I've never seen anyone cast magic that powerful. I thought with the Veil so thin here, it would trouble you more, especially when casting something so powerful. When I...saw the blood on your hands, I thought...but that was so little blood, that couldn't have been the reason your shard never flared. I don't understand it.
[Sina smiles, not that Pel can hear it; she's silent for a time before answering.]
It's a tool, [she says carefully,] like a knife. Put in the wrong hands it can cause death and mayhem. In the right hands it can shape and prepare. [Her reticence is audible, but it's Pel, and if she doesn't understand, no one will.]
We helped the vhenandahl grow in Halamshiral, [she explains,] Galadriel, Thranduil, Merrill, Velanna, and myself. Trace amounts of blood were used, not to call on spirits, but to provide additional life force. It wouldn't have grown otherwise. I do the same thing with plants, siphoning life out of one and into another.
[That gets a bit of pause. Pel's voice comes back a little louder.]
I trust you with power like that. It's probably safer for you than normal magic, if the garden was any indication. But growing one tree with a group of other blood mages sounds a terribly pointless risk and I'd do you a disservice not to point it out. The vhenadahl doesn't come from us, the Dalish, with or without blood to grow it. It springs from the city elves, they plant it and water it and it's their own way of remembering who they are. It's supposed to come from their life. I'm sorry, it's a tangent, I'm not exactly qualified to speak on behalf of city elves, but--
[She deflates, hearing the hypocrisy in her own words. What's the difference between the vhenadahl and the Chantry garden? What makes some meddling good and the rest of the meddling bad?]
Did we do the right thing? Why didn't we ask the Viscount for his permission? I've had a Templar asking me these questions and I'd like to know what to say.
[Sina holds the crystal slightly away from her, wincing. When she speaks again, however, she sounds good-natured as ever.]
Did anyone ask permission before building the Winter Palace? [Her voice is devoid of rancor, even pleasant.] And that was just for them. This is for everyone. That doesn't mean they want it, and it certainly grew much larger than I intended. But I'm not sorry. The forest will feed Kirkwall indefinitely, and choosing to interpret its existence as an act of aggression is simply ignorance.
[She pauses.]
...and you should know better, Pel. The city elves are of us, just as being born outclan doesn't make da'Sina any less elvhen. Our blood is their blood and vice versa. If anything, we owe them our assistance more than ever.
[There is no anger in Pel right now, only fear. But there is always fear, and sometimes it sounds much like anger in anyone else. Sina likely knows the difference.]
Assistance is rebuilding houses, pulling corpses out of water so they can get on with their lives and their traditions. Their traditions. It's not blood-magicking a tree where one would've grown of its own accord through completely non-magical means.
Assistance which we also gave them, lethallan. We didn't spend the entire trip growing a tree. [It was done in the night, not unlike the garden situation.]
Surely you don't deny that symbols are important. What we grew was not just any tree, but a tree that cannot be burned and will never die. [At least that's how the ancient elves had explained it.]
I recognize that what's happened is a problem, that there are some who are angry about it, and I recognize that it's my responsibility to deal with it. And I shall.
No, that's--no. [The air goes out of her.] I stand by you with what we've done. All I want is for you to be careful. For all I know, the citizens of Halamshiral absolutely love your tree and the citizens of Kirkwall will come around. Just be judicious in the future, vhenan. The more of these extraordinary incidents that happen, the more people will be able connect it all to you. And I'm not losing you.
[A long silence follows. Sina hasn't been shocked into it, but there is an air of not knowing what to say, of omission. How to approach.... no. She takes a shuddering breath, and concludes with a defeated:] I will.
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The garden?
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[Awkward pause.]
Sina? When we were casting, your shard wasn't giving you any trouble.
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[She seems a bit confused by the statement.]
Not that I recall, no.
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It's a tool, [she says carefully,] like a knife. Put in the wrong hands it can cause death and mayhem. In the right hands it can shape and prepare. [Her reticence is audible, but it's Pel, and if she doesn't understand, no one will.]
We helped the vhenandahl grow in Halamshiral, [she explains,] Galadriel, Thranduil, Merrill, Velanna, and myself. Trace amounts of blood were used, not to call on spirits, but to provide additional life force. It wouldn't have grown otherwise. I do the same thing with plants, siphoning life out of one and into another.
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I trust you with power like that. It's probably safer for you than normal magic, if the garden was any indication. But growing one tree with a group of other blood mages sounds a terribly pointless risk and I'd do you a disservice not to point it out. The vhenadahl doesn't come from us, the Dalish, with or without blood to grow it. It springs from the city elves, they plant it and water it and it's their own way of remembering who they are. It's supposed to come from their life. I'm sorry, it's a tangent, I'm not exactly qualified to speak on behalf of city elves, but--
[She deflates, hearing the hypocrisy in her own words. What's the difference between the vhenadahl and the Chantry garden? What makes some meddling good and the rest of the meddling bad?]
Did we do the right thing? Why didn't we ask the Viscount for his permission? I've had a Templar asking me these questions and I'd like to know what to say.
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Did anyone ask permission before building the Winter Palace? [Her voice is devoid of rancor, even pleasant.] And that was just for them. This is for everyone.
That doesn't mean they want it, and it certainly grew much larger than I intended. But I'm not sorry. The forest will feed Kirkwall indefinitely, and choosing to interpret its existence as an act of aggression is simply ignorance.
[She pauses.]
...and you should know better, Pel. The city elves are of us, just as being born outclan doesn't make da'Sina any less elvhen. Our blood is their blood and vice versa. If anything, we owe them our assistance more than ever.
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Assistance is rebuilding houses, pulling corpses out of water so they can get on with their lives and their traditions. Their traditions. It's not blood-magicking a tree where one would've grown of its own accord through completely non-magical means.
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Surely you don't deny that symbols are important. What we grew was not just any tree, but a tree that cannot be burned and will never die. [At least that's how the ancient elves had explained it.]
I recognize that what's happened is a problem, that there are some who are angry about it, and I recognize that it's my responsibility to deal with it. And I shall.
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