dear_mun | (no subject)

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canon: kushiel universe

(no subject)

You are very kind to think of me, truly, but I would rather stay where you found me.

It is impossible to avoid your knowledge of my ultimate fate, and I would rather spend my last months with Anafiel than be torn off to some strange world where I know nothing and no one. I know that your kind has the reputation of cruelty, but I beg of you. Do not do this thing. I would rather die with him than live without him.

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...I think I know how you feel.

A little, anyway.

Do you? [He looks interested- not just out of politeness, but really curious about what Alastair has to say.]

[Alastair's a little bit startled by the interest, but he shrugs.]

I would have rather stayed with my sister through anything, but I was taken away anyway.

It is cruel to be forced to leave family. I'm sorry. Where were you taken?

[He wants to know about all the options, of course.]

A place called Asgard. Those who brought us there call themselves gods, and really there's no other way to describe them, though they're certainly not my gods.

Asgard... that's the home of the Skaldi gods, isn't it? How curious that they would bring you there.

[He doesn't know who the Skaldi are but that doesn't really matter.]

They say it's because they need us to bring color back to the city, but it's also because they need us to fight in their war.

[and that pisses him off. But his anger isn't one that he displays, it simmers deep, in a place where he shoves it away and tries to forget about it.]

And here I thought they valued fighting their own wars.

[He can say it without pain, truly he can. He barely remembers the Skaldi raid on his village.]

But that does not sound like a pleasant place. I don't think I could be a soldier. Not now.

[Which is bitterly ironic, knowing how he dies.]

Yeah, welcome to the goddamn club.

If you're lucky, she'll find your...Anafiel? And send you where he is.

[He's quiet.]

I thought I could. I was.

I had never killed anyone before.

[Now he's killed many. But it was a long battle.]

The only one there is is the one at home. Which, of course, means I have him all to myself... but not if I am taken.

That must have been hard. The poets speak of the glory of battle, but I know that it is not so.

[And he knows he'll kill before he dies, but he doesn't know yet what that will be like. He'll never have to live with it.]

[He snorts derisively.]

Either they don't know what they're talking about or they're incredibly twisted. Maybe both.

I think they have their reasons. People need heroes and stories, countries need legends. Their audiences would not want to know the truth of it.

It's nothing but a massive imbalance. It's horrible.

Is it? [He tilts his head, encouraging Alastair to go on.]

[He sighs. He's had to explain this many times now, but it's still strange to have to do so.]

Life and Death. Too much Death upsets the Balance, and Life suffers for it. Everything suffers.

...not that it seems to matter anywhere else but home.

[It makes no sense to him that such a fundamental part of how the world works could be just... gone everywhere else.]

My mentor once told me that sometimes after a battle, the ground grows rich from the blood shed on it.

[He does look queasy at the thought.]

Doesn't death contribute to life as well?

There's give and take on both sides, but too much of either isn't right. It's the same for Creation and Destruction.

You would know better than I. But you're right, war is... terrible. My land is a peaceful one, on the whole. We do not court it.

We didn't either, at home.

[But it arrived just the same. Though calling it war or a battle would suggest two parties fighting over time. That wasn't the case.]

[He can pick up the subtext.]

It can come without being called, though, can't it? I don't know how I should feel that I won't live to see it.

It can.

[He might have said something, but thoughts of his dead family silences him. They lived long enough to see its beginnings, but were spared the world it left behind. But Alastair can't be grateful for that.]

I'm sorry.

[It's quiet but sincere. He can tell that something he said struck a chord in Alastair.]

[This whole conversation has struck a chord with Alastair, one he tries very hard not to think about on a daily basis but generally fails at. He swallows and shakes his head.]

It's fine.

[It isn't, but he's at least convinced himself that it's not something others have to deal with. Just him.]

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