[Galadriel listened with as much care as she was able, but the idioms and terminology that littered the speech of humans were often beyond her. She addressed those that she could find, but not all of them were notable enough to draw her attention. As Adelaide explained how the corrupted became more earthly, something struck the elf as odd. The concept wasn't unfamiliar, not on whole, and perhaps that was why she caught it--]
When you are at peace, you are disconnected from the Fade?
[It seemed like a truly arbitrary thing and was out of place in this conversation. The idea that reaching for the Fade took effort was not so curious, but the idea that calm would break any bonds to the Fade was perplexing. Emotion had its place, particularly in works of fëa, but for simple tranquility to part them from the realm that gave them power?]
Are all of your skills fed by strong emotion?
[If that was the case, why had her rage and fury not forced a connection? She had certainly been emotional.]
That is how it sounds, isn't it? Tranquil are just that. Tranquil- but not in the manner of someone at peace. They feel nothing. They cannot. They do not dream, they do not feel joy or anger, do not feel desire or fear. Sever a mage's connection from the Fade and they become someone- something else. They cannot cast- they cannot ignore an order as given. Their will is no longer quite their own for they have no desire to motivate themselves.
[ It was a horrible fate for anyone too afraid to endure the Harrowing. Something one of her dearest friends chose. The last thing he chose. ]
You do not need emotion to work with the fade- but they do play into one another. If it were merely a question of that anyone could use magic. There is an inherent connection bound by emotion- feeling too strongly may entice demons to you; maintaining focus, calm, and control while casting so you shape the world to your will as you intend rather than losing control is important.
[She was silent and stricken as she considered Adelaide's descriptions. Their conversation had turned, she had certainly aided in that, and had quickly become much more taxing. Her curiosity had been greater than the risk, at least at first, but this knowledge was too much. It was a simple thing, another aspect of these lands, but it was one shadow too many and she had passed her tolerance. She shifted and sagged back heavily against the chair beneath her.
The oldest song was thrust upon warriors, demons could be spawned with barely an effort, twisted from the remains of simple spirits, Tranquility was a curse, and...if she had not misheard, it could be a fate inflicted upon others. A will could simply be broken apart.
Where had she come? What cruel threads pulled at this place to make it so?
Weariness crept into her tone and replaced the confusion that had been there before. Truly, she didn't wish to know, but naivete was untenable. She had to ask, it was important.]
Not everyone can use magic?
[The term was still broad, too broad for comfort, but it was equal to the question. Certainly, not all races shared the same penchant for wielding power, but each had something about them that could be called magic. Each soul had power, it was merely a question of proportion...wasn't it?]
[ Adelaide peered up to Galadriel, frowning at how all of this seemed to distress her. What sort of world did she come from that anyone might have this power? That losing it wasn't a risk, that they weren't some manner of danger to those around them?
It must be a kind world. A brighter one. ]
Only a few. Humans, Elves, Qunari. Dwarves cannot reach the fade in the way we do- I don't know why but they cannot.
[When it had been meaningless nomenclature, she hadn't thought much on it. It was akin to calling someone a smith, a weaver, a ringbearer, a wizard. It was some notation added onto what one was...but, no, it wasn't. To be a mage was to have something that others did not.
Suddenly quite a few of the things she'd been told about Thedas made far, far too much sense. The way they'd been looked upon, the accusation of being demonic, even the vague suspicions of the guard took on new shades of meaning.
Her eyes were closed. When she frowned the expression was tight and wooden.]
I would weep for your world, if I could, but I fear I might never stop. [She let out a short breath and her expression evened as she opened her eyes.] I am sorry, I am speaking unkindly. Perhaps it is not so terrible as it seems to me; I cannot imagine a lack of...I know not how to describe it.
At least, I imagine, you do not have the wealth of terrible danger that has walked Arda...though I see echoes of some of them, I have not felt the shadow in these lands.
[ There was something else, here, that distressed Galadriel. As close as they were, as in tune with her song as she and Compassion had been earlier? The twist was as easy to feel as a knife in the ribs. Compassion was weary and dazed but the dull glow rippled over her skin like the shimmer of light across water. Adelaide shook it off. The urge to comfort was there, to soothe, but there was no need to pour more power into her friend.
