[ The deed had been Drogon's, not her own, but that does not make her hands less bloody. Here, where death is not so common, a single life looms larger than ten deaths in her world. ]
[ Six and four. She reads the names. It is good that they discuss this over text. ]
Would that I had the wealth to grant them more than this.
[ Or the ability to serve them in some other way. She has no coin after this, and no army, and no hands to lend them. Perhaps the cruelest thing she could do to them now is expose them to her own infection. ]
And I shot him. If we're going to start claiming deeds. [ text is generally devoid of tone. but even spoken, anakin would state it as fact, without attempt to either garner or provide sympathy. it had to be done. the man posed a danger. nor was there a way to rescue him from either his state or his injuries. it was a mercy. and he ignores the crackle in his ears of two lightsabers being drawn together. ]
It'd make for a nice change if he did. But if there's one thing I've found in the galaxy, corruption is the true ruler. Whether it's a town or a planet, humans or aliens makes no difference. Even in the middle of the war there'll be those making a profit.
[ Yes, and her lord husband is one of them, grabbing up pit shares in two pampered hands. ]
His wages are an obscene jape. What has he done to comfort his people, to restock their shelves with milk and bread? They riot because they are desperate and afraid. Instead his pets are well-fed whilst his people grow hungry, his hands soft as his people's are bloodied, his home warm and safe whilst others are raided. For that he should receive nothing.
It's obscene. He knows of ALASTAIR. He knows what our purpose is here. But he'll call us to collect his pet. The Republic was no different. As long as credits found the right hands, the rest of the galaxy could rot as far as most of the senators were concerned. They'd think themselves untouchable. I've seen this mayor's like everywhere, from Coruscant to Ryloth to Tatooine. They never learn. They're too comfortable.
[ an old nerve, this one, worn too sensitive and flashing hot as a fusion torch when touched. it is the indignation of a soldier on the frontline watching good people suffer and die for what feels like nothing. ( it is the old insult, never healed, of having been born a slave to an indifferent galaxy. )
a long beat follows between messages. anakin's anger no longer bleeds from the words, though it remains present, a chained beast, a different type of dragon and no less dangerous. ]
The systems need to change. There needs to be strong, decisive leadership that will act on behalf of the people.
[ His rage is unmistakable. She does not flinch from it, reading his words, though perhaps she should. After her conquest, it is too reminiscent of her own.
The Great Masters had sat ensconced in their pyramids on the eve of her sack, supping on figs whilst outside the gates the people they had helped to enslave had been slowly starving. A dark, righteous fury had risen in her when she'd set eyes upon them, and she had known then what she must do. I will bring you down, she had promised them. And brought them down she had.
For a time. Then they had come crawling from the cracks like rats, to force her hand in marriage and put her people back into bondage by another name. ]
One day I shall return home to deliver one to them.
[ Her belief in that is absolute, for all her trials. ]
Perhaps when the people are returned to health, they can be made to know how their mayor weighs a life.
[ She can and would think about the consequences, when reminded, but the text detects her first thought. ]
It's only fair. They elected him. They have a right to know the character of the man they chose.
[ they have a different set of priorities now: control the epidemic; keep those healthy that way; subdue the ill, where possible, without harm. administrative upheaval will only set flame to an already delicate tinder box.
after…
it's not as if they'll be around to suffer any consequences. even if they were, there's nothing a spoiled mayor can do touch either. ]
[ Her answer is some time in coming. Meereen has taught her that even when she feels her cause is righteous, her anger just, the decision may come back a curse to plague her.
But this is not Meereen. This city's representatives are elected, and all citizens seem to agree upon that much, at least. Perhaps the mayor's removal from power might be supported by enough of the populace that it should not come to such chaos. ]
There must be some way to distribute news to the people. By what method, though? Public notices?
[ She wonders whether he could guess at that better than she can; if this place is primitive for him, then she presumes some analog of this time must have transpired in his own world, however long ago.
