attitude to a miss [r]

it has been years since she has recieved the wisdom of vir tanadhal from a keeper or a first, but even alya can recall the first law of andruil. let not your prey suffer. the humans had been aggressive, and the elves hesitant. alya learned to accept that history with time. or she had thought that she did. there is such a thing such as survival of the fittest, and then there are those who would rather profit from a story that should have had an ending long ago.

history never ends, not in the way that anyone wants it to.

at the mention of 'tevinter' and 'slavers', alya is already stepping forward, her longsword strapped firmly onto her back. she does not draw it - not yet. that would be a hasty sign of aggression that she has mistakenly exercised only too often in the past. besides, her fists should work just as well for a human. not everything is quite as hard-wearing as a darkspawn, and alya takes care not to forget.

"i hope for your sake and theirs that you aren't the tevinters that they're talking about." her voice is a practiced calm, but it still has bite to it. the bite that comes from the thin edge of a shard of ice. "i try not to base everything on a first impression, y'hear?"

the two desperately avoid meeting the woman's eyes. running away in the presence of a mage was never the smartest idea.
Decima Avaris

if the woman had intended to unsettle alya by making her feel like a piece of meat, then it wasn't working very well. not for a soldier whose life had been devoted to fighting monsters who were literally looking to take a bite out of her.

or at least, that's what the warden tells herself. the truth is, she thinks that she would prefer the darkspawn to this woman. this woman, who is a perfectly sentient being. this woman who has the mental capacity to not be an asshole, but chooses wrongly anyway.

"you're not a..." she doesn't want to believe, but the fear of the elves behind her tell her more than the woman's silence ever will. alya snarls and retrieves her greatsword, pretenses of civility be damned. "i would like to see you try, you sorry piece of shit" more than the tevinter knows, really. alya is only too eager to use the self-defense clause as an excuse to bust some heads. she slams the blade into the ground, knocking loose a few of the older brick. "really, i would. do your worst. i'll even remove the breastplate if you need any more of a handicap."

she does not belong to the wardens. she doesn't belong to anyone, and she'll be damned if she walks away from this part of the highway now. at this moment, she's glad that she's an elf. she's glad that nothing in the world gets on most humans' nerves than an elf who thinks that she's better than them. alya is glad that she is able to taunt them like this. 

the elves seem to regain enough of their composure to remember that they're supposed to be on the run. they turn around and attempt to escape while the adults are having a conversation. 
Decima Avaris

alya curses and thinks about the last time that the templar order called for her to join them. maybe they did have something of a point with all the malificarum about. neutrality be dammed, this isn't actually politics. not wanting to watch a couple of elves destroy themselves in their pursuit of freedom is certainly not a political statement.

while this isn't the usual attitude that alya would adopt, she knows that there isn't another option. she spreads cleanse in their vicinity, and the elves can finally stop coughing up blood in their struggle to throw the magister off.

"creator's mercy, are you seriously telling me that folks in tevinter can't even hold a straight conversation without turning someone into a pincushion?" she doesn't even bother keeping the disgust out of her voice. it's all talk, and she knows is. the slavers probably know it too. alya's seen the treatment of the servants in ferelden homes, and for elves to actually take on the formal status of a slave -- where is the magister's hesitation? these are people, not darkspawn. "how'd you two escape, anyway?"

the escapees are still shaking as they recover from having their motor functions seized from them. watching them, alya is eternally grateful that she never had the misfortune of being born in tevinter. the woman swallows the bit of blood that she's coughed up and speaks. "m-my lady. my husband had escaped, but he came back for us. he came back to free us both, and the humans killed him for it--" a shuddering breath. "we've been running for hours along the imperial highway -- please, we can't. we can't let his sacrifice be for nothing" 

that hits a little too close to home for a dalish elf whose entire clan was sacrificed so that she may get away. she can't actually do the things she wants to do - she can't simply run the slavers through with her sword, no matter how much she wants to. alya isn't about to say it outright, not in front of these people. she will not show weakness.

(except it is weakness)

these elves do not understand that this warden is not here to help them. these elves see the greatsword in her hands and do not understand that it does not represent strength. not in all the ways that truly matter. 

Decima Avaris

decima's words might have rushed her into a decision, once upon a time. at the same time, she cannot deny the urgency in the situation. people are depending on her, she has to make the right one--

"warden, please help us--" the woman begs, and alya does her best to shut her out. she remembers the words of the former constable. your heart will not always make the best decision. what is the best decision? alya had asked with full defiance in her words. what could triumph the desires of her conscience?

a decision that you will not lose sleep over, he tells her. a decision built to last.

a luxury item if there ever was one, alya thinks. 

"you forget, slaver." she grits out. "it is not the wardens who have a debt to fill. it is the rest of the world that enjoys the fruits of our sacrifice."

the wardens simply did not barter and trade. not in the way that tevinter slavers did. alya does not know what will come out of her actions. all she can do is say the words, and understand that she had done what she believed was right. 

"i hereby invoke the right of conscription on this man." she allows the silence to be drawn out, to fill the words that alya is not willing to say. the eyes of the slave and the ex-slave widen. the woman is too frightened to even ask the question that hangs over their heads. "you cannot touch him, now that i have seen how his resourcefulness will benefit the fereldan wardens."

"and my sister?" the man finally dredges up his courage. "will you not spare her as well?" as if their bondage was alya's to control. in a way, they were. they would have been, if she had been simply alya karimi, girl of a dalish clan. she would have controlled their fates with glee, cutting down these slavers with relish.

alya struggles to control her tone. "not in good conscience, i cannot." she isn't even saving the man. for all she knows, she could be sending him to an early grave. all alya knows is that she could not bear to walk away and have done nothing, even if it meant that the woman might receive a harsher punishment for the slaver's loss. to send a woman with child against the darkspawn - that would have been absolutely impossible to justify with anything but misplaced pity. 

her clan has always told her that she had been selfish like that.

the recruit howls in rage as his sister collapses in a dead faint. "you--you cannot! you will not! take her, or the neither of us!"

had it been anyone else, alya might have snapped at him to come quietly. here on the imperial highway, she cannot. she does not have that right. 

"my decision stands."

Decima Avaris