Magic had done all that could be done. All that could be offered now? Contact and words. Adelaide reached up to rest a hand on top of Galadriel's, less uncertain than usual. Too weary to let the ghosts of the Spire leave her afraid. ]
It is as it is- and all we have ever known. I am...sorry that you have fallen here. The world you come from must be a kinder place. [ Though at the idea of the lack of danger- well. She snorts. ] That depends entirely on where it is you look. Most dangers come from demons or darkspawn or plague to be certain- but...we do terrible enough things to one another here without their help. I do not know if that makes it better or worse. But if all we have to fear are other men? I think I will take that and take it gladly.
[Adelaide's touch was not unwelcome, quite the opposite in fact, but it was unexpected. Galadriel looked down at her hand, where it rested atop hers, and considered the woman briefly.
The bitterness in her tone, the derision in her snort, they were impossible to miss, even without reading her heart. Adelaide had seen much darkness, too much for one mortal soul, but mortal souls did not collapse under the weight of such things. In that way, she was stronger than Galadriel would ever be, but it was a poor sentiment to offer.
She did not need to know how wrong she was.]
Do not apologize. [Galadriel settled her other hand across Adelaide's and her own, and squeezed it gently--weakly, but there was little difference between the two.] You have given me more hope than you know. To learn about a world, any world, is to learn of darkness and despair. Finding light in it is a gift, one that I have been granted and appreciate.
[Her expression didn't pull into a smile, she was too tired and grieved for such things, but the calm on her face was not so fraught as it had been.]
If I could, I would teach you to read the darkness in the hearts of men, but I cannot manage it myself. Often it is harrowing but...very rarely is any one of them truly something to fear.
Even this Warden...his blood was poisoned but his heart sang of beauty and butterflies. [She sighed quietly, her tone still laced with some measure of disbelief.] Butterflies, of all things.
[ What was there that she might say to that? It is a small thing, too small for the grief that Galadriel felt but some of that ache seemed to ease. At least enough that Compassion was not quite so distressed by it any longer. The world was as it was- Adelaide had never truly feared the dark for she always had the light of Compassion at hand. Others walked through shadow deeper and darker than she could ever understand- and did so on their own.
But it seemed to help. However much or little it had been? It helped. Even if she wasn't all that certain what light Galadriel found.
Did she mean her?
That-
She wasn't-
Moving on. Thinking on that while weary and befuddled wouldn't lead to anything productive. The use of the word harrowing was- for a moment, followed by a faint frown- but it was not what Galadriel meant. It was difficult to divorce the word from the act.
Perhaps she would wait on explaining that particular detail of existence to her. Leave it for another day. ]
Well...they are quite lovely, I suppose. And those that walk in darkness have more reason than most to think of what they find beautiful.
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no subject
When you are at peace, you are disconnected from the Fade?
[It seemed like a truly arbitrary thing and was out of place in this conversation. The idea that reaching for the Fade took effort was not so curious, but the idea that calm would break any bonds to the Fade was perplexing. Emotion had its place, particularly in works of fëa, but for simple tranquility to part them from the realm that gave them power?]
Are all of your skills fed by strong emotion?
[If that was the case, why had her rage and fury not forced a connection? She had certainly been emotional.]
no subject
[ It was a horrible fate for anyone too afraid to endure the Harrowing. Something one of her dearest friends chose. The last thing he chose. ]
You do not need emotion to work with the fade- but they do play into one another. If it were merely a question of that anyone could use magic. There is an inherent connection bound by emotion- feeling too strongly may entice demons to you; maintaining focus, calm, and control while casting so you shape the world to your will as you intend rather than losing control is important.
no subject
The oldest song was thrust upon warriors, demons could be spawned with barely an effort, twisted from the remains of simple spirits, Tranquility was a curse, and...if she had not misheard, it could be a fate inflicted upon others. A will could simply be broken apart.
Where had she come? What cruel threads pulled at this place to make it so?
Weariness crept into her tone and replaced the confusion that had been there before. Truly, she didn't wish to know, but naivete was untenable. She had to ask, it was important.]
