#because she is inextricably linked to the land she fails to protect

[pikestars]

what if you were a girl who was so blindly devoted to your cause that it twisted you up and you became a beast in mind and body to protect the idea of what you loved rather than the thing itself and and and

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Speaking about disability in fiction, would you say Toph from a:tla is one of the best written disabled character? Is there anything that could've been improved about her character?

DEAR FUCKING GOD do I love Toph.  I would humbly submit to have Lady Toph “The Blind Bandit” “The Runaway” “Greatest Earthbender of All Time” “Inventor of Metalbending” Beifong harvest my organs to achieve eternal life if such a thing were possible.  There are a ton of things that Avatar: the Last Airbender does really well when characterizing Toph, and a few I wish they’d done differently.  [PLEASE NOTE: I am nondisabled, so if I err, please tell me so.]

Is she one of the best-written disabled characters?

She’s certainly a damn cool character whose disability informs but does not define her.  I can’t really say if she’s “the best” or one of, because I haven’t read everything, but I can say that I really like her.

First of all, her story is intersectional AS FUCK.  Toph’s gender, her disability, and her social class are so inextricably linked that there’s no analyzing any single element in a vacuum.  She’s all about being tough and independent.  Partially that’s about being underestimated because of her disability.  Partially that’s about being commodified because of her gender.  Partially that’s about being privileged due to her upper-class upbringing.  All three interact to inform her identity.

“Tales of Ba Sing Se” shows that blindness bars Toph from certain aspects of femininity — she can’t perform the traditional motions of making herself up, attracting young men, being pretty and delicate — which causes her to embrace a more accessible masculine identity.  “The Runaway” shows that Toph enjoys femininity as well as masculinity, but that she struggles to build nurturing relationships when she’s concerned with appearing weak, and that that sometimes leads her to cross ethical boundaries.  “The Chase” and “Bitter Work” are all about how Toph values her independence above all else — because she’s had to struggle against her gender and disability influencing others’ perceptions, but also because she’s had the privilege to avoid helping others due to her social class.  In “The Ember Island Players” she loves being represented by a big tough strong man, but she also clearly associates masculinity with power in a way that becomes troubling when contrasted with Aang’s horror at being played by a woman.  Etcetera.

Even the whole Earth Kingdom’s role as a sort of middle rung of imperialism – less powerful than the Fire Nation, more powerful than the Water Tribes and Air Nomads — informs both the relative strictness of its gender roles and the ability of individual Earth citizens to subvert those roles.  Toph’s identity, like the identities of the other Avatar characters, is inextricably linked to her position in society.

Secondly, Toph has a lot of the features of a complex and agentic character, and her disability is neither ignored nor centralized.  She’s often right, as when she becomes the first person to trust Zuko and the only person capable of making Aang an earthbender.  She’s often wrong, as when she tries to justify theft with a “they started it” argument or belittles Sokka for being a non-bender.  She’s often somewhere in between, as when she chooses to let Appa get taken by sandbenders in order to protect her friends or gets into screaming matches with Katara over matters of procedure.

There’s also the fact that Toph interacts with certain environments differently based on her blindness, drawing attention to (in)accessible aspects of those environments the others wouldn’t have necessarily noticed.  She finds sand and wood flooring inconvenient, she hates navigating water and ice, and she initially avoids walking on metal.  Although she’s not a big fan of flying, she mostly adapts as long as her friends actually remember that she can’t navigate when they’re on Appa’s saddle.

When conflicts do occur with the environment, Toph puts the onus on the environments and on other people to adapt or help her to adapt.  She’s amused and annoyed when Sokka tries to fake correspondence between her and Katara, or stupidly asks why she doesn’t like libraries.  She rips the bottoms off of her shoes.  She calls attention to her inability to do things like scan the ground while flying when her friends are at risk of forgetting.  She plays into others’ assumptions to try and get onto ferries or get away with breaking the law.

Another thing I like: the art style for Toph avoids the trap of “draw sighted person, change eye color, call it a day.”  She doesn’t turn to face people most of the time when she’s talking to them, but also doesn’t seem totally clueless as to their relative locations.  She gets the lay of the land by stomping her feet or pressing a hand against the ground, not turning to “look” in various directions.  She doesn’t bother to keep her hair from blocking her eyes, because her bangs don’t interrupt any sight lines.  She’s neither a comically blind character who apparently can’t navigate at all with sound or touch, nor a dramatic “blind” character whose every action comes off as those of a sighted character.  Toph repeatedly mentions that she doesn’t get the value in sight, clapping back at the assumption that of course she’d want to be nondisabled.

