exsilium | ⤛ o o 1 ⤜⤛ v i d e o ⤜

[ the image appears shaky at first - a sure result of complete ignorance on how to actually handle the blighted device - before it is moving to show an elf eying it with suspicious distaste. ]

I've questions. For those who've been here longer than I. [ he shifts, a subtle frown over his otherwise unreadably solemn expression; his tone is level and steeled, albeit sharp. ] What does this - Initiative expect us to do?

Fight their battles? I do not know what manner of magic - [ there's a twist to his lip that can only mark disgust. ] - they posses that was used to trap us here but -

They cannot win this war of their on their own without forcefully involving others. Yet some of you are quick enough to trust them, to think they will send us all back. Why? [ He sighs, bright olive eyes narrow, harden. ] They seek nothing but power to further their own gains. A situation I have seen far too often where I am from.

What have they made all of you do in your time here, I wonder?

[ There is a pause, then. A break. If he knew how to make a filter - if he knew what that was- he'd be making it right now.

A new expression passes his brows now - reminiscent of pain, though it appears as a flinch. his hand curls into a fist on the table he is sitting at. ] Hawke. I need to speak with you.

[ because pride stops him from openly asking for help he secretly may need. ]

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[ How about infuriatingly neutral points? Because he can already see that rivalry points won't get him very far with this one. Have some vague to compliment your earlier vague, Fenris. ]

Why does anyone use magic? That is a question we could spend all day discussing.

[ This one clearly knows what he's doing. ]

[ And yet Fenris will always try and find an answer to such questions. And spread his generic beliefs on the subject. Sorry. ]

Power? It is a means to achieve a personal gain, no matter the cost. I have seen far too many times to what extent magic corrupts. It makes it far too easy to turn to blood magic. Many only need a meager excuse.

[ He's made tougher sells before in his long, long life. A little resistance just makes the prize all the more enticing, the trophy all the more valuable.

And the carcass all the juicier by the end. ]

That may be true, but power is also a convenient means to an end. What is obtained selfishly can also be employed towards a selfless goal. A state grows into an empire, absorbing other, smaller territories in the process, but ultimately its reign is benevolent and just. Is this not power at its finest, its most efficient and its most successful?

[ Prestor leans forward, the insistence from earlier in his tone stronger now. ]

I need no excuses, nor do I make them. I produce results. And results originate from power, do they not?

Edited 2012-11-09 02:14 (UTC)

[ ...Sounds promising? ]

[ His scowl grows. Oh, wouldn't you fit right in with the Magisters. ] The selfish attain selfish goals. An entire Empire was built upon that. There was nothing benevolent in the sacrifices that were made for a single man's gain within it! Each would do anything for more, each trying to outdo the other. As long as one is given the means to attain more power, one will take it.

[ Scathingly: ] If you do not see this, then you are a bigger fool than I thought. [ A beat. One more seething remark, after this; he cannot help himself. ] Yet, you sound like you would have found great understanding amongst the Magisters of Tevinter. [ can you hear the hate? ]

[ He feels hate, each and every day, coursing through his body for millennia, but that makes Fenris' words no less cutting, impassioned and intense. And even though he disagrees, there is power in the soul of this individual, this young man, that he must have.

Why do you use your magic?

To destroy, of course.

Prestor's eyes narrow.

And I will destroy you, utterly. ]

I see your feelings are strong on this matter.

Who are you?

[ It is a question with deeper implications beyond simply asking for a name, which is easily obtained. He is asking for the story beneath that simmering rage, that temper capable of burning down a whole town if left unchecked. ]

[ Fenris hates that, which in essence, had made him what he is. It was in Tevinter that he received his lyrium markings. His so called 'power'. It had saved him, perhaps in its own twisted way - allowed him to escape. Allowed him to put an end to the master that had hounded his tracks for years.

But it has also given him hate. At times, it seemed like there was too much of it; a sort of hate that can make one blind, can consume.]

I am someone who has seen first hand what the desire for power can do. What you seem to call a just reign I saw as slavery and sacrifice, driven by blood magic.

[ His lip curls into a near snarl - perhaps 'Fenris' is indeed a fitting name for him. ] So yes, I do 'feel strongly' on this matter.

[ But you won't be getting the details of the story from him. ]

[ And Deathwing can see them both, the rage flowing through his eyes and the marks of lyrium flowing through his skin. One who had seen the worst of humanity and little of its best, which bodes well for his cause. He would be easily twisted, easily turned against it. An easy pawn to acquire.

It would still require effort, however, and not the approach he is currently taking, so he dials himself down to something more humble, more apologetic. ]

I did not know of this. I am sorry for it. Slavery, unnecessary sacrifice, or anything of the sort are not my intentions.

[ Prestor's eyes soften behind the screen. ]

We are shaped by our experiences, for better or worse. It is a shame the world has only shown you its darkest side.

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