[ he notices the attention on his hands and stills them, folding his right over his left as if to hide the scar in his palm. ] Some days it's fine, [ he explains as mildly as he can manage. ] Some days it's not. [ some days it aches all the way down to the bone, all the way up his arm, and it happens more often here than it did at home. he thinks it has something to do with the fade being so far away, but-- there's no way to tell. there's still so little he knows about it, even after.. everything.
anyway, he doesn't want to bring more attention to it than he has to. there's no point; there's nothing that can really be done about it. he simply has to live with the hand he's been dealt, so to speak. ]
You should read the literature. [ there's a smile in his eyes again and threatening his mouth. ] Some of it would probably infuriate you. [ and it's not just literature-- mahanon can't count the number of times he's been asked something offensive, or been unintentionally insulted. the people here are just so.. well, ignorant. at least it's generally well-meaning, though, and the only way to solve ignorance is by being patient and educating people.
he notes the lack of a given name, giving the other elf a curious glance, but he doesn't pursue it. if solas wants to tell him-- ] It is, yes. First of the clan? [ he expects so. if he asks cullen and dorian, he imagines they'll say the same thing. it's.. strange to think of. does that mean that mahanon had never left his birth-clan? perhaps he'd died in the wilds, or been taken to a circle. perhaps he'd never existed at all.
the thought makes him draw a breath in through his nose. it's not a comforting thing to imagine. ]
.. Ah. [ a mild blink, and he straightens faintly. ] Cassandra's here. She's the Cassandra from-- from my timeline, but a much earlier point. Bull has a different inquisitor, and he's also from an earlier point. Cullen and Dorian are from the same timeline, with the same inquisitor, but as best I understand it, they're from a little over two years into the future from me. I.. [ he hesitates, glance flicking over solas again, brows drawing together faintly. ] .. If I had to guess, I'd say you're closer to Cullen and Dorian's point than mine.
no subject
anyway, he doesn't want to bring more attention to it than he has to. there's no point; there's nothing that can really be done about it. he simply has to live with the hand he's been dealt, so to speak. ]
You should read the literature. [ there's a smile in his eyes again and threatening his mouth. ] Some of it would probably infuriate you. [ and it's not just literature-- mahanon can't count the number of times he's been asked something offensive, or been unintentionally insulted. the people here are just so.. well, ignorant. at least it's generally well-meaning, though, and the only way to solve ignorance is by being patient and educating people.
he notes the lack of a given name, giving the other elf a curious glance, but he doesn't pursue it. if solas wants to tell him-- ] It is, yes. First of the clan? [ he expects so. if he asks cullen and dorian, he imagines they'll say the same thing. it's.. strange to think of. does that mean that mahanon had never left his birth-clan? perhaps he'd died in the wilds, or been taken to a circle. perhaps he'd never existed at all.
the thought makes him draw a breath in through his nose. it's not a comforting thing to imagine. ]
.. Ah. [ a mild blink, and he straightens faintly. ] Cassandra's here. She's the Cassandra from-- from my timeline, but a much earlier point. Bull has a different inquisitor, and he's also from an earlier point. Cullen and Dorian are from the same timeline, with the same inquisitor, but as best I understand it, they're from a little over two years into the future from me. I.. [ he hesitates, glance flicking over solas again, brows drawing together faintly. ] .. If I had to guess, I'd say you're closer to Cullen and Dorian's point than mine.