Cadsuane really would be proud. She’s sticking to the truth here, but still conveying a…well, it’s more of a figs-and-mice kind of threat than anything else, really. And it’s certainly effective.

Nynaeve sighed. “Look,” she said to him. “I am Aes Sedai, and am bound by my word. If you tell me what I want to know, I will see that you are not suspected in the death. The Dragon doesn’t care about you three, otherwise you wouldn’t still be here”

But she also gives them this. She doesn’t sit there speculating on whether or not she could simply will their hearts to stop beating. She threatens them, yes. She’s harsh. But she also offers…fairness, amnesty, pardon. It’s a question of lines in the sand again, I suppose, in determining the relative morality of this compared to Rand, but it still seems to me there’s a very marked difference. One is bound, still, by her word and her station and her general sense of what is and is not acceptable. The other…isn’t. It’s a question of limits.

The interesting part, again, is in the difference or similarity of perception by those who don’t have the privileged access we do into Rand’s and Nynaeve’s heads. Do these jailers feel any less threatened by Nynaeve than they would by Rand? She seems to be more human, offering them a chance to leave with their names clear, and reassurances that she will hold to her word, but she’s also Aes Sedai, appearing at midnight. Would they see the darkness around Rand? Would they react differently? To what extent does it matter whether or not the person threatening you has limits, if you don’t know where those limits are?

It’s part of the whole thing that I find so interesting about outsider POV – a chance to see how these characters are perceived by someone who can’t see their thoughts, and therefore a glimpse at them from a different angle, which can sometimes reveal surprising things. And then its close cousin, the view of outsiders from within a known character’s mind, but in such a way as to make you wonder what exactly it is they’re seeing. To see that character in a different way even while you’re in their head, through the reactions of those around them.

It’s something Jordan was particularly good at, and it’s being done rather well in these recent chapters as well, with the change in Rand’s mindset, and the way it’s so clear in his POV but not necessarily to all of those around him. And here, to see complete outsiders react to Nynaeve in such a way that makes it clear they see her very differently than those of us who have been in her head since the first book.

Anyway, it’s something I always find intriguing. Perception is such a fun thing to play with, and you can do so much with it when you have these lovely long character arcs.

“If we talk, we go free?” the fat man said, eyeing her. “Your word?”

Nynaeve glanced about the tiny room with a dissatisfied eye. They had left Lady Chadmar in the dark, and the door was packed with cloth to muffle screams. The cell would be dark, stuffy and cramped. Men wo would work a place like this barely deserved life, let alone freedom.

But there was a much larger sickness to deal with. “Yes,” Nynaeve said, the word bitter in her mouth.

Because there are things she will not do. And things she needs more; things that matter more.

And I do think there’s a difference in how they see her to how they would see Rand, because they’re willing to ask for that promise, for her word, and to take her up on it.

So the jailer is holding firm to the story that the messenger just dropped dead one day. Some aspect of Compulsion, perhaps?

“The man remained for months in your possession, presumably healthy all that time. Then, the daybefore he is to be brought before the Dragon Reborn, he suddenly dies?”

Nynaeve, too, has read her murder mysteries.

“I don’t know how he did it, Lady. Burn me, but I don’t! It’s like some…force had ahold of his tongue. It was like he couldn’t talk. Even if he wanted to.”

Yeah there was definitely some element of Compulsion involved, at least in keeping the messenger from talking. I wonder what happens when you put a Forsaken’s Compulsion against a dark ta’veren’s pull?

I’m kind of surprised that, for all Nynaeve’s experience with Compulsion at Moghedien’s hands, she doesn’t seem to pick up on this.

But she can’t seem to get much else out of any of them, and like so many ideas that seem excellent around or just after midnight, this one is starting to lose its shine a little.

Aha!

As soon as Nynaeve began the Delving, Nynaeve froze. She had expected to find Milisair’s body taxed by exhaustion. She had expected to find disease, perhaps hunger.

She had not expected to find poison.

A slow poison administered in several doses through food. And who makes the food?

Any guesses?

Yes indeed, it’s the ‘chandler’s apprentice’. Well done, Nynaeve, you’ve solved the case!

Next (TGS ch 33) Previous (TGS ch 31)

#this chapter almost passes for light but only by comparison #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

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ass-sass-sin-archived-blog · 7 years

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Codex Prompts

11. Your OC’s description of their game’s events

Several sheets of parchment are found stuffed in Talon’s old desk, folded and starting to yellow with age. The writing is hurried, as though the author were trying to get the words down on the page before they could escape, even more so as it went on. Spelling mistakes litter the pages, dated 9:65 Dragon. (Under cut for length.)

Look. I ain’t no story teller. That’s Varric’s job. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all this shit, is that history gets rewritten to suit whoever damn well wants to be in charge. Or just conveniently forgotten entirely. I ain’t stupid, and everyone knew from the beginning that if that damn dwarf ever wrote a book on this shit, no one’s gonna believe it. I don’t care if no one reads this, or if you use it for fire kindling, but at least it’s out and written down. That is what matters. Maybe then I can process it. It feels like a lifetime ago and I guess in a way it is.

I woke up a prisoner, swords pointed at me, and with a killer headache. Kinda figured I got wasted and fucked up big time, which really wouldn’t have surprised me none. Nah, that ain’t it though. There were peace talks going on at the Conclave, Temple of Sacred Ashes. Mages and Templars trying to sort out their differences and stop the fucking war between them that caught up the rest of Southern Thedas in it. Turns out the entire thing went up in flames (figuratively I think, literally, it was an explosion) and that caused this giant hole in the sky that shat out demons everywhere. Tore a hole in the Veil. I wound up with this fucking glowing green mark on my hand (later we called it the Mark or the Anchor, why the Anchor, fuck if I know) and turns out that (surprise) this weird magicky shit can fix things.

Didn’t know that off the bat though. First day I was awake Cassandra took me to show me what happened, ended up meeting Solas and Varric along the way. Solas “had a feeling” the Mark could close the rift we were dealing with (Oh yeah, there were OTHER smaller holes in the sky that were also shitting demons everywhere, real fun time let me tell you- not) which surprise, it could. (Explanation later.) Also important note the Mark was trying to kill me because ~magic~.

