Yes, that picture Vanya is painting has come into focus now, full clarity afforded by the melancholy colors shaping the negative space of Antosha: his lack of presence. Shading and detail-work remain, but the truth of it reads as easy as a very tragic book. Ness glances back at Vanya, notes the nervous energy of his hands.
She'd intended to leave serving the food until they were finished with his story, use it as a comforting balm after what was sure to be a complicated topic, but it takes only a moment's consideration before Ness reaches for a plate. The stew is not for him, not unless he wants someβfor him she plates the two hand pies, fish and lemon and star anise, warming under the cast-iron next to the fire, and pulls the folded napkin protecting the candied sage leaves out of her apron pocket. She sets the plate in front of Vanya, the napkin of sage nearby, and offers a small smileβshe tried her best, followed Gela's recipe as closely as she could. Hopefully it takes the sting out of her next question.
"So, at what point did he defect?"
This is not the tone used to speak of a dead lover, nor of a relationship that failed for mundane, everyday incompatibility.
Negative space, things unsaid... they all form the shape of betrayal, not loss.
He's certainly known Ness long enough now that he isn't surprised at her cleverness. A nod, only, to signal that she'd read the details correctly. (That and a smile at the hand pies, gratefully accepted; the star anise is a distinct enough smell in contrast to local flavors to be instantly nostalgic.)
"In 9:44. I don't know if you've heard or run across mentions but ... that summer the Inquisition's mages were targeted by a rogue group of Seekers of Truth who captured a cache of phylacteries left abandoned during the Mage-Templar war. The Inquisition hunted them down and took possession of the phylacteries. Inquisition-affiliated mages asked for permission to have control of their own phylacteries, if they could be identified; leadership initially refused. Many of the mages went on strike to force negotiations." A brief flicker of a rueful smile. "I know this is a bit of a long walk to answer your question. But I think it's ..."
He exhales and takes a moment to take a small bite of one of the hand pies. He nods again, though it's hard to tell whether it's because the food is good or just that he's landed on what he wants to say.
"Antosha left me a letter, when he went, but I told you what 'why' wasn't a thing he thought of much. He didn't tell me why. But given the timing, I think he saw it as an inevitability that, once Corypheus was defeated, the Inquisition and the Chantry would try to force mages back into Circles. Even if the mages got some of what they wanted, the negotiations were too hard-won. And too many people knew him to make retreating back to the woods plausible. I don't believe, even now, the Venatori held any ideological pull for him. I think he narrowed his view to people who wanted to imprison him and people who would let him be free. That doesn't excuseβ"
When he breaks off, it's not out of visible emotion, but it isn't hard to guess that some strong feeling has made going on temporarily complicated for him.
"He was important to you," she says softly, once it becomes clear he isn't going to continue. "He is important to you. You don't have to apologize for that, Vanya."
The name comes naturally, the intimacy of it feeling appropriate in a way it rarely ever does. She's out of her depth, she knows. Treading water in the fathomless waters of a topic deeper than her shallow experiences of love and fear can prepare her for. It's intimidating, but only from how intensely she wants to be kind, to be thoughtful. She respects Vanya so much, to hurt him through carelessnessβ
"We can table this for another time," Ness offers gently. "It's a lot to lay out all at once, I understand that."
Though perhaps, now that the wound has been re-opened, it's better to get it all out at once, to expel the blood and pain and venom of it before it has time to fester. Speaking on these things can be so painful, even when it's necessaryβbut perhaps he doesn't need to speak. She remembers, sat in Stephen's office, incapable of putting her death into words, showing him instead. Two mute children in a cellar stinking of rot and decay, showing her what she needed to see.
"Or if it's difficult to continue," her words come slow, cautious, "I couldβ"
She raises her hand, wiggles her fingers at his temple.
"You could show me instead. Nothing more than you want me to see. Only if you want, if it would be easier."
Edited (repeating icons is verboten) 2025-06-15 21:06 (UTC)
"No," he says, but gently. It's impossible to miss the care she's taking, her desire to keep this simple for him. Even if he's not willing to open his memories to her, it's clear he takes the offer for the kind one that it is.
"No, as long as I haven't bored you," deadpan but it is a bit of a joke, "I don't mind carrying on the long way. It's only ...The Order is a betrayal without a face, you know? The things that were wrong about it were an avalanche of decisions, very few of them about me as an individual. Antosha leaving was... I'll never know if he assumed that nothing I could say would change his mind, or if he was afraid I would talk him out of his decision and he didn't wish me to." Vanya's not sure whether that distinction would ever matter to anyone else, but it would make a difference to him. Still.
"Regardless. He left, and it was one more thing on a large pile in my misgivings about the Order. But I didn't resign until the Divine Election, about half a year later. When the call went out for an Exalted March, it was clear I couldn't go on wearing the Templar insignia but distancing myself from any of their work other than the Inquisition."
For perhaps the first time in her life, it doesn't occur to Ness to be self-conscious. He demurs her offer, she accepts with a graceful smile and a nod of understanding, and that's that. No inner histrionics, no fear. Simple as can be.