Surely communication by raven is no longer the fashion. (She almost makes a jape of it.) ]
We'd only need one thing: a reporter willing to publish. Once the story breaks, other news outlets will pick it up. And they will. Even if nothing can be proven, the scandal alone could make reelection impossible. And nothing of value is lost.
Until then, I'm going back tomorrow. She's organizing a funeral. [ there's no body, but something needs to be buried. some measure of closure however wanting for herself, for her children, for family and friends. ] If you want to personally drop off something, I'll give you a ride.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Tell me of them.
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His wife filed a missing persons report. I'm heading over to tell her now.
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[ Or a daughter. ]
Let us say this price is as much as I can spare. Bring me names, when you have them. I would know every one.
[ Coin is cold comfort, and insufficient, but she cannot do more. ]
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I'm helping to get them supplies. Some toys for the kids. And giving her whatever's left.
[ he's not keeping a cent of that money for himself. ]
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Would that I had the wealth to grant them more than this.
[ Or the ability to serve them in some other way. She has no coin after this, and no army, and no hands to lend them. Perhaps the cruelest thing she could do to them now is expose them to her own infection. ]
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[ She knows he is trying to comfort her, but that much must be said. ]
This city is dying. If the mayor can pay that much for a cat, then let the rest of his stores be emptied to feed his people.
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It'd make for a nice change if he did. But if there's one thing I've found in the galaxy, corruption is the true ruler. Whether it's a town or a planet, humans or aliens makes no difference. Even in the middle of the war there'll be those making a profit.
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His wages are an obscene jape. What has he done to comfort his people, to restock their shelves with milk and bread? They riot because they are desperate and afraid. Instead his pets are well-fed whilst his people grow hungry, his hands soft as his people's are bloodied, his home warm and safe whilst others are raided. For that he should receive nothing.
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[ an old nerve, this one, worn too sensitive and flashing hot as a fusion torch when touched. it is the indignation of a soldier on the frontline watching good people suffer and die for what feels like nothing. ( it is the old insult, never healed, of having been born a slave to an indifferent galaxy. )
a long beat follows between messages. anakin's anger no longer bleeds from the words, though it remains present, a chained beast, a different type of dragon and no less dangerous. ]
The systems need to change. There needs to be strong, decisive leadership that will act on behalf of the people.
no subject
The Great Masters had sat ensconced in their pyramids on the eve of her sack, supping on figs whilst outside the gates the people they had helped to enslave had been slowly starving. A dark, righteous fury had risen in her when she'd set eyes upon them, and she had known then what she must do. I will bring you down, she had promised them. And brought them down she had.
For a time. Then they had come crawling from the cracks like rats, to force her hand in marriage and put her people back into bondage by another name. ]
One day I shall return home to deliver one to them.
[ Her belief in that is absolute, for all her trials. ]
Perhaps when the people are returned to health, they can be made to know how their mayor weighs a life.
[ She can and would think about the consequences, when reminded, but the text detects her first thought. ]
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[ they have a different set of priorities now: control the epidemic; keep those healthy that way; subdue the ill, where possible, without harm. administrative upheaval will only set flame to an already delicate tinder box.
after…
it's not as if they'll be around to suffer any consequences. even if they were, there's nothing a spoiled mayor can do touch either. ]
no subject
But this is not Meereen. This city's representatives are elected, and all citizens seem to agree upon that much, at least. Perhaps the mayor's removal from power might be supported by enough of the populace that it should not come to such chaos. ]
There must be some way to distribute news to the people. By what method, though? Public notices?
[ She wonders whether he could guess at that better than she can; if this place is primitive for him, then she presumes some analog of this time must have transpired in his own world, however long ago.
Surely communication by raven is no longer the fashion. (She almost makes a jape of it.) ]
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Until then, I'm going back tomorrow. She's organizing a funeral. [ there's no body, but something needs to be buried. some measure of closure however wanting for herself, for her children, for family and friends. ] If you want to personally drop off something, I'll give you a ride.
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[ It is her agreement, and her support. Once Woodhurst has been saved, she will join him in seeing to it that they find someone. ]
I will wind a scarf about my face and bring them my meager gift.
Thank you.
[ For all of it, truly. ]