I have seen elderly Men grow foggy, think themselves younger. This is seems the same, but brought on sooner. Are they healthy besides? Does the Chantry mind them, or are they often lost?
[ well, that's something to work with, but he has no reason to interact with that one, and will use intermediaries if needed. but that he was misplaced with de cedoux-- she is as mild-mannered as cream and a lady to her bones. the most inoffensive rifter of them all.
he inhales, prepares to indulge. she cannot fear him more than she does. ]
You must understand some things about us to understand why. Our history is more real than yours; we are old, we are born knowing. There are no half-remembered things, no differing recollections. We know how everything came to be because we speak with those who were there, those who served the One who sang the Music that made all things, those who sang alongside Him.
One of those who sang desired to change the Music, to gain control, to create and to corrupt. He sang in discord, and from this, all awful things were made, and all wretched things carry the echo of that discord. The Quendi were made pure, uncorrupted, unending and eternal. We are the Song, we know the Song, hear it, and through knowing it are able to-- move within in. To sculpt creation on our own.
[ a pause. ]
It is too complicated. You could not understand. But because we know what the harmony ought to be, we know when it is disturbed. When something moves with malice, with evil, with impurity. Something about lyrium itself is distasteful. It-- sings a tune all its own, but it is not wrong, merely unnerving. The red is-- it festers. It is discord.
no subject
[ well, that's something to work with, but he has no reason to interact with that one, and will use intermediaries if needed. but that he was misplaced with de cedoux-- she is as mild-mannered as cream and a lady to her bones. the most inoffensive rifter of them all.
he inhales, prepares to indulge. she cannot fear him more than she does. ]
You must understand some things about us to understand why. Our history is more real than yours; we are old, we are born knowing. There are no half-remembered things, no differing recollections. We know how everything came to be because we speak with those who were there, those who served the One who sang the Music that made all things, those who sang alongside Him.
One of those who sang desired to change the Music, to gain control, to create and to corrupt. He sang in discord, and from this, all awful things were made, and all wretched things carry the echo of that discord. The Quendi were made pure, uncorrupted, unending and eternal. We are the Song, we know the Song, hear it, and through knowing it are able to-- move within in. To sculpt creation on our own.
[ a pause. ]
It is too complicated. You could not understand. But because we know what the harmony ought to be, we know when it is disturbed. When something moves with malice, with evil, with impurity. Something about lyrium itself is distasteful. It-- sings a tune all its own, but it is not wrong, merely unnerving. The red is-- it festers. It is discord.