[Image description: A screenshot from “The Chase,” which shows Toph shouting at Katara, with her face turned away from Katara.  Toph is pointing in anger, making it clear that she’s addressing Katara and that she knows Katara’s location relative to herself based on Katara’s voice.]

One last small but important victory for Avatar: it passes the Fries Test.  It has two or more disabled characters — I can explain why Zuko counts as disabled if anyone’s not sure — who survive to the end of the story without being cured, and who have their own narratives rather than existing primarily to educate nondisabled characters.  As a bonus, they have at least one conversation with each other about something that isn’t disability-related.  The Fries Test is meant to be a minimum standard for representation, much like the Bechdel Test, but it’s still nice to know that Avatar passes.

[Image description: A screenshot from “The Ember Island Players,” which shows Zuko and Toph sitting on the floor in a hallway of the theater, talking about the play and about Zuko’s uncle.]

Is there anything that could’ve been improved about her character?

If I ruled the world, or at least the Avatar writers’ room, I’d start with two changes.  One’s small-ish, one’s big and controversial.

The small-ish change: tweak Toph’s narrative to make her earthbending super-abilities less directly counter to her blindness.  As it is, she has shades of a superpowered supercrip: a disabled character from SF whose superpower primarily acts to nullify their disability, thereby giving them the lived experience of a nondisabled person for most or all of the narrative.  Toph is definitely not an egregious example — she’s not Daredevil, who can use his superpowers to read handwritten papers, navigate unfamiliar environments, “feel” colors, detect tiny gestures, and shoot guns.  She does embody experiences with blindness like disorientation when flying and frustration with hanging posters.  She just also has several instances of not experiencing blindness when she (as she puts it) “sees with earthbending.”  I’m not sure what that tweak would look like, precisely, but I’d like to see one all the same.

The bigger change: I’d cast a different voice actor.  Jessie Flower is, based on what little I can find on Wikipedia or IMDB, not blind or visually disabled.  Disability rights activists are right now fighting hard against the trend of “cripping up,” wherein nondisabled actors use mimicry or makeup to pretend to have disabilities on TV and in the movies.  Avatar doesn’t go that far, because it doesn’t have Jessie Flower onscreen in (for instance) contacts that mimic blindness.  However, it nevertheless does not cast a blind actor for the role.  The issue here is that disabled actors are almost never allowed to play nondisabled roles… and disabled actors are also almost never allowed to play disabled roles either.  By failing to find a blind voice actor, the show denied that opportunity to a less-privileged talent.

The Guardian compares the issue to the way that cis actors of the wrong gender are too-often cast in trans roles, men used to play female characters onstage, and white actors used to play black characters in American movies.  I never know how much those comparisons make sense, because among other things they completely ignore intersections of those identities.  But I also think that it’s sometimes the best way to help people understand why excuses like “but it’s haaaaaaarrd to find blind female actors of Asian descent” don’t hold water.

And here’s where I go from “slightly controversial” to “extremely controversial” and might have to enter Witness Protection.  Avatar is getting a live-action adaptation in a few months.  I predict that it will cast a nondisabled actor to play Toph.  And I predict that the same voices which (rightly!) raised such a cry against “racebent” white actors playing Aang and Katara will be completely silent on the topic of “abilitybent” actors playing Zuko and Toph.  I’m saying this on Tumblr partially to get this statement out there:

I am an Avatar: the Last Airbender fan who will ONLY support the live-action show if it casts disabled actors to play disabled characters.

I’m saying it partially because I hope to be proven wrong, either because a blind actress will be cast as live-action Toph or at the very least because Avatar fans will object when a sighted actress is cast.  I’m also saying it because I think that fans can and should protest responsibly when marginalized voices are erased by beloved works of fiction.  Will casting a blind actress require more “work” to make the set accessible?  Probably.  Will casting a blind actress perhaps necessitate more CGI for fight scenes than using a sighted one?  Maybe.  Will it be worth it to cast a blind actress anyway, so that a girl with the lived experience of Toph can portray her on screen and actually get the chance to break into an industry that bars most blind girls from participating?  YES.