Decide “oh, let’s use that to seal the Maker’s asshole (the Breach) that’s currently shitting demons everywhere even though you just woke up” which amazingly worked. Woke up, apparently in three days I went from being blamed for the Divine’s death (ok so just because I’ve killed a lot of people even prior to this doesn’t mean she was on my hit list, rude fucks) to being named the fucking Herald of Andraste. My name’s not Harold, it’s Talon. Which was bullshit and I knew it even then, but nooooo religious fanatics have decided that THAT was who pulled my dumb ass out of the Fade. Alrighty.

Cassandra Pentaghast and Leliana (later Divine Victoria) start the Inquisition again. I think they’re both insane, because they kept asking my help to run shit.

Anyways, there’s this issue with the mages rebelling against the Circles and the Templars basically had gone rogue. We needed help properly sealing the Maker’s asshole (because apparently the first time was only a temporary fix?) and oh yeah we were declared heretics by the Chantry. Apparently they only do that to organizations and not individuals, because I’m surprised they took so long declaring me one. Whatever.

Asked the mages for help. Decided to power up the Mark and see what happened. Little catch though, turns out that Venatori (Vint cultists) “took in” the rebel mages. Long story short there, head Venatori dude threw me and Dorian Pavus (really awesome guy) a year forward into time, we got back to regular time, and kicked his ass and sealed the Breach. Don’t ask details, I don’t fucking know. I’m no mage.

Apparently that pissed off the darkspawn wanna be god named Corypheus who was the mastermind behind the Conclave explosion (if you could call him a mastermind). He and the Templars and Venatori attacked Haven and caught us by surprise, the others got out while I dumped a mountain of snow on them, apparently everyone thought I died. Surprise motherfuckers, I didn’t.

Find Skyhold because Solas used his super elfy senses to find the place (for real though, Skyhold’s a pretty great place, well defendable and it’s a fucking castle), set up base camp there and get ourselves situated. Save Crestwood from undead (almost as bad as darkspawn I’m telling you), meet more awesome people, blah blah blah, Inquisitor to the rescue again. Oh yeah, I got named Inquisitor, that was not fun. You’d have thought we talked about that before, but nah man. Guess not. “Surprise, you have two titles and no last name, congrats” ok then.

Met Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall. Awesome guy, great drinking buddy. Wardens are disappearing, followed that trail to Adamant Fortress. Turns out Corypheus was manipulating the Calling and freaking them all out and somehow that translated into “let’s make a demon army with blood magic”. And I thought I made bad decisions. Kicked ass, stopped the ritual, fell into the Fade. Again.

Going into the Fade isn’t fun, don’t do it. 0/10, would not recommend. Find out the old Divine, Divine Justinia saved me not Andraste (surprise everyone, I was right it wasn’t Andraste) and the Wardens were using her as a sacrifice or something so Corypheus could enter the Black City and claim godhood. Dude’s seriously delusional. Warden Stroud stayed behind to hold off the demons letting us escape at the end of it all.

Other note, formalities suck ass, parties more, and Orlesians the most. Usually Josephine Montilyet is the one who dealt with that shit (especially after I told someone apparently important to go fuck a nug) but no, gotta have the Inquisitor at the parties. Oh yeah, Orlais was also in a civil war because Gaspard wanted Celene’s throne. Slimy bastard. Anyways turns out there was an assassin in the group ready to dispose of Celene, turned out that assassin was Florienne her cousin. Fun shit, seriously. Assassins, that I can do.

Blah blah blah, sealing rifts, going dragon hunting, helping the little people and flipping off nobles, same shit different day. Good times, kinda.

Elfy things. Always with the fucking elfy things. I like elves more than the next guy probably, but damn. So much elf shit to sort through. Turns out Fuckface Mcgee (that’s Corypheus, keep up) is wanting some shit at an old elfy place. Alright, cool. Wind up in the Arbor Wilds, searching for the Temple of Mythal. Also something something red lyrium is bad shit, don’t do it. Anyways, wind up there, run into some old ass elves. Kick ass together, had to drink the Well of Sorrows or Corypheus gets his hands on it. Apparently this holds a shit ton of old elven knowledge collected over the years and drinking binds you to their god Mythal who’s seen as a protector. I wasn’t touching that shit thanks, pushed Morrigan in since she was so eager.

Not entirely sure what all Morrigan learned, not sure I wanna know honestly. Anyways she learned how to turn into a dragon and is now bound to her mother (Who’s kinda Mythal? Don’t ask I don’t really know.). I want to be a dragon damnit.

Get dragged back down south to the Frostback Basin. Apparently the last Inquisitor’s last known location was there and we get to go searching for him. It seemed like it could be useful and fun. It wasn’t fun. Meet friendly Avvar who were really nice, allied with them, turns out there’s this fortress with a gate encased in impenetrable ice. Still wondering how they got supplies in and out of there really, never did sort that out. Took care of that with some really awesome ancient Tevene tech that I wanna poke at more, and apparently Inquisitor Ameridan is

1. An elf2. Had set out to slay Hakkon.

Guess what Hakkon is. A god. Specifically, a dragon-god. Got the whole “by the way, I barely was able to contain him with my magic you can do the honors because I was too weak have fun” speech before Ameridan died. Did that. Went to the Deep Roads.

The Deep Roads fucking SUCK. I am from Ferelden, I lived there through the Blight, my hometown was destroyed during it, I’ve seen more than my share of fucking darkspawn by the time I was 10. No thanks. Met Shaper Valta who’s really smart and the Legion of the Dead, we kept going deeper and deeper into the Deep Roads dealing with darkspawn. Yuck. Turns out the earthquakes jeopardizing the lyrium mines (which is why we were called, to secure this) was being caused by a Titan. Who woke up or whatever it is they do. Surprise, lyirum is Titan blood and this thing’s attacking us and shit and gotta kill it. Alrighty. Did that.

Kicked Corypheus’s ass. Soundly. We’ve defeated an actual god and not a raving lunatic, a Titan, and a shit ton of dragons. This shit was in a bag. Problem solved. Except not.

