"I suppose that depends on your definition of admirable," he says with a shrug. At least Nate's smiling. It feels better to see that.
"But accusing a typical Templar of being a typical Templar doesn't tend to have any effect. They know they enjoy trying to put mages in what they see as a mage's place. Pointing it out is useless."
Anders sighs and straightens up once the bucket is drained, shaking his head.
"I don't even... She's angry that people flirt back with me, apparently, that I'm trying to have a life instead of simply survive. Which, in her eyes, justifies walking up and hitting me in the middle of a crowd." The relief is melting away to be replaced with bitterness. "She's the third person that's hit me. And I can't guarantee the next one won't die, which will then end in my death because people who are supposed to be listening to the Inquisition take matters into their own damn hands."
There's anger, now, anger enough that his hands are shaking. "I will not die, I will not throw everything away, because they feel they can get away with anything, because they can since who would punish someone for hitting me? And yet that choice isn't even in my hands because I don't have the control I thought I did. They call me abomination with no grasp of what it means because they know those in authority despise me as I've been despised my whole life. Nothing changes. Nothing ever changes."
Justice is right there and he can't bring himself to care because what hope is there, really? Only the slim one that somehow whomever he winds up killing is someone he doesn't care about, and that's no consolation.
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"But accusing a typical Templar of being a typical Templar doesn't tend to have any effect. They know they enjoy trying to put mages in what they see as a mage's place. Pointing it out is useless."
Anders sighs and straightens up once the bucket is drained, shaking his head.
"I don't even... She's angry that people flirt back with me, apparently, that I'm trying to have a life instead of simply survive. Which, in her eyes, justifies walking up and hitting me in the middle of a crowd." The relief is melting away to be replaced with bitterness. "She's the third person that's hit me. And I can't guarantee the next one won't die, which will then end in my death because people who are supposed to be listening to the Inquisition take matters into their own damn hands."
There's anger, now, anger enough that his hands are shaking. "I will not die, I will not throw everything away, because they feel they can get away with anything, because they can since who would punish someone for hitting me? And yet that choice isn't even in my hands because I don't have the control I thought I did. They call me abomination with no grasp of what it means because they know those in authority despise me as I've been despised my whole life. Nothing changes. Nothing ever changes."
Justice is right there and he can't bring himself to care because what hope is there, really? Only the slim one that somehow whomever he winds up killing is someone he doesn't care about, and that's no consolation.