Not everyone can use magic?
[The term was still broad, too broad for comfort, but it was equal to the question. Certainly, not all races shared the same penchant for wielding power, but each had something about them that could be called magic. Each soul had power, it was merely a question of proportion...wasn't it?]
no subject
[ Adelaide peered up to Galadriel, frowning at how all of this seemed to distress her. What sort of world did she come from that anyone might have this power? That losing it wasn't a risk, that they weren't some manner of danger to those around them?
It must be a kind world. A brighter one. ]
Only a few. Humans, Elves, Qunari. Dwarves cannot reach the fade in the way we do- I don't know why but they cannot.
no subject
[When it had been meaningless nomenclature, she hadn't thought much on it. It was akin to calling someone a smith, a weaver, a ringbearer, a wizard. It was some notation added onto what one was...but, no, it wasn't. To be a mage was to have something that others did not.
Suddenly quite a few of the things she'd been told about Thedas made far, far too much sense. The way they'd been looked upon, the accusation of being demonic, even the vague suspicions of the guard took on new shades of meaning.
Her eyes were closed. When she frowned the expression was tight and wooden.]
I would weep for your world, if I could, but I fear I might never stop. [She let out a short breath and her expression evened as she opened her eyes.] I am sorry, I am speaking unkindly. Perhaps it is not so terrible as it seems to me; I cannot imagine a lack of...I know not how to describe it.
At least, I imagine, you do not have the wealth of terrible danger that has walked Arda...though I see echoes of some of them, I have not felt the shadow in these lands.
no subject
[ There was something else, here, that distressed Galadriel. As close as they were, as in tune with her song as she and Compassion had been earlier? The twist was as easy to feel as a knife in the ribs. Compassion was weary and dazed but the dull glow rippled over her skin like the shimmer of light across water. Adelaide shook it off. The urge to comfort was there, to soothe, but there was no need to pour more power into her friend.
Magic had done all that could be done. All that could be offered now? Contact and words. Adelaide reached up to rest a hand on top of Galadriel's, less uncertain than usual. Too weary to let the ghosts of the Spire leave her afraid. ]
It is as it is- and all we have ever known. I am...sorry that you have fallen here. The world you come from must be a kinder place. [ Though at the idea of the lack of danger- well. She snorts. ] That depends entirely on where it is you look. Most dangers come from demons or darkspawn or plague to be certain- but...we do terrible enough things to one another here without their help. I do not know if that makes it better or worse. But if all we have to fear are other men? I think I will take that and take it gladly.
no subject
The bitterness in her tone, the derision in her snort, they were impossible to miss, even without reading her heart. Adelaide had seen much darkness, too much for one mortal soul, but mortal souls did not collapse under the weight of such things. In that way, she was stronger than Galadriel would ever be, but it was a poor sentiment to offer.
She did not need to know how wrong she was.]
Do not apologize. [Galadriel settled her other hand across Adelaide's and her own, and squeezed it gently--weakly, but there was little difference between the two.] You have given me more hope than you know. To learn about a world, any world, is to learn of darkness and despair. Finding light in it is a gift, one that I have been granted and appreciate.
[Her expression didn't pull into a smile, she was too tired and grieved for such things, but the calm on her face was not so fraught as it had been.]
If I could, I would teach you to read the darkness in the hearts of men, but I cannot manage it myself. Often it is harrowing but...very rarely is any one of them truly something to fear.
Even this Warden...his blood was poisoned but his heart sang of beauty and butterflies. [She sighed quietly, her tone still laced with some measure of disbelief.] Butterflies, of all things.
no subject
But it seemed to help. However much or little it had been? It helped. Even if she wasn't all that certain what light Galadriel found.
Did she mean her?
That-
She wasn't-
Moving on. Thinking on that while weary and befuddled wouldn't lead to anything productive. The use of the word harrowing was- for a moment, followed by a faint frown- but it was not what Galadriel meant. It was difficult to divorce the word from the act.
Perhaps she would wait on explaining that particular detail of existence to her. Leave it for another day. ]
Well...they are quite lovely, I suppose. And those that walk in darkness have more reason than most to think of what they find beautiful.