Fast forward 2 years, no one’s happy with us. Ferelden wants us disbanded, Orlais wants us to be “honor guard of the Divine” who ended up being our old spymaster Leliana. Told them to go fuck themselves. Uncover a Qunari plot to blow up the whole Winter Palace, deal with that and another dragon. Run into Solas who disappeared after the battle with Corypheus. Turns out he gave the orb to him because ~reasons~, elven gods are all assholes, and oh yeah got to go into the Crossroads (which is like a really weird world between worlds?) and yeah. Solas is also apparently the elven god Fen’harel. Surprise. Lost my arm because the mark was trying to murder my ass again, and from what I’ve been told I stormed into the Exalted Council, threw the book at the Orlesian rep’s face (with surprising accuracy considering how wasted I was) and told them I’m disbanding the Inquisition and they can all go fuck themselves.

Best drunk decision ever.

And that’s the jist of what happened with the Inquisition.

#fxdctouchcd #this got so long #omg #A+ scholarly material right there lmao #please imagine this being used as historical documents by historians and in classrooms in the modern age

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sappho-official · 7 years

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hi i hope its not too much trouble to ask you but i've noticed you reblogged da:i in the past and i just got the game so i was wondering if you have any advice for a beginner? like any helpful tips or tricks will do. (sorry in advance)

Yeah sure! Don’t apologize, I love Dragon Age, so I’m happy to talk about it, as evidenced by how freaking long this got.

I wasn’t sure if you wanted combat or story advice, so like here’s both (I threw lore and combat under the cut because that got LONG), and also I sort of assumed you hadn’t played any other Dragon Age games before by the phrasing in the question (sorry if you have lmao).

When picking between the three dialogue options that don’t have emotion indicators, what they actually are is basically:

Top: Passive and placating, traditionally the most friendly answer. Often wins you over allies in political stuff, and it’s usually the most emotionally-conscious option. Some characters may feel like you’re being too passive, Sera tends not to enjoy this one, for example, whereas Cole tends to. (these are, ofc, situational)

Middle: Witty and curious, most likely to be humorous. May occasionally allow you to ask extra questions as well. A lot of companions tend to approve of this one, though characters like Cassandra may sometimes feel like you’re making a poorly timed joke. Sass the villains! It’s my favorite.

Bottom: Aggressive and direct, a bit more likely to make people mad at you, though that depends on the person. Maybe not the option to pick while trying to comfort someone. Still, being direct is a pretty good trait for a leader to have. Characters like Sera, Cassandra, and Bull really enjoy this one.

(Dragon Age 2 had the personality feature, and each of these options were actually labeled and would affect what your character said even when you weren’t controlling them. It seems like DA:I was supposed to have this feature, but was cut at some point)

The Star option (top left) is the “you did a sidequest/said a special thing!” option that opens up some extra stuff. If it’s an option, I’d usually take it. Sometimes there’s another icon, based on your race/class and other stuff as well, usually fun to take because it’s more unique to your character.

Far left [investigate] lets you ask questions. Do this before picking anything else. Some characters (Solas and Varric) really like when you ask questions.

When it comes to picking a character I’ll tell you quite honestly that playing as a Human (especially mage) or Elf will often give you the most story stuff. Qunari are also pretty rad, but playing as a Dwarf gives you very little story stuff unfortunately. Makes me sad, I like Dwarves.

You’re gonna probably want the Trespasser DLC if you finish the game. It’s $15. You need it to finish the plot+get the lead in to DA4 whenever that’ll happen. Sorry.

The power feature is a load of Bullshit and honestly a feature I don’t enjoy. Basically, just go play sidequests that sound cool! Don’t worry about spending power to unlock new areas, there’s so much fun shit there I promise. Some side quests can be tedious, but each area (except the Hinterlands) has a main quest line. That’ll be the quest that Scout Harding assigns you when you first arrive in an area, and I promise that most of them are really neat. I especially recommend the Crestwood and Hissing Wastes questlines, but the Western Approach is actually my favorite area in the entire game.

DA:I is a bit tedious, but a game that I think is best enjoyed if you take your time. It makes it feel like you should rush the main questline, but seriously, don’t. The main quest of DA:I is...honestly kind of crappy imo. It’s just a bit generic. Now, the DLC plots? those are awesome.

Some quests will lead you into like, dungeon areas. These are always dope, and often a bit more difficult, so bring lots of health regen potions with you. Some of them are unlocked by doing war table missions, so keep an eye out for stuff that’s like, related to Elven history, since that’s usually where those start. A bunch of them have neat loot at the end! And bring Solas to the Elven ruins, he’ll have some comments. Sera will complain the entire time, which can be funny as well. I like those two a lot tho.

Also don’t spend too much time in the Hinterlands at a low level. It’s massive and you’ll wander into an area that’s for a way higher level. Go mess around on the Storm Coast and Fallow Mire early on. tbh the only reason the Hinterlands is so big is because they wanted to be like “look!! we made an area larger than the past two games combined!!! aren’t we great!!!!!” no bioware, I just got killed by 6 bears at level 2. fuck off. It’s pretty though.

Pay close attention to the War Table stuff, especially the stuff that revolves around your character’s family/friends. I won’t spoil it, but if you play as an elf you can, uh, fuck that up real bad.

Don’t worry about collecting Shards or Mosaic pieces or whatever. Seriously, there’s no point in doing it (I say this as someone who’s like 99%ed this game okay, it’s a waste of time unless you really really want to)

Dorian and Iron Bull can get together if you don’t romance either of them. You’ll need to have them in your party a lot though, because party banter (the conversations your companions have out in the field every 12-17 minutes) is what triggers their romance. If you really want to get them together, just put them in your party and leave the game running.

You don’t have to read every single codex entry, but I would recommend picking them up because it’ll give you experience I think. And it’ll give you stuff to read during loads. And like, during the plot heavy stuff, sometimes there’s neat shit? I like worldbuilding tho. The stuff in the Fade and the Temple of Mythal is the most interesting, I think.

It’s kind of difficult to know how your approval is with companions, but it is evidenced by what they say when you talk to them. If you’re really worried about what a character thinks of you, go take a glance at the Approval part of their wiki page (don’t read the other stuff!!) and it’ll help you figure it out. Certain characters have approvals that are easier to get up than others. (take Iron Bull to kill a dragon, take Varric to destroy red Lyrium, basically do their quests while they are in your party)

Lore and Combat are under the cut.

