[Barrow nods, grim. It’s not that he’s so terribly afraid of repercussions—- he’s already died once, hasn’t he?—- it’s the social aspect of it, the having to explain why, the examination of his own choices.
Awful.]
What was your reason? [he asks after a thoughtful pause,]
They were the same, though other than putting it in my formal resignation, I've not been asked for it often.
[Many people assumed they knew. Others didn't care, he imagines. He pauses, now, gathering his answer to express it succinctly.]
I believed in the Order as a force for good, broadly. That abuses and horrors were aberrations that would be punished, and that we were protecting mages from those who would do them ill as much as we were a check on the few mages who lost control. Then years of evidence suggested to me that those of us who believed that were in the minority. It was a thing we told recruits, yes, but not a thing you were expected to go on believing. It became clear to me that the structure of the Order, if it didn't encourage abuses, was at least certainly not designed to check them.
I reached a point where I did not believe I was in a position to push for reform from within, and that had been the only reason I was staying for some years. When that last reason was gone, I resigned.
[Barrow nods his comprehension over a sip of his ale, a grim respect in the way he looks at Vanya: this must be what it's like to really think about things, to understand the why beyond intuition and impulse.
Imagine having the gumption to even attempt reform. To recognize its necessity, to take action, and to take a principled stance in its absence.]
[He looks, briefly, unsure how to take this, for all he doesn't doubt it's sincere. After a moment, he says:]
I don't think I'm so extraordinary. I've tried to do the right thing, when I know what it is. But I've been pushed as often as I've stepped forward on my own power. Luck, that I met the people I did when I did.
[A short puff of an exhale.]
How sad for the Order as a whole, if I'm the very best it can do.
[Barrow trails off. How sad indeed-- but here they are, and there's still a mess to be cleaned up, one way or another.
He's silent for almost too long, focusing on his ale as he drinks from it measuredly. When he finally speaks again, it's with a hesitance similar to before.]
Wanted to ask... when you went off lyrium. How'd you do it.
[Under the circumstances, the question is hardly unexpected. It certainly gave him less pause.]
Spoke to the Commander, Flint then, about my intentions and when would be a less inconvenient time. Then checked myself into the infirmary so there'd be someone there to stop me if I felt I needed it, and to look after me when things got bad. I don't know if it's the same for everyone, but for me ... Well. Have you ever had to stop briefly? Interruption in the supply, stuck somewhere remote?
For me, the worst of it was the disorientation. The thirst certainly wasn't pleasant, but I found it easier to power through. I had a few days where I wasn't consistently sure where I was or who I was speaking to, and it wasn't something I'd be eager to experience again. But it does pass. Eventually it does.
Better than I feared I would, I think. It took ... even once the worst was past, I had a few weeks of slow going. The way you would after a serious illness. And it's still sometimes—
[He pauses.]
I think it's two things. Sometimes the craving feels physical, but I know I can power through them. I've been doing it a while now, that gets easier with practice. But I think sometimes, especially in battle, it feels like I'm fighting with a hand behind my back, especially with the Venatori. That hasn't gone away, really.
Then again. People with anchor shards have been talking about cutting off their actual hands. I can still hold a sword and a shield both. I thought I'd be useless, and I'm not that.
[More than he would usually speak aloud, surely. But even if all he can give Barrow is the truth, it feels important to do.]
[Barrow nods, taking it in. Nothing can ever get easier, can it?]
Appreciate the honesty.
[He falls silent a moment, deliberating on whether or not he has any further questions-- Vanya's someone he hates to bother, worried he's wasting his time by being a big dumb oaf in his vicinity. Finally, a thought arises:]
Depends on which way they do it, [after a short pause]. I already told Rowntree that I'm disinclined to be a liability for Riftwatch, but he doesn't think they're likely to use me that way.
[For one thing, they'd have easier targets in the organization if they wanted a lever against Riftwatch specifically.]
I haven't done anything I need protection from, as far as civil authorities are concerned, barring any fabrication of evidence or bad faith interpretations. And if the Chantry wants to claim I'm a deserter retroactively, I'll make my case to the contrary.
[Without much hope of winning, likely, but perhaps it will give others courage. Shame those corrupting their offices. Or not. Still:]
I've run a couple of times, in different ways. I don't plan to again. They know where to find me.