She ladles herself a bowl of stew, picks up a spoon. Comes nearer to Vanya to lean against an adjacent counter, steaming bowl clutched to her chest to ward off the ache of his story.
"No one thing," confirming, as she thought, "but a lot of smaller things."
Thoughtful and somber and not all that hungry, now it's come down to it, she pushes her spoon listlessly around her bowl... and chuckles.
"I seem to have miscalculated, haven't I?" It's kind of darkly comical just how badly, really. Her lips twist in a guilty mockery of a smile. "I'd intended it to be a, you know," she gestures to the hand pies in front of him, "a comfort, after a difficut conversation."
Somehow, though she really should have anticipated this, she'd underestimated quite how upsetting the whole topic was going to end up. It's not the end of the world, these things happen, sometimes people mistime kind gestures but that doesn't make them any less kindβ
"I understand if the subject has put you off food. I think they should keep til morning, at least? I'm not sure. I can try again another day, if..."
Ness trails off, realizing she's rambling. Her eyes meet his, briefly, before dropping back to her bowl.
"Gela and Cedric helped me. I wanted to do something as kind for you as all you've done for me."
"You've been very kind in a variety of ways, but this one is appreciated," he says, a bit warmer. "You've not upset me or gotten anything from me I was reluctant to give. I promise you. Though I fear it wasn't a very satisfying answer to your question about my leaving the Order. But it isn't..." He trails for a moment, thinking of how he wants to frame his thought.
"It is not as if these are things I never think of, and you brought them to the surface. It's true that it is rare I speak of them, but you've not put me off of food or unsettled me by asking. You are simply in a unique position. I've not had many people show genuine interest who weren't privy to parts of the story themselves. It's unusual to have to frame the entire thing as I have, but just because it was long and complicated doesn't mean that you've done anything amiss. Well," more gently, "unless I've upset you, which wasn't my intention."
Her instinct is to trip over herself and him with reassurances, but Ness presses her lips together against the impulse and takes a moment to actually breathe. To think about how she feels.
"Not upset," she says after a moment, "It's, I wish none of it had happened to you. You're a good person who I admire, and I want the world to have been kinder to you. I don't like to imagine you in pain like that."
It occurs to her, suddenly, that maybe she's revealed too much. At least she's very likely overstepping. Or is that a normal thing to say, and she's the one making it weird? She meets Vanya's eyes for a brief moment, trying to quickly discern how he's taken that, before her embarrassment gets the better of her and she has to look away again, back to her bowl. Her cheeks are flushed, she can feel it, but maybe he can't tell in the firelight.
"Not upset, though. I'm grateful you'd tell me, it's not so unsatisfying an answer as you think."
When she glances up, she finds him as steady and calm as usual. If the story has shaken him, it's nowhere visible in his expression, not quite smiling but also quietly warm, like a banked fire.
As she glances back down, he says, "I'm glad, then. And if you ever wish to speak of it again or if questions occur to you later, you needn't think of this as the only time we will ever discuss the topic. I can think of pleasanter ones, perhaps, but I also think ... if I were in your place, in a world strange to me, I would also wish to know more of it. Of the lives of people around me. You've only ever asked with kindness."
But at the same time, maybe they've both gone through enough of his past for one night, as the unspoken coda to his offer suggests.
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no subject
She'd intended to leave serving the food until they were finished with his story, use it as a comforting balm after what was sure to be a complicated topic, but it takes only a moment's consideration before Ness reaches for a plate. The stew is not for him, not unless he wants someβfor him she plates the two hand pies, fish and lemon and star anise, warming under the cast-iron next to the fire, and pulls the folded napkin protecting the candied sage leaves out of her apron pocket. She sets the plate in front of Vanya, the napkin of sage nearby, and offers a small smileβshe tried her best, followed Gela's recipe as closely as she could. Hopefully it takes the sting out of her next question.
"So, at what point did he defect?"
This is not the tone used to speak of a dead lover, nor of a relationship that failed for mundane, everyday incompatibility.
Negative space, things unsaid... they all form the shape of betrayal, not loss.
no subject
"In 9:44. I don't know if you've heard or run across mentions but ... that summer the Inquisition's mages were targeted by a rogue group of Seekers of Truth who captured a cache of phylacteries left abandoned during the Mage-Templar war. The Inquisition hunted them down and took possession of the phylacteries. Inquisition-affiliated mages asked for permission to have control of their own phylacteries, if they could be identified; leadership initially refused. Many of the mages went on strike to force negotiations." A brief flicker of a rueful smile. "I know this is a bit of a long walk to answer your question. But I think it's ..."
He exhales and takes a moment to take a small bite of one of the hand pies. He nods again, though it's hard to tell whether it's because the food is good or just that he's landed on what he wants to say.