If you don’t know much about the setting I’d recommend checking the Dragon Age Keep, which lets you change what happened in previous games, and then have someone read it back to you! Full of spoilers for the other two games though, sorry. There’s a few decisions that effect DA:I (Morrigan’s dark ritual, who’s in charge of Ferelden, who tf is Hawke) but over all most of them won’t make any major changes (with the exception of Morrigan’s dark ritual from DA:O).

Steer clear of the wiki, seriously it spoiled a MAJOR thing for me. Also maybe don’t go hunting through my dragon age tags..........uh. There’s spoilers.

Basic Lore:

(some of this is technically wrong, but this is what your average player would know going into DA:I)

The Chantry (the catholic church), and they worship the Maker (god) and his wife Andraste (Jesus+Joanne of Arc) a mortal woman who raised a slave rebellion in Tevinter and was burned at the stake as a result. The Southern Chantry is headed by the Divine (the Pope), presently Divine Justinia. Cassandra and Leliana are her bodyguard and spymaster, respectively. (I say Southern Chantry, because the Tevinter Chantry has a different mentality on a lot of this. Go talk to Dorian about it when you meet him.)

The Southern Chantry preaches that the power of Mages is dangerous, so they should be confined to Circles, where they can study and also not fuck up the world. The Chantry employs Templars (think Paladins) to keep the mages in line. Templars take stuff called Lyrium to give them magic-suppressing powers. Talk to Cassandra and Cullen about Templars. Lyrium is mined up by dwarves, and it’s very dangerous when raw, just not as dangerous to dwarves. Lyrium can also be corrupted into Red Lyrium, which is Really Bad News and makes shit float and makes you go all kinds of loopy and also want to eat it? Bad stuff. Varric really hates it.

Mages get their power from the Fade, which is the dream world. Dreamers are especially powerful mages who have control over dreams. In the Fade there’s The Black City, which is supposedly where the Maker rules from. In the Fade there’s Demons, who can possess you, which mages are more susceptible to, and are all around bad news. There’s also spirits, and if you want to know about them go talk to Solas and Cole.

A bunch of old Tevinter Magisters (Roman Senators but mages and worshipped dragons) a longass time ago decided that the best way to get more powerful was to enter the fade themselves and go to the Black City. As the story goes, the Maker got pissed at them and sent them back to Thedas (earth) with The Blight (kind of like a zombie curse?) which is really bad news. So what was basically the zombie apocalypse (well they’re technically Darkspawn) started, causing the Wardens to be created. Wardens are sort-of blighted destroyers of the Blight. They shoved them into the Deep Roads, which is where the Dwarves live, so the Dwarves have been sectioning off areas to live in that are safe. Ferelden (the country where you are) recently got over the Fifth Blight (DA:O’s plot). Blights happen when one of those big ol dragon fellows (Old Gods technically) meet up with a bunch of Darkspawn and decide to terrorize the surface.

At the end of Dragon Age 2, the Mages started up a rebellion because they were basically being imprisoned. The Templars got mad and fought back, and succeeded from the Chantry, starting the Mage and Templar war. The title screen is the Conclave (peace conference run by Divine Justinia), at the Temple of Sacred Ashes (where Andraste’s ashes once were). Your character is attending the Conclave.

There’s also a civil war in Orlais between Grand Duke Gaspard and Empress Celene. Also, there’s this lady named Flemmeth, or Asha’Bellanar, who’s a major figure in Elven mythos and can turn into a dragon. She’s Morrigan’s mom and shows up in every game and is sort of immortal.

Combat Basics:

When it comes to combat, I think DA:I has the easiest but least intuitive combat system out of all of the Dragon Age games (there’s a casual mode and don’t worry about starting out with that mode if you haven’t played any Dragon Age games before).

Early on it’s totally a great idea to try out switching between different characters to see which class fits your playstyle best (I think that rogue archer is the simplest for a beginner), and if you want to recreate your character early on that’s totally rad (it took me three tries to realize that I really love 2 handed warriors the best, for example). Basically, here’s a breakdown of playstyles:

Warrior, sword+shield: melee tank, not built for damage. Best with the Champion (Blackwall) or Templar (Cassandra) specializations. One of the better AIs, so don’t worry about switching onto your tank as much. Would recommend having one of them in the party at all times tbh.

Warrior, two handed: melee AOE, built for damage. Basically just stick your two-hander in the center of everything and they’ll kill a bunch of people. Not as good against single-enemy fights (like dragons). Best with the Reaver (Iron Bull) or Champion (Blackwall) specializations.

Rogue, Dual Dagger: melee critical-based, does the most damage out of any build but fairly easy to kill as a result. Good with any of the rogue specializations, but really really good with Assassin (Cole).

Rogue, Archer: ranged damage, does the most ranged damage. Big bonus is the fact that you can move while attacking, which mages cannot do. Leave Varric as an archer, and upgrade Bianca a lot and he’ll become pretty strong! Sera also makes a pretty good archer, but she does pretty well as dual-dagger as well. Good with Artificer and Tempest specializations.

(you don’t get specializations until level 10, at which point you’ll get to pick your own for your character! Lot’s of fun ones, I recommend Reaver, Assassin, Tempest, and Rift Mage as my favorites to play, but just go with what sounds cool/fits the character tbh. Necromancy is a bit glitchy, just a heads up. Also you might need a guide for the quest, depending on which specialization you pick it can be a pain in the ass to figure out)

Mages have a lot more variety to them, and I recommend picking two trees for each mage (+their specialization once you get there). I personally go for Spirit+one type of damage for each one, and it doesn’t matter which type of damage you go for for each mage, since their specializations don’t change a ton of their playstyle. I would recommend having at least one Winter mage and one Inferno mage, so that you can fight dragons/tough enemies with the opposite type of element (there’s no Spirit dragons, and Storm is the least useful against big enemies anyways.)

Spirit: The most useful skill tree in the game, I promise. Barrier, dispel, and whatever the resurrection spell is are some of the most useful spells in the entire game. Also, dispel can be used when a rift is about to spit out more demons and like, you can see the lil circle-y bits on the ground, you just cast dispel on one of those spots and boom, the demon won’t show up! The AI for spirit mage is pretty alright I guess, I usually switch onto my main spirit mage during big difficult fights (dragons especially, dragons are Tough), but honestly I don’t enjoy constantly having to pause to cast barriers so I don’t play it myself.

