driftfleet | 007 // blink and you'll miss a revolution

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007 // blink and you'll miss a revolution

Who: Dorian!
Broadcast: Fleet-wide!
Action: On the Three Twins
When: 5/26, night

Well, now that we've all gotten our fill of rampant debauchery, I thought I might pose a little question to you, Fleet. A more...somber question.

[Dorian looks considering for a moment, and when he speaks, he talks with his hands as much as his mouth. It seems like a subject he's certainly into, that's for sure.]

What would you do if, for example, you disagreed with the politics of your home? What measures would you go to? At what cost would you ensure that things were righted, were changed for the better?

[He raises a brow.]

Would you kill for it? Would you bring about chaos and disarray because the end would justify those means, as it were? How many deaths can be justified by a revolutionary change? 10? 100? Thousands? If it were for the greater good, how many lives could you sacrifice?

[He brings the hand back to his chin, thinking.]

Color me curious. What are your politics there?

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Oh? I take it you'll be watching from the sidelines, then? I was curious to hear your opinions on the matter, Solas.

[Solas was always a bit like that- watching, observing the rest more than he spoke of himself. Even Dorian's gentle teasing could rarely break him out of his shell, in a strange way. Solas was like an enigma, in many ways, but a comfortable one. No one seemed the question him- he simply was.

But more than that, as quiet as Solas was, even Dorian knew that he held a depth of knowledge that many of them could scarcely fathom. To say that Solas intrigued him would be an understatement.]

I thought I made my opinions quite clear, Dorian.

[ He lifts his shoulders, absently, allowing it to come through the video. Dorian had broached the topic of the Tevinter power over elves more than once on their travels and he had reacted the same each time; as dismissive as he could manage with the anger that still twisted and burned in his heart.

Then how sorry are you?

Perhaps Dorian has finally learned that change, thoughtful change, can be the best of options. ]

I don't think we need to reiterate.

[Dorian looks down for a moment. Solas was, in many ways, a man he admired. It was a fault of Dorian's, that he would grasp onto men like that in his life. His father first, then Magister Alexius. Perhaps it was fondness, in its own way, but those men each challenged him as much as Solas ever did.

Dorian hates to explain himself, to anyone. But perhaps he can give a shred of that to Solas, a small reassurance that this conversation won't be the same repeated frustration for the two of them. Dorian wants Solas to help him, to advise him, but before he came here, his ideas were short-sighted and born from a place where he was on the top of the food chain, as it were.

Solas challenges him, he always has.]

Perhaps a few things change, Solas. I...

[He makes a small sound, thinking how best to phrase it.

And finally, he just says it, after several long moments.]

I was wrong, before. I was short-sighted and I wasn't considering everything. Before I came here, I thought many things that were wrong.

[It was the truth, as much rare honesty as he can muster, and he prays, he hopes, that Solas will not make him regret it. That he won't just laugh in the face of his penitence and be done with him.

Dorian has changed, has been changed, and now he has seen just how dreadful slavery is. He had thought, before, that most were treated as well as they were in his home. And even when he was aware that bad things happened, they were far away.

Dorian could distance himself from them, because he was distanced. He was able to remain comfortable where he was, pretending that those that suffered existed but they weren't truly real.

But that has changed, and he's seen, personally, how men have suffered as slaves. Nel first, and then Fenris...with every white lyrium line etched into Fenris's skin, Dorian feels a stab of pain at the cruelty and depravity of man.

He looks into the feed.]

Chiefly of all that I thought about the elves of Tevinter. I was wrong.

[A start.]

[ This is not what he had expected when he chimed in with his own moment of pause, his own consideration; he did not expect that when he answered Dorian's call he would be met with this. The understanding is not entirely new, of course, but it is obvious that Dorian has matured, grown in ways that Solas hadn't expected to see, even given his own short time on the ship itself.

He can recall some of their conversations as easily as if he were reliving them in this moment, as if he is standing there watching them unfold. He remembers Dorian's near flippancy, the lack of empathy he had shown, once, that had grated upon Solas and, in turn, the apologies that had come. It makes him pause, certainly, a twist to his expression as he attempts to come to terms with what is now being laid at his feet.

