Cedric considers that. No, he doesn't have to be here. Isn't entirely clear why they are, for all that he knows a few things.
(Who, precisely, told an outsider of the meeting. Who chose not to speak their suspicions aloud. Which others took to arguing while there were demons loose -)
"'Course I do," It's this or Keen, and Barrow less like to shove him off the roof at present. His expression sobers a little, to add: "You aren't the only one knows Rowntree's name."
Or seen the slag in his wake. If they can't have solidarity on that guy, it's a lost fucking cause.
"All right, lad," he murmurs, clearly warming to him, "but no one's out here to start a faction war." At least not amongst themselves. At least... probably not.
He draws a pre-rolled cigarette out from a little box in his belt pouch, using the Riftwatch-issued runestone to light it.
"Mages've been through a lot. They get tetchy sometimes, who can blame them." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself as much as Carsus.
"Everyone's been through a lot," The Gallows was a special kind of bad. He knows. Still - name someone on the continent hasn't had a shit few years. "Sometimes it makes you a real ass."
He stretches, yawns. Almost leaves it there. But,
"We could've done better," Quiet, as if anyone's out at this hour to hear. His eyes cut to Barrow: "Not you, I mean. You and Orlov were incredible. But all of us, we need to do better."
Barrow can't help but laugh again at Cedric's directness-- it's refreshing, feels a little bit like misbehaving, even if he knows deep down it's not the most useful attitude to encourage in this place.
"We will." He claps him lightly on the shoulder, reassuring, "it's a fresh start, this. There'll always be growing pains."
Looking out at the dark water of the harbor, the winking lights of the city beyond, Barrow feels a quietude come over him; this may not have been what he thought he wanted, but it's hard to imagine anything being happier anywhere else. Graveyard shift or not.
"You can't have even been in the Order that long," he gently observes, after a time, "what could you possibly have to answer for?"
It means something else now. Those six weeks in the Circle (already tense, its edges fraying) look another life. He'd wager he's seen more action than some of the senior knights took in a career.
There's a hand on his shoulder. There have been so many.
It's a certain kind of pleasure, that smell off the sea: Vast and stinking with life. In the Plains, his nose always tasted like iron. It's nice up here. Quiet. Maybe that's what finally pulls it out,
"Dunno how much you saw of the March," Can't say when Barrow left the Order, doesn't recall spying him in Riftwatch's camp. "But it feels like running in place."
Is that it? Maybe. Maybe not all of it. Trevis was ugly -
"I want to have an answer. When we're called, I mean to have something to say."
"That I gave it all I had," The Anchor-light isn't visible beneath gauntlet. He flexes the hand anyway, unconscious. "That this wasn't a waste."
Everyone thinks about it: What else they'd do, if they'd done different. What if he'd stayed in the Alienage, found a labourer's job? He'd only have found himself a conscript or a refugee. Else quit lyrium, and taken his leave of Broward? A vagrant without ties or trade.
With a mouth still to feed.
A hundred ways to end up in the exact same place - with less training. With little support. If Barrow's seen a fair amount, he knows it, what it is to be outside fortune. The reality of that division.
"We've been given so much. What's it worth unless we use it?"
Barrow's smile is gentle, fond, perhaps a little proud: the kids are all right, at least sometimes. It's strange to see someone in boots he occupied decades ago, making the same sorts of decisions, asking the same questions, and ultimately doing a far better job of it.
"You're in the right place, then," he says gently, "I hope it deserves you."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2024-03-30 01:41 am (UTC)(Who, precisely, told an outsider of the meeting. Who chose not to speak their suspicions aloud. Which others took to arguing while there were demons loose -)
"'Course I do," It's this or Keen, and Barrow less like to shove him off the roof at present. His expression sobers a little, to add: "You aren't the only one knows Rowntree's name."
Or seen the slag in his wake. If they can't have solidarity on that guy, it's a lost fucking cause.
no subject
Date: 2024-03-30 03:14 am (UTC)"All right, lad," he murmurs, clearly warming to him, "but no one's out here to start a faction war." At least not amongst themselves. At least... probably not.
He draws a pre-rolled cigarette out from a little box in his belt pouch, using the Riftwatch-issued runestone to light it.
"Mages've been through a lot. They get tetchy sometimes, who can blame them." He sounds like he's trying to convince himself as much as Carsus.
no subject
Date: 2024-04-01 06:06 am (UTC)He stretches, yawns. Almost leaves it there. But,
"We could've done better," Quiet, as if anyone's out at this hour to hear. His eyes cut to Barrow: "Not you, I mean. You and Orlov were incredible. But all of us, we need to do better."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-01 06:29 pm (UTC)"We will." He claps him lightly on the shoulder, reassuring, "it's a fresh start, this. There'll always be growing pains."
Looking out at the dark water of the harbor, the winking lights of the city beyond, Barrow feels a quietude come over him; this may not have been what he thought he wanted, but it's hard to imagine anything being happier anywhere else. Graveyard shift or not.
"You can't have even been in the Order that long," he gently observes, after a time, "what could you possibly have to answer for?"
no subject
Date: 2024-04-02 07:55 pm (UTC)It means something else now. Those six weeks in the Circle (already tense, its edges fraying) look another life. He'd wager he's seen more action than some of the senior knights took in a career.
There's a hand on his shoulder. There have been so many.
It's a certain kind of pleasure, that smell off the sea: Vast and stinking with life. In the Plains, his nose always tasted like iron. It's nice up here. Quiet. Maybe that's what finally pulls it out,
"Dunno how much you saw of the March," Can't say when Barrow left the Order, doesn't recall spying him in Riftwatch's camp. "But it feels like running in place."
Is that it? Maybe. Maybe not all of it. Trevis was ugly -
"I want to have an answer. When we're called, I mean to have something to say."
no subject
Date: 2024-04-02 09:52 pm (UTC)"Seen a fair amount," he admits quietly, almost underneath Cedric's next statement, which has him raising his eyebrows.
"What sort of something?"
no subject
Date: 2024-04-02 11:22 pm (UTC)"That I gave it all I had," The Anchor-light isn't visible beneath gauntlet. He flexes the hand anyway, unconscious. "That this wasn't a waste."
Everyone thinks about it: What else they'd do, if they'd done different. What if he'd stayed in the Alienage, found a labourer's job? He'd only have found himself a conscript or a refugee. Else quit lyrium, and taken his leave of Broward? A vagrant without ties or trade.
With a mouth still to feed.
A hundred ways to end up in the exact same place - with less training. With little support. If Barrow's seen a fair amount, he knows it, what it is to be outside fortune. The reality of that division.
"We've been given so much. What's it worth unless we use it?"
What are any of them worth?
no subject
Date: 2024-04-03 08:19 pm (UTC)Barrow's smile is gentle, fond, perhaps a little proud: the kids are all right, at least sometimes. It's strange to see someone in boots he occupied decades ago, making the same sorts of decisions, asking the same questions, and ultimately doing a far better job of it.
"You're in the right place, then," he says gently, "I hope it deserves you."