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[metalica]

[ The post comes across with a name that, really, no one will recognise. It's one word, simple: ＡＤＬＥＲ. Thank goodness for the text option so he has no need to attempt to hide his voice or face; for now his name is enough. ]

Tell me about your world. Your wars. Your powers. Tell me about the things that you fight for, what you continue to cherish even here.

Educate me.

Comments

text.

[metalica]

The fact that we are in a new conflict all of our own, right here. We all have something we fight for. A passion, for our own kind or otherwise. I'm curious to see if there are any that share my ideals.

text.

[noirant]

Is it truthfully our own? I admit myself labouring under the impression that it was a treasured possession of our hosts. Far be it from me to rob a cause from its rightful instigators.

[ 'Our own kind' is a phrase seldom uttered in any pleasant capacity. Behind the screen, Felix's eyebrows lift. ]

Are your ideals salamanders, to shrink from the light? Have forth with them, and I'm certain all will soon tell you true. Were opinions bread, none would go hungry.

text.

[metalica]

We are here and we are asked to fight. To refuse can cause some pain, so I've heard. I'd hate for anyone to suffer.

[ hah. ]

You are quite the poet, my friend.

text; private.

[noirant]

[ Felix considers a moment, then locks the post. ]

Call me an idealist, but I've never found the avoidance of pain particularly inspirational. It's not enough to merely manage an infection. Sometimes the limb must be severed in whole.

In truth, I've never had much faculty with the written word. A terrible lack of patience. And you, Mademoiselle?

[ Adler may be a female name in Marathat... ]

text; private.

[metalica]

Sometimes pain is the only solution. To suffer is to understand, and so on. I've heard rumours of the monarchy and their reactions to those that decide they'd rather not be a pawn in this grand game -- it was hardly plesant.

I would rather read than write.

text; private.

[noirant]

Your discretion does you well, though thus far I’ve seen them cleft closer to carrot than stick. Rewards for assistance, rather than punishments for those who abstain; though of course, the gifts of an abductor cannot be considered freely-given.

Are you a woman of very great understanding?

text; private.

[metalica]

I can only but try. I would not want to be the one that dares spread lies and slander - quite the opposite. I want only the truth.

I would like to think so.

text; private.

[noirant]

[ To suffer is to understand. Easier to claim than to countenance, but for the time being, he’s willing to take this conversation for a certain degree of face value. There are some things that it does no one well to doubt; and certainly, she answers as one truthfully-spoken. ]

And what would you dare for that truth?

text; private.

[metalica]

That depends what people would ask of me.

text; private.

[noirant]

The courts will ask favours, small and grand; perhaps the greatest of these is that you keep hold of the shard of gem that they claim sticks lodged in your being. Terribly gaudy for your innards, I can't think it does wonders for the digestion.

I'd ask a quiet tongue and an attempt at frank discourse. Others may ask your friendship, or riches, or just the pleasure of a smile. But you know that already, and whatever hollow advice I repeat matters little.

What would you ask of yourself? What are you willing to give to it?

Hypotheticals. They're like rats -- or actors -- completely useless, breeding everywhere, and impossible to keep out. Drop me a line if you'd ever care to chat, Mademoiselle. Until then, I wish you the best of discernment.