Apologies are all well and good, but it is actions that undo mistakes, not sweet words. He had learned, through his own trials, that mistakes can be made but, at the same time, they can be undone, as long as you are willing to put in the time and effort that is required to do it. ]

It is a failing, but at least you are willing to admit to your mistake. That isn't something that can be credited to many men.

[ Even Solas wasn't particularly keen on admitting his failings or his mistakes, not unless he nearly forced to. Brushing things away as the folly of youth instead of facing what he had done was far easier, and, so, a part of him could empathise. It had been a long time since he was young and foolish but he felt the after-effects as surely as he thinks Dorian is feeling them now.

He bows his head and sighs. ]

Apologies will not undo what has happened. Apologies will not destroy the romance that surrounds the home of the People, nor the suffering they have faced. You and I are both aware of that, and I am glad to see that you are beginning to see things differently, with a little more clarity. Nothing is as the history books paint it, nothing is as simple as the world would like it to be, and the best gift we can be given is understanding of that.

[ But perhaps he's getting a little too nostalgic. ]

The only way to truly make amends has been laid before you. It's up to you to prove what you will do with the mantle of that power. What kind of man you intend to be.

[ The same words he had said to Arhen, of a sorts; what sort of hero would the Inquisitor be? What sort of mage, what sort of man, what sort of Tevinter would Dorian be, when the time came to make a change? ]

Edited 2015-05-27 00:31 (UTC)

[Dorian nods, and he falls silent. He's not good at this, this odd kind of protracted honesty that he knew he owes Solas. Solas is a good man, Dorian thinks, a wise one. A man he can learn much from.

A smirk quirks at his lips, and he nods.]

I am still learning the manner of man I am but...if you wouldn't protest, would you agree to speak with me, sometime? You are in Personnel, are you not?

[It's honesty, a rare request for it, but he hides in under a mask of nonchalance, a mask that says this is easy, this is mundane.

It's anything but that, for Dorian.

Dorian is used to trusting men, to asking them to help guide his steps, and for them to betray him. His father, Halward, was the first. Dorian can still remember being locked in the Pavus family home, all but a prisoner, chained to both a villa and to a legacy he wanted nothing to do with.

And, too, he can remember Gereon Alexius. A man that Dorian once thought beyond compare, who he loved as much as his own kin. Perhaps more, if he was honest- the admiration for Magister Alexius went into his bones, shapes him into the man he was now. And even he can remember his former mentor, clothed in the robes of the Venatori, given in to the very men he swore he would fight against.

But being here, Dorian has learned that life could be better, that mean wouldn't always betray him. And so he reaches out, hesitantly, questing toward something with the trust he bears in his heart.

Because the truth is that he trusts Solas, ever as much as he trusted his father and Alexius.]

[ If Solas is left a little uncertain or shocked by the request he says nothing about it; his expression barely flickers, his fingers lifting to brush along his jaw as if he's seriously thinking about it before his smile turns and he nods his head, a simple, obvious movement. ]

Of course. I'd welcome the company and Cole had been hoping for a chance to see you again. I'm sure you wouldn't mind indulging him as well as the both of us, Dorian.

[ He can see what is blossoming here and he isn't entirely sure how he feels about it, an uncertain prickle that settles around his shoulders like a foggy blanket of doubt and uncertainty. Ever since he had joined the Inquisition Solas had known what his journey would lead to, the path he was going to walk - he had always known that his steps would take him to the Foci he wanted, the things he needed to undo mistakes.

During the course of his stay at Arhen's side he had not imagined that others would become close with him, that he would think to rely on them, compliment their magic. He did not think he would ever trust them, for he is not a man that trusts easily nor is he the kind to put his faith in someone he did not truly believe in. It was a curious thing, trust, and so fragile, especially when he is more than aware of what is ahead of them in the future.

Solas is going to leave, he will abandon them all, and this fickle, innocent thing, almost like hope, will be ripped from Dorian's hands.

But Solas says nothing. He keeps his secrets, as he always had, and he offers nothing more than a smile, as he always does. No one save Cassandra and Cole know the truth and they will keep their words to him as surely as he keeps his promises to himself. Mistakes cannot be made again and he would do anything - anything, the blood that may run on his hands nothing compared to the darkness already there - to undo them.

To Dorian, for Dorian? He does nothing more than smile, that same pleasant thing, as if nothing is amiss at all. ]

It would be a pleasure to host your company.

Edited 2015-05-27 02:04 (UTC)

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