Winter: CC, does the least amount of damage but the slows/freezes are So Fucking Useful, I swear. If you’ve got a pretty heavy damage team, Winter is great for a purely support mage. I basically build my favorite mage (Solas) to be Winter+Spirit, which is the best combo for playing what is basically just a healer that does very little damage. Also has the fantastic spell, Fade Step, which allows a mage to FWOOOSH across the battlefield to get out of trouble. If your mage is taking a lot of hits, switch onto them and move them out of the way with this.

Inferno: DOT, some AOE. I think Inferno and Storm are sort of tied for damage, but Inferno does more damage to individual enemies. Can also terrify enemies, which is a little bit annoying if you’re playing as a melee character. Just mostly damage, all around pretty solid. Makes my PS4 lag a bit when the entire screen is on fire.

Storm: AOE mostly, can also shock enemies. Basically allows you to chain attacks between multiple enemies. Super neat but my least used mage tree tbh? Not sure why. Does damage, not as useful against big enemies (especially dragons. I feel like I talk about dragons a lot, but there’s like, 12 dragons in the entire game? I just liked fighting them bc A. it’s Dragon Age and B. my character literally drank dragon blood okay, it was sort of badass and C. I like dragons)

I would have to look at my old skill-trees if you want advice on which kits work best together, I couldn’t tell you off the top of my head.

When it comes to building a balanced team, my go-to is:

One Sword-and-Shield Warrior

One Two-Handed Warrior or Dagger Rogue

One Archer Rogue or Damage-y Mage

One Support Mage

So like, pick some favs and build them to fit into that pretty much. Mix up your party though! Some characters, like Sera and Solas, have strange perspectives that can be hard to understand at first, but are really interesting once you get to know them, so stick them in your party!

And I think that’s it? I’m sure I’ve got tons more advice I could share with you (I’ve introduced a few people to the series now so this is almost all stuff I’ve already told them) but this is already like a bajillion words. Also I have to do homework still. whoops?

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age inquisition guide #long post #why did i write so much i still need to finish these storyboards tf am i doing with my life #i just love dragon age so much you guys......#wordbarf #cyekic

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neuxue · 7 years

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 13

Gawyn is, as usual, frustrating, but does actually make a decision. Also there are Aragorn gifs and a few random tangents.

Chapter 13: An Offer and a Departure

‘Departure’ in the title of a Gawyn chapter seems at least moderately promising. Maybe he’ll finally get his shit together and get out of this godforsaken town.

…I have higher hopes for the latter than the former.

Two sparring opponents? You’re going to have to step it up, Gawyn; I hear the Dragon Reborn can take on five.

Could, anyway. Might be a bit more challenging singlehanded.

Though he can also take on a good-sized army, if he’s carrying the right not-a-sword, so there’s that.

Hattori had been quite pleased when her Warder had finally arrived at Dorlan; she’d lost him at Dumai’s Wells, and his story was the sort gleemen and bards sang about. Sleete had lain wounded for hours before deliriously managing to grab his horse’s reins and pull himself into the saddle. It had loyally carried him, near unconsious, for hours before arriving at a nearby village.

So…

The rest of his story fully embraces the cliché – and by ‘embraces’ I mean ‘makes sloppy but passionate love to’ – because I think all the Warders have a secret competition going to out-do Lan’s story. This, of course, is the real reason Lan decided to ride for Tarwin’s Gap.

It was the marrow of stories and legends – at least, among regular, lesser men. For a Warder, Sleete’s story was almost commonplace. Men like him attracted legends as ordinary men attracted fleas. […] Surviving against the odds, riding in delirium over miles of rough terrain, cutting down an entire band of thieves with wounds not fully healed –

Gaining a name amongst the Aiel, riding to avenge or resurrect a fallen nation…

–these were just the sorts of things you did when you were a Warder.

And then there’s Birgitte. Also Rand, technically speaking.

While Aes Sedai manipulated the world and monsters like al’Thor got the glory, men like Sleete quietly did the work of heroes, each and every day. Without glory or recognition.

Well, except that al’Thor the monster is giving everything he has and tearing himself apart to save a world that hates and fears him. So I would say that qualifies, in its own way, as ‘without recognition’. Of course, Gawyn doesn’t recognise this, which makes the whole thing spectacularly ironic.

And ‘glory’? You saw Rand at Dumai’s Wells, Gawyn. You saw him tortured. Did that look like glory?

It’s not surprising, though, that this idea of unrecognised heroics is what Gawyn’s thoughts are drawn to. After all, he was raised in the shadow of a golden older brother and a sister destined for a crown, and taught that his life is merely a shield for hers. He was meant to be the unsung hero – and now even that seems lost to him.

So I think he idolises the Warders in part because he sees in them what he has always felt he is supposed to be.

Except he sees an idealised version, and holding yourself to impossible standards always ends well. Especially if it coincides with the world falling apart.

The actual swordfighting scene is less enthralling than some. It’s probably a combination of the fact that it’s a relatively low-stakes spar, and also it involves characters I’m not all that invested in.

Gawyn wins. Sleet and Marlesh are surprised. I halfheartedly applaud, once. In my head.

Sleete carried a heron-mark blade and was near-legendary in the White Tower for his prowess. He was said to have bested even Lan Mandragoran twice out of seven bouts

One: I love how Lan is used by pretty much everyone as the standard of excellence. Kind of like how it was mentioned a while back that everyone says their city was even more beautiful than Tar Valon, thus cementing Tar Valon’s actual superiority in that regard.

And two: if you’re trying to convince me that Gawyn is now a better swordsman than Lan Mandragoran, I call bullshit.

back when Mandragoran had been known to spar with other Warders.

This is perfect.

Really, I’m sitting here laughing at just…everything about that phrase, including the way it’s tossed in almost as an afterthought. Back when Lan used to spar with mere enhanced badass mortals. Beautiful.

So there are two possible ways this came about. Either the other Warders decided to stop inviting him to practice – because there’s sparring against a more skilled opponent in order to improve, and then there’s sparring against Lan Mandragoran for the sole purpose of destroying your own ego – or Lan himself decided that there was just no point. Probably the latter, but some of the other Warders were probably relieved.

Meanwhile Lan’s riding off to the Blight to finally find himself a challenge. I mean, really. What does a guy have to do around here to get a proper workout?

