And before that she was a bard, who took no small delight in sculpting the Game in compliance with Marjolaine's whims.
( Dorothea had saved her from Marjolaine, from herself. But what is she sculpting herself into in service of Justinia and then the Inquisition? Her mouth snags into a scowl, brow furrowed. )
What of my faith? ( She turns on him then, temper peaked. ) The Maker asks all of us. Our blood - our lives. Nothing would seem to sate him.
( Later she will despise herself for this outburst, those weakness, but better in the presence of a friend than that of a stranger. ) If there is no dishonour in acting out of faith, then what say you of the mages taken from their mothers as children and dragged to the Circle under order of the Chantry? What of those who justify drawing blood as an act in the Maker's name? Is that not dishonour?
( And these questions, these doubts, they insult the very memories of Justinia and of Wynne, of all those who shared her faith and rejoiced in it, just as she has - does? She knows not. )
no subject
( Dorothea had saved her from Marjolaine, from herself. But what is she sculpting herself into in service of Justinia and then the Inquisition? Her mouth snags into a scowl, brow furrowed. )
What of my faith? ( She turns on him then, temper peaked. ) The Maker asks all of us. Our blood - our lives. Nothing would seem to sate him.
( Later she will despise herself for this outburst, those weakness, but better in the presence of a friend than that of a stranger. ) If there is no dishonour in acting out of faith, then what say you of the mages taken from their mothers as children and dragged to the Circle under order of the Chantry? What of those who justify drawing blood as an act in the Maker's name? Is that not dishonour?
( And these questions, these doubts, they insult the very memories of Justinia and of Wynne, of all those who shared her faith and rejoiced in it, just as she has - does? She knows not. )