[It comes out as a full-body sigh back into his chair as the weight of Vanya's answer settles over Barrow. He knew this, of course-- for all of them-- but to hear it said aloud, it feels a certain way.]
They certainly do. [He tosses back the rest of his drink.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Awful.]
What was your reason? [he asks after a thoughtful pause,]
The real one or the official one.
no subject
[Many people assumed they knew. Others didn't care, he imagines. He pauses, now, gathering his answer to express it succinctly.]
I believed in the Order as a force for good, broadly. That abuses and horrors were aberrations that would be punished, and that we were protecting mages from those who would do them ill as much as we were a check on the few mages who lost control. Then years of evidence suggested to me that those of us who believed that were in the minority. It was a thing we told recruits, yes, but not a thing you were expected to go on believing. It became clear to me that the structure of the Order, if it didn't encourage abuses, was at least certainly not designed to check them.
I reached a point where I did not believe I was in a position to push for reform from within, and that had been the only reason I was staying for some years. When that last reason was gone, I resigned.
no subject
Imagine having the gumption to even attempt reform. To recognize its necessity, to take action, and to take a principled stance in its absence.]
You're the best of us, [he rasps, low and sad.]
no subject
I don't think I'm so extraordinary. I've tried to do the right thing, when I know what it is. But I've been pushed as often as I've stepped forward on my own power. Luck, that I met the people I did when I did.
[A short puff of an exhale.]
How sad for the Order as a whole, if I'm the very best it can do.
no subject
[Barrow trails off. How sad indeed-- but here they are, and there's still a mess to be cleaned up, one way or another.
He's silent for almost too long, focusing on his ale as he drinks from it measuredly. When he finally speaks again, it's with a hesitance similar to before.]
Wanted to ask... when you went off lyrium. How'd you do it.
no subject
Spoke to the Commander, Flint then, about my intentions and when would be a less inconvenient time. Then checked myself into the infirmary so there'd be someone there to stop me if I felt I needed it, and to look after me when things got bad. I don't know if it's the same for everyone, but for me ... Well. Have you ever had to stop briefly? Interruption in the supply, stuck somewhere remote?
no subject
Couple times.
[He winces,] it hasn't been... well, I'm not looking forward to it.
no subject
For me, the worst of it was the disorientation. The thirst certainly wasn't pleasant, but I found it easier to power through. I had a few days where I wasn't consistently sure where I was or who I was speaking to, and it wasn't something I'd be eager to experience again. But it does pass. Eventually it does.
no subject
[He sighs, rubs his temple. A few days is something he can do. Theoretically.]
Seems like you came out of it good as new, anyway. [A small, hopeful smile.]
no subject
[He pauses.]
I think it's two things. Sometimes the craving feels physical, but I know I can power through them. I've been doing it a while now, that gets easier with practice. But I think sometimes, especially in battle, it feels like I'm fighting with a hand behind my back, especially with the Venatori. That hasn't gone away, really.
Then again. People with anchor shards have been talking about cutting off their actual hands. I can still hold a sword and a shield both. I thought I'd be useless, and I'm not that.
[More than he would usually speak aloud, surely. But even if all he can give Barrow is the truth, it feels important to do.]
no subject
Appreciate the honesty.
[He falls silent a moment, deliberating on whether or not he has any further questions-- Vanya's someone he hates to bother, worried he's wasting his time by being a big dumb oaf in his vicinity.
Finally, a thought arises:]
If the Order comes for you-- what'll you do?
no subject
[For one thing, they'd have easier targets in the organization if they wanted a lever against Riftwatch specifically.]
I haven't done anything I need protection from, as far as civil authorities are concerned, barring any fabrication of evidence or bad faith interpretations. And if the Chantry wants to claim I'm a deserter retroactively, I'll make my case to the contrary.
[Without much hope of winning, likely, but perhaps it will give others courage. Shame those corrupting their offices. Or not. Still:]
I've run a couple of times, in different ways. I don't plan to again. They know where to find me.
no subject
[It comes out as a full-body sigh back into his chair as the weight of Vanya's answer settles over Barrow. He knew this, of course-- for all of them-- but to hear it said aloud, it feels a certain way.]
They certainly do. [He tosses back the rest of his drink.]