(Though he did spar with Narishma. And Rand, obviously. So maybe he makes an exception for sad boys who came into too much power far too quickly and without enough certainty).

Anyway, I’m still laughing at everything about this.

All Gawyn had ever wanted was to protect Elayne. He wanted to defend Andor. Maybe learn to be a little more like Galad.

Why couldn’t life be as simple as a sword match? Opponents clear and arranged before you. The prize obvious: survival.

Well, there’s Gawyn for you.

This really does make up the core of a lot of his problems, though. He was raised with a strong but fairly simple mandate: protect Elayne, and protect Andor. But then what do you do when Elayne is missing, or when Andor’s queen is missing presumed dead? (If you’re Galad, you start a war to help Elayne and then go kill the Lord Captain Commander of the Whitecloaks to avenge the queen, but that’s somewhat beside the point).

Added to that is Gawyn’s constant feeling of not being quite good enough. So when everything goes to shit and there isn’t a clear path that involves ‘protect Elayne’ or ‘defend Andor’, he..wants or even needs to act, but almost doesn’t trust himself to know what to do. And then it’s not as simple as he thought it would be, or wants it to be, and he really doesn’t know what to do, because this is not how his story was supposed to go. And then he ends up caught in these situations where he’s tangled up in greater powers, in over his head, competent in his assigned role but not quite confident enough to leave it.

Also perhaps the ‘opponents clear and arranged before you’ is part of why he can’t look at Rand as anything but his enemy. He wants these certainties, wants things to be simple and clear-cut, and so he subconsciously could end up focusing on and believing the negative things he hears about the Dragon Reborn, because that is far simpler and easier to wrap his mind around than the alternative.

But in general, this is not a good time for wanting things to be simple and clear-cut and nicely laid out like a storybook hero’s plot. Sorry, Gawyn. You’re shit out of luck there.

Having just said that…it’s as if he wants his life to be – or thinks his life to be – something like Sleete’s story from a few pages ago. He idolises and idealises that, and when it isn’t like that for him, he thinks he’s failed somehow, and also doesn’t really know how to deal with everything when it doesn’t follow that kind of familiar pattern.

“You are remarkable, Gawyn Trakand. Like a creature of light, colour and shadow when you move. I feel like a babe holding a stick when I face you.”

I did try not to roll my eyes.

Okay, I confess, I didn’t try very hard.

I think that, weirdly, I almost have less patience for Gawyn when he’s being presented as a badass than when he’s trying to be one because he’s expected to be. Which is odd, because that is not how it normally works for me.

Or maybe it’s just that my patience for Gawyn has worn a bit thin recently in general; I still find him an interesting character in terms of how his arc has been constructed, but he’s been stuck in the same place for a while now. He also, by virtue of no longer being just in the prologues and maybe the occasional chapter, is narratively surrounded by characters who are getting a lot more done, literally and figuratively, so that also may have something to do with it.

I still can’t stand the word ‘Younglings’. I blame Star Wars, maybe.

Except no, I definitely disliked it even before that. You know how some people feel about the word ‘moist’? That’s how I feel about ‘younglings’. It’s a thing, and it bothers me every single time. I vote Gawyn kills them all.

It’s like when an otherwise really cool character just has the worst name and it detracts from their coolness even if you don’t want it to. I genuinely think this is a major part of the reason I never liked The Hobbit as much as I probably should have. Bilbo. I just can’t. I know, I know, it’s the stupidest thing to get hung up on, but there you have it. (Of course, when I was younger I went the exact opposite direction, and gave all my fictional characters the most ridiculously overwrought names, thinking they were awesome and beautiful when in fact they were incredibly cringeworthy. So what can you do).

Anyway, back to Gawyn.

Marlesh thinks he should be a blademaster, Gawyn’s like ‘oh no I couldn’t possiby’, and Marlesh confirms that by killing his teacher, Gawyn does in fact get to claim that title. So, you know, perks.

Gawyn had rarely seen an Aes Sedai and Warder with as casual a relationship as those two.

This strikes me as odd. I guess it depends what is meant by ‘casual’ here, but they come across as having a kind of lighthearted friends/siblings sort of relationship, which doesn’t seem like it should be that far from ordinary. It does sometimes seem as if there’s a slight discrepancy between how Aes Sedai-Warder relationships or dynamics are described in a general sense, and how they’re shown in a specific sense. But maybe that’s simply a result of the specific characters we’re following.

“Those two remind me of nothing so much as a brother and sister at times.”

Okay, yeah, I really don’t see why that should come across as uncommon. If romantic relationships between an Aes Sedai and Warder are uncommon – as is said to be the case – then surely a sibling or close friend dynamic would be well within the norm.

As Sanderson’s characters would say, bah.

“Hattori only has one Warder,” [Sleete] said in his gravelly, soft voice. Gawyn nodded. “That’s not unheard-of for a Green.”

“It isn’t because she isn’t open to having more,” Sleete said. “Years ago, when she bonded me, she said that she would only take another if I judged him worthy. She asked me to search. She doesn’t think much on these kinds of things. Too busy with other matters.”

All right, Gawyn thought, wondering why he was being told this.

Gawyn. Come on. Really? You have to be quicker on the uptake than this.

Sleete turned, meeting Gawyn’s eyes. “It’s been over ten years, but I’ve found someone worthy. She will bond you this hour, if you wish it.”

Huh. So…okay. That’s a thing.

It’s high praise, certainly. I like Sleete; he seems very no-nonsense and unobtrusively skilled, and this comes across as an offer given not because of who Gawyn is or who he is related to, but because Sleete thinks he’s genuinely worthy of it. Not just for his prowess with a sword, but because he does clearly have a sense of honour and duty, even if he doesn’t always know the best way to put that to use.

All in all, becoming Warder to a side-character Aes Sedai, while it’s never going to happen, would probably not be a bad thing for Gawyn. It would give him focus and purpose and direction, and being bonded by an Aes Sedai who already has a Warder would give him a mentor figure, which is something he rather desperately needs right now, I think. I wonder if Sleete has seen that in him, too. Ah well, doesn’t much matter, because there’s only one answer Gawyn’s giving to that.

(After all, when has Gawyn ever chosen to do something that might actually be good for him?)