[berniesandersniece]

No Water, No Life (Revised)

Olivia Johnson

1The Hoover Dam.

Population growth, climate change, and unsustainable use are just a few of the many threats the world’s water supply currently faces. These stressors placed on one of our most essential natural resources will only continue to grow if we do not boldly and rapidly confront this problem. Chapter 13 of Living in the Environment discusses this dilemma, as well as suggests possible solutions to address it. The general theme of this chapter can be summarized with the wise words of conservationist Sandra Postel when she said, “Through the cycling of water, across space and time, we are linked to all life...Water’s gift is life. No water, no life”2. Postel makes very clear how the vitality of humanity and many other species on earth is completely dependent on the presence of clean, drinkable water. Currently, we are using the earth’s 0.024% of available freshwater unsustainably by extracting it faster than nature can replenish it. In the United States, the Colorado River alone provides water to over 40 million people through an intricate man-made system of dams and reservoirs; this water source has come under considerable stress from growing populations and economic growth, and may cause serious conflict if supplies continue to dwindle. The text emphasizes how the low value we place on water encourages unsustainable use and pollution. Over 70% of water used is withdrawn solely for agricultural and livestock purposes; the production of one hamburger alone requires 1,700 liters of water. The United States, India, and China account for the world’s three largest water footprints, which is a “rough measure of the volume of freshwater that we use or pollute, directly or indirectly, to stay alive and to support our lifestyles.”3 Unsurprisingly, more-developed countries are responsible for much of the unsustainable water use, and therefore have larger water footprints.

Having a large water footprint is generally associated with an unsustainable removal of water from its source, which can cause lasting and serious damage. Groundwater is a major source of water for many sources, and is acquired by pumping water from aquifers laying beneath earth’s surface. When this water is removed faster than it can be replenished, aquifers can collapse and cause sinkholes, making recharging them virtually impossible. Dams and reservoirs also provide water to many populated areas, although they can pose major problems to the communities and ecosystems they disrupt. It is clear that freshwater must be used more sustainably, and this can be achieved through cutting water waste, slowing population growth, and protecting natural ecosystems that store freshwater.

If we continue to use our water supplies unsustainably, the serious threat of water pollution will only continue to diminish our resources. Chapter 20 of Living in the Environment discusses the causes and dangers of water pollution, as well as potential steps we can take to reduce and eradicate this major problem. Hydrologist Luna Leopold stated, “The health of our waters is the principal measure of how we live on the land.”4; water pollution is directly tied to our unsustainable activities that take place on land. A primary example of this is the large dead zones in the Gulf of Mexico caused by toxic chemicals, pesticides, and fertilizers that make their way into the Mississippi River and dumped into the gulf. These agricultural byproducts cause an overfertilization of coastal waters and severely deplete the levels of dissolved oxygen in the gulf, preventing many species from being able to survive there. Besides agricultural activities, additional sources of water pollution are industrial facilities, mining, and untreated wastewater. These and other sources of water pollution can be categorized into two categories: point sources and nonpoint sources. Point sources discharge pollutants into water sources at specific locations, and are easy to identify and regulate. Nonpoint sources, on the other hand, are broad areas where rainfall or snowmelt washes pollutants off the land and into bodies of surface water, and are difficult to control and monitor.

5Women in India carrying water to their village.

Water pollution is a serious threat not only to many aquatic ecosystems, but also to the health and safety of humans. Exposure to infectious bacteria, viruses, and parasites transferred into water from the wastes of 2.5 billion people that lack access to adequate waste-disposal can cause life-threatening diseases. According to the text, “The World Health Organization estimates that each year, more than 1.6 million people die from largely preventable waterborne infectious diseases that they get by drinking contaminated water or by not having enough water to keep clean.”6 It is evident that widespread water pollution is not only an environmental issue, but also a socioeconomic issue that disproportionately affects less-developed countries, communities of color, and indigenous nations.

7Point source pollution from an abandoned open-pit coal mine.

In addition to our freshwater water supplies, we are also rapidly polluting the ocean and causing death to its ecosystems. Oceanographer Sylvia A. Earle states, “Even if you never have the chance to see or touch the ocean, the ocean touches you with every breath you take, every drop of water you drink, every bite you consume. Everyone, everywhere is inextricably connected to and utterly dependent upon the existence of the sea.”8 Despite the invaluable resources the ocean provides us, we treat it like the world’s largest dump for our trash and toxic wastes. This utter disrespect for the oceans has resulted in several gigantic, slowly rotating masses of plastic and other solid wastes that collect in the middle of the oceans, some as large as the state of Texas. Currently, there is no practical or affordable way to clean up marine litter, once again proving how prevention is the most effective method of combating pollution and other human inflicted wounds to our earth.

