06-19-2014, 01:45 PM
Tehya listened silently, dark eyes moving to watching the projected video. Little changed in the severity of her expression, and even within her reactions were dampened. A shiver of fear traced the ridges of her spine, and bile scorched the back of her throat. Her arms folded, her moment of wishing for an ally retreating to the seriousness of business. Inside and outside matched in grave and intense sternness. She stared at the space where the hologram had faded, its revelations burned on her retina. It was after a moment shoring up her composure that she turned her attention to Aria, and her proposal.
Tehya found the notion both interesting and disturbing. Aria was a product of control, a tool forged by Atharim hands with very little concern for her humanity, and yet she spoke quite casually of using the same force on others. Of slavery as a useful weapon. The idea scraped raw against Tehya's sense of morality, though she understood the sometimes dismal necessity of reality. Thought she did anyway. Godlings could not be allowed to bring devastation to the world once more, but they were not inherently evil: they deserved their civil rights. Tehya had fought a long time with the conflict of her own hypocrisy and still had no answers, though she had toyed with the same grim ideas. Hearing Aria speak so baldly sickened her stomach, though.
A necessary weapon, perhaps, but such a dangerous one. Which was the lesser evil?
"Apollyon,"
she repeated the word with little inflection, but with the solidity and weight of a heavy burden. If it were even possible, the lines on her face drew deeper. She didn't shy from the furia's green gaze, though the woman probably sensed more of Tehya than anyone outside her blood family. "People born with gifts, whatever those gifts might be, do not deserve to die. Not for what they are, but sometimes for what they become. No single man -- no single authority-- should have control absolute. The Atharim guard a balance. That is what I believe."
It was testament to her inner conflict that she outlined her ethos, burnt through with a loyal ardency. She wished Aria to know clearly where she stood, and perhaps also by speaking it aloud she reconfirmed her own desire to be a good and moral person. Perhaps her Dustu would hear the words. Perhaps she would live up to them. "I will help."
Though on her own terms. She agreed with the sentiment, but she sought balance rather than control. An army of gods? Spirits, what might that result in the wrong hands?
Tehya found the notion both interesting and disturbing. Aria was a product of control, a tool forged by Atharim hands with very little concern for her humanity, and yet she spoke quite casually of using the same force on others. Of slavery as a useful weapon. The idea scraped raw against Tehya's sense of morality, though she understood the sometimes dismal necessity of reality. Thought she did anyway. Godlings could not be allowed to bring devastation to the world once more, but they were not inherently evil: they deserved their civil rights. Tehya had fought a long time with the conflict of her own hypocrisy and still had no answers, though she had toyed with the same grim ideas. Hearing Aria speak so baldly sickened her stomach, though.
A necessary weapon, perhaps, but such a dangerous one. Which was the lesser evil?
"Apollyon,"
she repeated the word with little inflection, but with the solidity and weight of a heavy burden. If it were even possible, the lines on her face drew deeper. She didn't shy from the furia's green gaze, though the woman probably sensed more of Tehya than anyone outside her blood family. "People born with gifts, whatever those gifts might be, do not deserve to die. Not for what they are, but sometimes for what they become. No single man -- no single authority-- should have control absolute. The Atharim guard a balance. That is what I believe."
It was testament to her inner conflict that she outlined her ethos, burnt through with a loyal ardency. She wished Aria to know clearly where she stood, and perhaps also by speaking it aloud she reconfirmed her own desire to be a good and moral person. Perhaps her Dustu would hear the words. Perhaps she would live up to them. "I will help."
Though on her own terms. She agreed with the sentiment, but she sought balance rather than control. An army of gods? Spirits, what might that result in the wrong hands?