"It doesn't matter if you are or you are not," Gaius points out, looking up from his notes. Obviously, Estinien understands this kind of hate, the weight of this sort of rage. He explained he was merged with it, after all, held it in his hands, in his body, in his heart and soul -- if Gaius could believe in a soul.
"He cares that if I find a shred of peace, he may soil it in some way. I am, in essence, his prisoner and he my captor. In the absence of an attempt to rehabilitate me or kill me, he must remind me that I am weak. The Black Wolf, defanged, muzzled, with Valdeaulin's hand on his leash. It is merely him reminding me of his hand on my collar, and he cares not if you tangle in the lead," he says, watching the elezen for a betrayal of emotion. He is Gaius Baelsar, and while he can be kind, there is no real reason to be here. Not at the moment, anyway.
"Did you shed tears when heretics turned up in your path, tangled in draconic machinations, forcing your hand to cut them down -- even when they were your kith and kin?" he asks, steady as stone and twice as stoic. "Valdeaulin does not care if you suffer along side me; you are merely an Ishgardian that, by his measure, was absent in a war that you were protected from by virtue of your own, embittered conflict. He cares that I suffer and if you do too, so be it. The work will be done, and I will see it through, regardless of small humiliations. He knows that. You should too."
no subject
"He cares that if I find a shred of peace, he may soil it in some way. I am, in essence, his prisoner and he my captor. In the absence of an attempt to rehabilitate me or kill me, he must remind me that I am weak. The Black Wolf, defanged, muzzled, with Valdeaulin's hand on his leash. It is merely him reminding me of his hand on my collar, and he cares not if you tangle in the lead," he says, watching the elezen for a betrayal of emotion. He is Gaius Baelsar, and while he can be kind, there is no real reason to be here. Not at the moment, anyway.
"Did you shed tears when heretics turned up in your path, tangled in draconic machinations, forcing your hand to cut them down -- even when they were your kith and kin?" he asks, steady as stone and twice as stoic. "Valdeaulin does not care if you suffer along side me; you are merely an Ishgardian that, by his measure, was absent in a war that you were protected from by virtue of your own, embittered conflict. He cares that I suffer and if you do too, so be it. The work will be done, and I will see it through, regardless of small humiliations. He knows that. You should too."