In this instance, he has to agree. Not only because of what Anders is telling him. What the mage is pushing on, hoping that the crack in the dam is enough to crumble the rest of the walls. But there's also a chilling self-realization on several levels. It's numbed over, as usual, but the thought's in his head, which is more than he could say from before. Taking a deep breath, he exhales slowly, re-centering. Normally that's all it takes, but he knows this will bother him. Knows it, because he still thinks about Hei and how his actions didn't make sense.
(And how he finds himself relating more and more). ]
It doesn't really matter, does it? [ He's aware of that now. ] Even if I do, where does that get me?
[What he hears is an opportunity to plead his case. It's the most slack that November's ever given him on this topic; he doesn't intend to let it slip out of his hands.]
It might get you nowhere. But it could also get you somewhere, and that's more than a lot of others in your position could say. Think about it: if they were wrong about this, what else could they have been wrong about?
[He has no idea who the "they" he's referring to is, in this case, only that there probably is some kind of "they" to speak of. This is how he desperately wants it to be, his conspiracy theories gaining traction. Not a permanent severance, like the Tranquil, but something more muted and flimsy, only effective as far as its victims are properly conditioned. He wants November to try, but more than that, he wants November to want to try.]
It's right in front of you. How can you still think it's not a risk worth taking?
[ It's making sense and not making sense all at once. He's never been one prone to headaches, but he feels one coming on and it makes him just want to walk away from this entire conversation. Anders is trying. The mage has been given an inch and he's taking a mile, pulling and pulling on the thread to see if it'll unravel.
November doesn't know if it will. ]
Because it doesn't make sense. There's no logic in it. [ His answer is honest; it's difficult to think any other way, even now. Even when he's dimly aware of his consciousness from years ago to the present is very different. ]
Sometimes, things can't go back to the way they used to be. [ A life growing up in a place that isn't here; it looks like a film strip. It doesn't feel real. ]
[He can't actually argue with a point like that. After everything that's happened to him, everything he's done, it seems impossible to try to reach for the person he used to be—even if he wanted to, which he doesn't. It might show in the sudden flicker of uncertainty on his face, or the way his momentum is temporarily derailed.
Temporarily. If he is anything, he is dogged.]
I'm not talking about going back. I'm talking about going forward. Logic isn't always the best way to approach some things, you have to know that by now.
[ With Anders' slight hesitation, he feels like he's finally reached some kind of similar page. They all have their histories, the places that they remember and sometimes want to go back to. It's hard for him to remember all the details of his life prior to becoming a Contractor; everything about those times is a little hazy around the edges. His future, too, is hard to pinpoint. All he knows is that he's a different Contractor now than he was when he started.
Which the mage seems to be latching onto and not letting go. ]
I know that. [ He wants to convey frustration, but it comes out neutral, slightly edged with resignment. ] I can't tell my mind to choose a different path anymore than you can ask yours to stop your heart.
[He doesn't want that to be true. But it's such a familiar argument, he can't help the way it makes his stomach sink. Can you cure a beheading? In Thedas, everything he's saying would be ludicrous, impossible, a waste of breath and time. If this turned out to be the same way, after all this, he doesn't know what he'd do. Another world with people like his, with abuses like his, might be too much to consider.]
I don't believe that. Things can be learned. They can be unlearned. Today proves that it's at least possible, you can't tell me that's not true.
What harm is there in trying? If I'm wrong, then— [something in his expression cracks] I'm wrong. You can tell me "I told you so" as much as you like.
Anders, the point is that I didn't learn anything. [ One day, he'd woken up like this, unprompted. He'd only fallen asleep, uncomfortably, under a heavy overhanging brush. The next thing he remembered was reflexively grabbing someone's hand as they'd tried to knife him, blue light, and a rush of cold. After that, it was staring at the body of the friend who'd been next to him, numb all over and only faintly curious why. ]
Trying to incite emotion feels like reaching blindly into a dark room. [ He doesn't know what his hand will connect with. Like when he'd gone into the Black Box. ]
[He's silent for a long, uncomfortable moment. His jaw clenches. He finds he can't maintain eye contact, and glares at the opposite wall instead.
He is, slowly but surely, being worn down. Inevitability digs claws of doubt back into him, right at the edges. Some things simply are. They can't be changed, only toppled. Some people suffer, and can't be fixed. Some people can't notice at all that they might be suffering.]
I'm still not hearing a decent reason why you won't.
[He doesn't have much in way of arguments left. It might be a sign he knows he's losing.]
[ He notes the lack of eye contact and decides not to comment on it. Anders is the type to fight to the very end, as he is now. Some battles, though, aren't the ones that can be won. Or if they can, it's not immediate. ]
Because asking someone to start a fire they don't have the tools for isn't going to get you anywhere.