“I’m honoured, Sleete,” Gawyn said. “But I came to the White Tower to study because of Andoran traditions, not because I was going to be a Warder. My place is beside my sister.” And if anyone is going to bond me, it will be Egwene.

…no cognitive dissonance there, of course. It’s going to be rather difficult to be beside your sister and also bonded by Egwene. It would actually make some sort of sense for Gawyn to be bonded by Elayne, but honestly that’s a bond-tangle he really does not need to be a part of, and Elayne is doing none too poorly for Warders as is.

Also, Gawyn, take a look around and notice how you are neither beside your sister nor bonded by Elayne, and then please take a moment to consider why that is, and then get the fuck out of here already.

“You came for those reasons,” Sleete said, “but those reasons have passed.”

That’s…a very good point, especially in a broader sense. What Gawyn thought he was supposed to do, and the way he thought things were going to be, is…not how things have turned out. And that’s something Gawyn hasn’t been able to accept or understand. He had one path he was focused on, and then it blew up and he’s been sort of left wandering the other paths with no roadmap and a broken compass.

“What do you think of what happened in the Tower, Sleete?”

He’s looking for answers, and trying to figure things out; he knows he’s lost and uncertain and caught in a place he doesn’t really want to be. It’s just that there are no good answers, really. It’s good that he’s asking, but eventually it is going to come down to the same thing it did before: he’s going to have to make his own choice.

As Lan said, “You can never know everything, and part of what you know is always wrong. Perhaps even the most important part. A portion of wisdom lies in knowing that. A portion of courage lies in going on anyway.”

Gawyn is actually not bad at the second part. His problem is with the first part; he’s working with incomplete information, and most likely he always will be, and some of what he ‘knows’ is wrong. And he…sort of knows that but also doesn’t always understand it, or take it into account when he acts.

“Just keep your head down,” Sleete said. “There are hot tempers in the Tower, but there are wise minds as well. They’ll do the right thing.”

Hm. Not completely sure that’s the best advice or attitude there, actually. I mean…on the one hand sure, don’t make it worse, and trust in those who are working to solve it. But also…maybe try to help them? Rather than just standing aside and letting other people do the hard work, and just expecting that someone will? And that you don’t have to do anything yourself, and it’ll all just be fine?

There’s a time and a place for neutrality, sure, and if your interest is in staying alive and getting on with the smaller things, then…okay. But this is a point when people actually need to do something. Egwene can only do so much of it by herself. And this isn’t something that the ‘neutral’ Aes Sedai can actually claim isn’t their problem. It is, because it affects all of them. They can’t just ignore that the Tower is broken, and trying to claim the moral high ground for not taking part in the conflict – by ignoring it and trying to pretend it doesn’t exist, but never making the difficult choice – is absurd. Sleete’s not quite doing that, but still.

Then again, it really isn’t Gawyn’s conflict to get involved in, so maybe Sleete has a point there. Gawyn needs to get out of the whole thing, because he can’t have it both ways: he told Sleete he just came to the Tower for Andoran tradition, but now he’s embroiled in the Tower’s division. Choose, Gawyn.

“Hattori got out,” Sleete continued softly. “Went on this mission to al’Thor, never knowing the depth of what it was about. She just didn’t want to be in the Tower. Wise woman.”

Except…wise? Really? She didn’t know what she was getting herself into, but she went anyway because she wanted to be away from the Tower – and so now she can wash her hands of it and also of what they did to Rand? That’s…not how responsibility works.

I’m all for taking the pragmatic approach, but own up to it.

“Hammar was a good man.”

“He was,” Gawyn said, feeling a twist in his stomach.

“But he would have killed you,” Sleete said. “Killed you cleanly and quickly. He was the one on the offensive, not you. He understood why you did what you did. Nobody made any good decisions that day. There weren’t any good decisions to be made.”

Well that last bit is certainly true, at any rate.

Still, there’s something about Sleete’s tendency to absolve everyone of responsibility that doesn’t quite work for me. I see where he’s going with it here, and I don’t entirely disagree, but…enh. That said, it is pretty much exactly what Gawyn needs to hear, and he beats himself up over enough already, so there’s that.

“She needed to get news to the Greens of what had happened at Dumai’s Wells, of what the Amyrlin’s true orders with al’Thor had entailed. I needed to survive. We did our duty. But once that message had been sent, if she hadn’t felt me approaching on my own, she would have come for me. No matter what. And we both know it.”

Some pointed parting words there, though of course Gawyn doesn’t quite get it. Leave, Gawyn.

The offer had been tempting for a heartbeat, but only as a way of escaping his problems.

Points for self awareness.

(He has so many problems)

Why couldn’t Egwene see that the man she’d grown up with had turned into a monster, twisted by the One Power?

Actually, Gawyn, Egwene was thinking just last chapter about how there was little left of the boy she grew up with. How she and Rand – or rather, the Dragon Reborn – had both changed to the point where they feel they don’t really know each other anymore.

But he’s not a monster, and that much I think she still knows, however else she may think of him. There is that much left of ‘Rand’ in her thoughts. And that’s going to be key in whatever is to come; another Amyrlin may well agree with Gawyn. Egwene, though, might have enough lingering love and trust for Rand to let him do what needs to be done, and to perhaps relinquish an attempt at controlling him.

He didn’t trust Aes Sedai. His mother had, and look where that had gotten her.

How does trusting Aes Sedai have anything to do with where Morgase ended up? Her problem was more with trusting one of the Forsaken, and it wasn’t like she was given a whole lot of choice in that matter.

Gawyn decides it’s a good idea to just walk into a meeting of Aes Sedai. Because yeah, that’s definitely going to work well, and get you access to all the information you could possibly want, Gawyn. Sure. You just go right ahead.

He shouldn’t have to eavesdrop.

The problem is, Gawyn, sometimes the way things should be isn’t the way they are, and sometimes you just have to…accept that. And find a way to work with it. And pick your battles.

So Gawyn gets sent away. What a surprise. Really, colour me shocked.

Aes Sedai. Sensible men stayed away from them when possible, and obeyed them with alacrity when staying away was impossible. Gawyn had trouble doing either; his bloodline prevented staying away, his pride interfered with obeying them.

