Oh har har har, did you lose the ability to appreciate a metaphor along with every bit of your emotions? And don't give me that crap. I'm no better if you tried ripping out the demon in me, and you're no better tearing out what's inside you.
I have not torn out what's inside of me. I have severed my connection to the Fade. You understand this. You are familiar with the Fade and what it is, are you not? Why do you berate me, Samantha?
You severed the source of your dreams and the center of yoru emotions with it, you brainless git! [Hayup. She was definitely pissed off.] Not only did you cut out, yourself, something so intrinsic to who and what you are as your magic, you took away your dreams and your memories.
Why do you think I'm berating you? There is nothing in the world that would have justified that.
I have my memories. Those have not left me. But, no, I cannot feel. [He watches her with dead eyes.] You cannot judge my actions, Samantha. You are separate from me. You cannot know what has led to this point. You... are angry. It causes you to lack clarity in your judgments.
[Damnit. Ok, he had a point. She wasn't the arbiter and judge of his actions. She was the arbiter and judge of her own actions, and nobody else's, save where they came into contact with her own deeds. However, that didn't make her...]
You aren't making me less angry right now by not telling me why you did this. You realize that, don't you?
Forgive me. My intent was not to persist in angering you. I had become the very thing I hated, and I-- [He paused, though the pause wasn't indicative of emotion or inflection of any kind.] Do you know of the elven Creators, the elven gods, beyond the fact that I named myself one?
I'm aware that they exist, and that according to you there was some sort of ... well, not betrayal. The details are still fuzzy. Explain how you've become the thing that you hated and why truly severing your magic actually fixed that.
Ah. I had not told you the entire story. The elven Creators were revered as gods, though we were not. That you know. The Dalish remember the Creators, myself excluded, as benevolent beings. Falon'Din, their friend of the dead, once guided the dead into the Fade to their eternal rest. They name him as one who will protect them from death, but they do not sing songs about his vanity. Falon'Din's appetite for adulation was so great, he began wars to amass more followers.
[This story, he related without a flicker of emotion, of course, though once he might have told it with a touch of vehemence to an unwitting Inquisitor. Relating it to his friends here, he'd always shown more of his venom.]
The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans. Mythal rallied the rest of the Creators once the shadow of Falon'Din's hunger stretched across her own people. It was almost too late. Falon'Din only surrendered when we bloodied him in his own temple.
When Andruil, the goddess of the hunt, could not find sport in hunting animals, she turned to the People, setting them loose in her temple to chase them down and slaughter them. Man, woman, child, it did not matter to her so long as they were more clever than the animals in the field. June, the god of craft, poured gold down the throats of his slaves in the hopes of capturing true and perfect art.
Arlathan was rotting because of them. So I betrayed them to save the People. I sealed them in the Fade. But here, I have become as they were, and the enormous horror of that revelation threatened to destroy me.
[He lapsed into silence.] Forgive me, I have spoken much, and offered you little opportunity to reply. [Of course, there was no apology in his tone. He was merely regurgitating social niceties.]
You've been succumbing to temptation, and rather than let yourself become the indolent monster that your kin became, you've cut the part out of you that you think would be most likely to hurt others. Would that be the short version of the story you just told me?
[That actual reply took a bit in coming. His stories actually horrified her. Andruil and June sounded almost demonic in behavior, lost in a madness she knew from her own father... from her half-sister.]
If it is, I have a story or two to share with you.
At the hunt, I... took from a lover without giving anything in return. I wanted to see him broken. I hurt him, becoming that which I hate. This, then, became my only option.
First of all, we were under the Maeve's magic on the hunt. You've been under their magic before. I call bullshit there. You know you aren't entirely responsible for what happens when they mind control us. They're more powerful mages here than we are, like it or not.
Story time. [She sighed and settled down.] This was not an isolated incident, keep in mind. Before I found ways to control what I am, there would come times I would lose myself. It was... basically the demon in me starving and acting out, but when it happened, I would take from whatever I could find. Screams, flesh, sex, anything that came to my mind in the instant. The first time it happened in the City of Asgard, I found some local boy while I was hunting with a vampire... don't even remember her name anymore. He was willing for the sex, but we bled him dry, chopped him to pieces and left him on all parts of the town. The police were searching for proof for years over that one crime alone. I had raped a friend, earlier that night, who had been trying to stop me, keep me in control.
For almost a year straight afterwards, friends of mine would chain me to a chair for a full day on the new moon, when we knew it would happen. They'd lock me up, put wards everywhere and stand guard so I didn't hurt anyone. I fought hard to stop killing, losing control, but there were still other victims before it was done. Nobody allowed me to take the easy outs. They forgave me. Despite everything, they forgave me.
You aren't June. You didn't, of your own free will, pour gold down some poor sod's throat. Maybe they're getting to you a little, maybe they're getting to me. I've been needing outlets for all the anger that builds up, but that doesn't mean you're June, anymore than I am my sick father. There's still a difference.