[ If there is something there, it's buried beneath layers of frost. ]
You have them. You just don't know how to use them.
[He sounds more resigned than insistent, now. To him, it feels like November is at the very edge; if he'd just take one more step, it might make all the difference. But this is an old situation, and a familiar argument. People like this look at the world like their feet were nailed to the floor.
He still wants to try. He probably still will try, never accustomed to giving up after falling down only once.]
If that's what you want to think, I'm not going to stop you.
[ November is taking advantage of Anders' resignment here. Pushing back, because what else is there to do? He doesn't understand how to tap into whatever lies underneath. It feels so foreign to him, coming in bits and pieces almost unbidden. He'd heard before, that Contractors that revert feel like their lives were unreal, a film strip. To him, his life before what he is now seems that way. ]
But even if it is true, I don't see the point the Black Box was trying to get at with that route. Logic will always be first and foremost. [ Except when it pertains to Decade. He's not about to say that out loud, though. ]
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no subject
In this instance, he has to agree. Not only because of what Anders is telling him. What the mage is pushing on, hoping that the crack in the dam is enough to crumble the rest of the walls. But there's also a chilling self-realization on several levels. It's numbed over, as usual, but the thought's in his head, which is more than he could say from before. Taking a deep breath, he exhales slowly, re-centering. Normally that's all it takes, but he knows this will bother him. Knows it, because he still thinks about Hei and how his actions didn't make sense.
(And how he finds himself relating more and more). ]
It doesn't really matter, does it? [ He's aware of that now. ] Even if I do, where does that get me?
[ There's no cure to being a Contractor. ]
no subject
It might get you nowhere. But it could also get you somewhere, and that's more than a lot of others in your position could say. Think about it: if they were wrong about this, what else could they have been wrong about?
[He has no idea who the "they" he's referring to is, in this case, only that there probably is some kind of "they" to speak of. This is how he desperately wants it to be, his conspiracy theories gaining traction. Not a permanent severance, like the Tranquil, but something more muted and flimsy, only effective as far as its victims are properly conditioned. He wants November to try, but more than that, he wants November to want to try.]
It's right in front of you. How can you still think it's not a risk worth taking?
no subject
November doesn't know if it will. ]
Because it doesn't make sense. There's no logic in it. [ His answer is honest; it's difficult to think any other way, even now. Even when he's dimly aware of his consciousness from years ago to the present is very different. ]
Sometimes, things can't go back to the way they used to be. [ A life growing up in a place that isn't here; it looks like a film strip. It doesn't feel real. ]
no subject
Temporarily. If he is anything, he is dogged.]
I'm not talking about going back. I'm talking about going forward. Logic isn't always the best way to approach some things, you have to know that by now.
no subject
Which the mage seems to be latching onto and not letting go. ]
I know that. [ He wants to convey frustration, but it comes out neutral, slightly edged with resignment. ] I can't tell my mind to choose a different path anymore than you can ask yours to stop your heart.
no subject
I don't believe that. Things can be learned. They can be unlearned. Today proves that it's at least possible, you can't tell me that's not true.
What harm is there in trying? If I'm wrong, then— [something in his expression cracks] I'm wrong. You can tell me "I told you so" as much as you like.
no subject
Trying to incite emotion feels like reaching blindly into a dark room. [ He doesn't know what his hand will connect with. Like when he'd gone into the Black Box. ]
no subject
He is, slowly but surely, being worn down. Inevitability digs claws of doubt back into him, right at the edges. Some things simply are. They can't be changed, only toppled. Some people suffer, and can't be fixed. Some people can't notice at all that they might be suffering.]
I'm still not hearing a decent reason why you won't.
[He doesn't have much in way of arguments left. It might be a sign he knows he's losing.]
no subject
Because asking someone to start a fire they don't have the tools for isn't going to get you anywhere.
[ If there is something there, it's buried beneath layers of frost. ]
no subject
[He sounds more resigned than insistent, now. To him, it feels like November is at the very edge; if he'd just take one more step, it might make all the difference. But this is an old situation, and a familiar argument. People like this look at the world like their feet were nailed to the floor.
He still wants to try. He probably still will try, never accustomed to giving up after falling down only once.]
no subject
[ November is taking advantage of Anders' resignment here. Pushing back, because what else is there to do? He doesn't understand how to tap into whatever lies underneath. It feels so foreign to him, coming in bits and pieces almost unbidden. He'd heard before, that Contractors that revert feel like their lives were unreal, a film strip. To him, his life before what he is now seems that way. ]
But even if it is true, I don't see the point the Black Box was trying to get at with that route. Logic will always be first and foremost. [ Except when it pertains to Decade. He's not about to say that out loud, though. ]