"Antosha left me a letter, when he went, but I told you what 'why' wasn't a thing he thought of much. He didn't tell me why. But given the timing, I think he saw it as an inevitability that, once Corypheus was defeated, the Inquisition and the Chantry would try to force mages back into Circles. Even if the mages got some of what they wanted, the negotiations were too hard-won. And too many people knew him to make retreating back to the woods plausible. I don't believe, even now, the Venatori held any ideological pull for him. I think he narrowed his view to people who wanted to imprison him and people who would let him be free. That doesn't excuseβ"
When he breaks off, it's not out of visible emotion, but it isn't hard to guess that some strong feeling has made going on temporarily complicated for him.
no subject
The name comes naturally, the intimacy of it feeling appropriate in a way it rarely ever does. She's out of her depth, she knows. Treading water in the fathomless waters of a topic deeper than her shallow experiences of love and fear can prepare her for. It's intimidating, but only from how intensely she wants to be kind, to be thoughtful. She respects Vanya so much, to hurt him through carelessnessβ
"We can table this for another time," Ness offers gently. "It's a lot to lay out all at once, I understand that."
Though perhaps, now that the wound has been re-opened, it's better to get it all out at once, to expel the blood and pain and venom of it before it has time to fester. Speaking on these things can be so painful, even when it's necessaryβbut perhaps he doesn't need to speak. She remembers, sat in Stephen's office, incapable of putting her death into words, showing him instead. Two mute children in a cellar stinking of rot and decay, showing her what she needed to see.
"Or if it's difficult to continue," her words come slow, cautious, "I couldβ"
She raises her hand, wiggles her fingers at his temple.
"You could show me instead. Nothing more than you want me to see. Only if you want, if it would be easier."
no subject
"No, as long as I haven't bored you," deadpan but it is a bit of a joke, "I don't mind carrying on the long way. It's only ...The Order is a betrayal without a face, you know? The things that were wrong about it were an avalanche of decisions, very few of them about me as an individual. Antosha leaving was... I'll never know if he assumed that nothing I could say would change his mind, or if he was afraid I would talk him out of his decision and he didn't wish me to." Vanya's not sure whether that distinction would ever matter to anyone else, but it would make a difference to him. Still.
"Regardless. He left, and it was one more thing on a large pile in my misgivings about the Order. But I didn't resign until the Divine Election, about half a year later. When the call went out for an Exalted March, it was clear I couldn't go on wearing the Templar insignia but distancing myself from any of their work other than the Inquisition."
no subject
She ladles herself a bowl of stew, picks up a spoon. Comes nearer to Vanya to lean against an adjacent counter, steaming bowl clutched to her chest to ward off the ache of his story.
"No one thing," confirming, as she thought, "but a lot of smaller things."
Thoughtful and somber and not all that hungry, now it's come down to it, she pushes her spoon listlessly around her bowl... and chuckles.
"I seem to have miscalculated, haven't I?" It's kind of darkly comical just how badly, really. Her lips twist in a guilty mockery of a smile. "I'd intended it to be a, you know," she gestures to the hand pies in front of him, "a comfort, after a difficut conversation."
Somehow, though she really should have anticipated this, she'd underestimated quite how upsetting the whole topic was going to end up. It's not the end of the world, these things happen, sometimes people mistime kind gestures but that doesn't make them any less kindβ
"I understand if the subject has put you off food. I think they should keep til morning, at least? I'm not sure. I can try again another day, if..."
Ness trails off, realizing she's rambling. Her eyes meet his, briefly, before dropping back to her bowl.
"Gela and Cedric helped me. I wanted to do something as kind for you as all you've done for me."
no subject
"It is not as if these are things I never think of, and you brought them to the surface. It's true that it is rare I speak of them, but you've not put me off of food or unsettled me by asking. You are simply in a unique position. I've not had many people show genuine interest who weren't privy to parts of the story themselves. It's unusual to have to frame the entire thing as I have, but just because it was long and complicated doesn't mean that you've done anything amiss. Well," more gently, "unless I've upset you, which wasn't my intention."
no subject
"Not upset," she says after a moment, "It's, I wish none of it had happened to you. You're a good person who I admire, and I want the world to have been kinder to you. I don't like to imagine you in pain like that."
It occurs to her, suddenly, that maybe she's revealed too much. At least she's very likely overstepping. Or is that a normal thing to say, and she's the one making it weird? She meets Vanya's eyes for a brief moment, trying to quickly discern how he's taken that, before her embarrassment gets the better of her and she has to look away again, back to her bowl. Her cheeks are flushed, she can feel it, but maybe he can't tell in the firelight.
"Not upset, though. I'm grateful you'd tell me, it's not so unsatisfying an answer as you think."
π?
As she glances back down, he says, "I'm glad, then. And if you ever wish to speak of it again or if questions occur to you later, you needn't think of this as the only time we will ever discuss the topic. I can think of pleasanter ones, perhaps, but I also think ... if I were in your place, in a world strange to me, I would also wish to know more of it. Of the lives of people around me. You've only ever asked with kindness."
But at the same time, maybe they've both gone through enough of his past for one night, as the unspoken coda to his offer suggests.