Again, points for self-awareness. Though Gawyn has always been more or less cognizant of his problems. It’s in doing something to actually solve them, and making the hard choices, that he sometimes gets into trouble. He sees himself as being caught in an impossible tangle – and in fairness, he is in a mess of a situation that in many ways is over his head – but doesn’t believe that he can free himself from it. Because he sees all his options as distasteful or impossible in some way, and so he always comes close to a decision point but then turns back, and accepts the status quo. Even as he hates it.

No, he’d supported [Elaida] because he’d disliked Siuan’s treatment of his sister and Egwene.

But would Elaida have treated the girls any better? Would any of them have? Gawyn had made his decision in a moment of passion; it hadn’t been the coolheaded act of loyalty that his men assumed.

Where was his loyalty, then?

It’s not the first time he’s asked himself this – he’s been struggling with it pretty much since the schism itself. Because he doesn’t have all the information, and he doesn’t know the answers, and he’s trying to do the right thing but in the moment and even after, it’s hard to know what that is, especially when it’s so hard to find out what’s really happening, and what really happened.

But he needs to keep asking himself, and he needs to decide. Loyalty, law, a bond to the Tower…they’re all excuses at this point, more than anything else. And I think he knows it. He just…doesn’t know what to do instead. Or is afraid to think of it, because that’s not an easy question or an easy choice, and he’s perhaps even more afraid now of making the wrong one.

Oh for FUCK’S SAKE.

Of COURSE Gawyn overhears the Aes Sedai talking about how the rebels have set up their own Amyrlin. I’m sure he’ll get the full story with all the context and up-to-date information on what Egwene’s role actually turned out to be and—

Yeah, no, I can’t even say that with a straight face.

Also Katerine knows Travelling. Yay. Wonderful.

“But at least she was captured,” Narenwin noted, pausing at the doorway as Covarla passed through.

Katerine laughed sharply. “Captured and made to howl half the day. I wouldn’t want to be that al’Vere girl right now. Of course, it’s no less than she deserves for letting them put the Amyrlin’s shawl on her shoulders.”

Someone please cover Gawyn’s ears, because there’s absolutely no way he’s going to do anything but misinterpret this. Or rather, interpret it exactly as Katerine delivers it, without context or a healthy dose of skepticism.

He’d heard rumours that the rebels had their own Hall and Amyrlin…but Egwene? It was ridiculous! She was only Accepted!

But who better to set up for a potential fall? Perhaps none of the sisters had been willing to put their necks on the line by taking the title. A younger woman like Egwene would have made a perfect pawn.

So much faith you have in her, Gawyn.

But to be fair, that is exactly what they intended, when they raised her. It’s the logical conclusion, and it’s a part of why Egwene was able to take power in the first place; they simply didn’t see it coming, and didn’t think to put much effort into preventing it, and by the time they realised the truth, she had already run rings around them.

So of course Gawyn is going to do exactly what Mat did upon finding out, and immediately assume that he has to go rescue her. Sigh.

Egwene was in trouble. He blinked deliberately, standing in the square, cattle calling distantly, water bubbling in the canal beside him.

Egwene would be executed.

Where is your loyalty, Gawyn Trakand?

I just…can’t work up much enthusiasm for what appears to be an actual turning point and a decision, finally. Because the impetus for it is so…meh. He’s supposed to be a hero, so he has to go play white knight to a damsel in distress, right?

I don’t think my irritation – or apathy, more accurately – is aimed at the way this is written; it’s more an issue with Gawyn himself. That he takes what Katerine says on face value, because it plays into his… idea of how things work, or should work, or whatever. Egwene’s in trouble, so of course Egwene is in trouble, and of course he can rescue her, but she can’t rescue herself. Blah.

So it is nice to see Gawyn finally decide. He’s been moving towards this for a while but hasn’t been able to take that last step, and he has felt this conflict of loyalties, and uncertainty, and now he is finally choosing.

The way he’s making that decision irks me somwhat, though. Ah well. Can’t deny it’s in character.

Well, he’s made a decision and he’s certainly not wavering on it now. Bags packed and straight to his horse within minutes. Almost makes up for what – months? – of uncertainty and hesitation. Almost makes up for the fact that he hasn’t really taken time to think about what Katerine said, and her motivations for saying it, and whether or not it’s the whole truth, and…ah, whatever. He’s finally getting out of this clusterfuck – even if he is very likely headed right into another one – and I can definitely support that, at least. Maybe along the way he will learn some things. He tries, and his heart is in the right place. He just has some…annoying notions.

Sleete continued to watch from the shadow of a massive pine as Gawyn put the saddle on Challenge’s back. The Warder knew. Gawyn’s act had fooled everyone else, but he could sense that it wouldn’t work on this man. Light! Was he going to have to kill another man he respected?

You’re assuming you could kill him, Gawyn. As Lan so aptly demonstrated in New Spring, winning in sparring does not necessarily mean winning in a real fight. But Sleete isn’t here to fight Gawyn. He practically told him to leave, after all. To go do what he needed to do.

Burn you, Elaida! Burn you, Siuan Sanche, and your entire Tower! Stop using people. Stop using me!

Ah, Gawyn. He has been caught for so long between forces far larger than himself, caught up by events that threw him around before he could really get his bearings. Sure, some of it is on him, but some of it is just…he was young and sheltered and thought he knew his task, and then everything exploded and he couldn’t figure out who or what or why, and he’s been trying, but this…isn’t his story. He’s caught in the swirl of a far larger story, used and pushed and pulled.

“Then why let me go?” Gawyn said, rounding the gelding and taking the reins. He met those shadowed eyes and thought he caught the faintest hint of a smile on the lips beneath them.

“Perhaps I just like to see men care,” Sleete said. “Perhaps I hope you’ll find a way to help end this. Perhaps I am feeling lazy and sore with a bruised spirit from so many defeats. May you find what you seek, young Trakand.”

Okay, I do like him. Those are good parting words.

There was only one place he could think to go for help in rescuing Egwene.

OH. IS HE—IS HE GOING TO GARETH BRYNE? PLEASE TELL ME HE IS GOING TO GARETH BRYNE. For one, that way Bryne can sit him down for A Talk. And also can maybe help him. Because honestly, Gawyn needs a mentor. And a friend. And maybe someone to just…actually tell him things, for once, and see that he’s angry and sad and lost, and help him.

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#ah gawyn you do try my patience at times #but you also try; so I'll give you that #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

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