It is odd. I know I should react with empathy to your story. I have memories of such reactions. But I cannot. To say that I am grieved by your story would be offering an empty platitude that I don't think you'd appreciate.
Regardless, what I did to Meallan, I chose to do. I could have walked away, but I chose not to, because I wanted to hurt him. Stripping him of his free will brought me pleasure. That made me a monster, and I couldn't bear it.
Anything that happened in that hunt wasn't entirely you. I agree. If you took control of him, then that was too far. But if you know that, and he's still around to forgive you, then you can atone and you can stop becoming a monster.
You don't need to be that. Do you think just because you have no emotions or magic you can't do something horrible? Ever seen a knife and rope used?
I could still do something horrible, yes, this is true. But if I did, it would be because the action was the logical choice. This is... [He pauses, searching for the right word.] Peaceful. I am well like this, and it's better.
You're lobotomized. Of course you're more peaceful. There's no way you're going to convince me that this choice was remotely the appropriate one, but I'm also not keen on trying to force some sort of reversal, assuming one was possible.
I just think you've been colossally foolish here. What you've done solves nothing. If we lobotomized everyone who allowed the Maeve to brainwash them for a night of mind-controlled debauchery people regretted afterwards, there'd be a house full of zombies.
Perhaps you are right, but I could see no other option, and now there is no altering my course. I cannot feel sorrow or regret for what I've done, but if it would please you, I'll tell you I would change my decision if I could.
It would please me if you were telling the truth in saying that, and if you'd tell Meallan. [Because she was going to be just manipulative enough not to mention the fact that she might have heard him say something about a potential cure.]
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Why do you think I'm berating you? There is nothing in the world that would have justified that.
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You aren't making me less angry right now by not telling me why you did this. You realize that, don't you?
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[This story, he related without a flicker of emotion, of course, though once he might have told it with a touch of vehemence to an unwitting Inquisitor. Relating it to his friends here, he'd always shown more of his venom.]
The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans. Mythal rallied the rest of the Creators once the shadow of Falon'Din's hunger stretched across her own people. It was almost too late. Falon'Din only surrendered when we bloodied him in his own temple.
When Andruil, the goddess of the hunt, could not find sport in hunting animals, she turned to the People, setting them loose in her temple to chase them down and slaughter them. Man, woman, child, it did not matter to her so long as they were more clever than the animals in the field. June, the god of craft, poured gold down the throats of his slaves in the hopes of capturing true and perfect art.
Arlathan was rotting because of them. So I betrayed them to save the People. I sealed them in the Fade. But here, I have become as they were, and the enormous horror of that revelation threatened to destroy me.
[He lapsed into silence.] Forgive me, I have spoken much, and offered you little opportunity to reply. [Of course, there was no apology in his tone. He was merely regurgitating social niceties.]
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[That actual reply took a bit in coming. His stories actually horrified her. Andruil and June sounded almost demonic in behavior, lost in a madness she knew from her own father... from her half-sister.]
If it is, I have a story or two to share with you.
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At the hunt, I... took from a lover without giving anything in return. I wanted to see him broken. I hurt him, becoming that which I hate. This, then, became my only option.
[He settles back.]
I would hear your story regardless.
TW: Mentions of Rape/Murder
Story time. [She sighed and settled down.] This was not an isolated incident, keep in mind. Before I found ways to control what I am, there would come times I would lose myself. It was... basically the demon in me starving and acting out, but when it happened, I would take from whatever I could find. Screams, flesh, sex, anything that came to my mind in the instant. The first time it happened in the City of Asgard, I found some local boy while I was hunting with a vampire... don't even remember her name anymore. He was willing for the sex, but we bled him dry, chopped him to pieces and left him on all parts of the town. The police were searching for proof for years over that one crime alone. I had raped a friend, earlier that night, who had been trying to stop me, keep me in control.
For almost a year straight afterwards, friends of mine would chain me to a chair for a full day on the new moon, when we knew it would happen. They'd lock me up, put wards everywhere and stand guard so I didn't hurt anyone. I fought hard to stop killing, losing control, but there were still other victims before it was done. Nobody allowed me to take the easy outs. They forgave me. Despite everything, they forgave me.
You aren't June. You didn't, of your own free will, pour gold down some poor sod's throat. Maybe they're getting to you a little, maybe they're getting to me. I've been needing outlets for all the anger that builds up, but that doesn't mean you're June, anymore than I am my sick father. There's still a difference.
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Regardless, what I did to Meallan, I chose to do. I could have walked away, but I chose not to, because I wanted to hurt him. Stripping him of his free will brought me pleasure. That made me a monster, and I couldn't bear it.
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You don't need to be that. Do you think just because you have no emotions or magic you can't do something horrible? Ever seen a knife and rope used?
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I just think you've been colossally foolish here. What you've done solves nothing. If we lobotomized everyone who allowed the Maeve to brainwash them for a night of mind-controlled debauchery people regretted afterwards, there'd be a house full of zombies.
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[Is he deliberately misunderstanding her? The world may never know.]
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