In order to reduce water pollution, we must first try to prevent it by working with nature, as well as use natural resources in more efficient ways. Preventing groundwater contamination, reducing nonpoint runoff, finding substitutes for toxic pollutants, reducing air pollution, and slowing population growth all would greatly reduce water pollution and the dangerous effects it poses to human and natural ecosystems. By taking steps to prevent water pollution and control it instead of dealing with the problematic and costly effects, we may hope to reduce water pollution and the deadly effects it is having on our earth.

Our unsustainable use and pollution of our water sources prove to be so harmful ultimately because of our abuse of the interconnectedness of nature. Causing harm to one ecosystem will inevitably cause harm to another, and containing pollution is virtually impossible. An excerpt from the text perfectly illustrates this concept, stating, “The seasonal formation of dead zones in the northern Gulf of Mexico and in other areas, mostly resulting from human activities, is a reminder that in nature, everything is connected. Plant nutrients flowing into the Mississippi from a farm in Iowa or a sewage treatment plant in Wisconsin help kill fish and shellfish a thousand miles away on the gulf coast of Texas. Researchers warn that if the size of the Gulf’s annual dead zone is not sharply reduced, its long-term effects could permanently alter the ecological makeup of these coastal waters.”9 The improper disposal of harsh chemicals in trash dumps can lead to a contamination of groundwater, and throwing away a plastic bag instead of recycling it can kill a sea turtle who mistakes it for a jellyfish. Our actions, no matter how big or small, can have astronomical negative effects on ecosystems thousands of miles away.It is critically important to be mindful of our actions as well as take action to prevent the current situation from getting even worse.

Something I found problematic about these chapters of Living in the Environment, as well as the text as a whole, is how it discusses poverty and its relationship to many environmental issues. Although it often marks poverty as a cause of these issues, the text rarely provides substantial solutions to these issues, nor does it delve into the causes of poverty. Further, the text does not make clear that it is not the fault of individuals living in poverty, but rather the unfair systematic actions of the global North that largely causes poverty in the first place. Additionally, the text seems to place more of an emphasis on poverty than the unsustainable living standards of more-developed countries as the cause of environmental degradation, and it fails to examine the relationship between these two that exacerbates said degradation. These seem to be key concepts in understanding the complex problems we pose to the environment, and I believe a whole understanding of these issues require an understanding of the relationships between more-developed and less-developed nations.

Question: As climate change continues to worsen and there is little improvement to current environmental conditions, environmental racism is a growing problem to the health and safety of many vulnerable communities; how should this be addressed, especially in a time where the presidential administration of the United States doesn't even acknowledge the validity of climate change?

Words: 1492

1Miller, G. Tyler. Living in the Environment. S.I.: Cengage Learning, 2020, 324.

2Miller, 323.

3Miller, 327.

4Miller, 328.

5Miller, 325.

6Miller, 544.

7Miller, 543.

8Miller, 557.

9Miller, 551.

[wootensmith]

Free

The thaw reached Crestwood long before the peaks of the Frostbacks and the glade was already green with deep moss. The pool was swollen to the brim from the snowmelt tumbling from the mountain. Solas pushed aside the thick curtain of arbor blessing that hid the eluvian and pulled the Inquisitor through. Spring frogs sang to each other, a great chorus now that the wyverns who preyed upon them were gone. “Here?” asked the Inquisitor. She glanced behind them. “How did I miss the eluvian last time?” Solas smiled and twisted one hand. The arbor blessing shimmered and faded under the illusion of solid rock. “Ah, I should have guessed,” she said. “I still forget, sometimes, what you claim to be.” “I still forget, sometimes, what others expect me to be,” he answered. “I suspect what you believe of me is far too generous, but it is not a myth I wish to dispel. Perhaps, one day, I may be worthy of it.”

“There is no need to pretend with me.” He wondered how long she would sound so certain in that. “I have something I wish to show you. And— something to ask of you.” “Something here? I thought you brought me here because it is quiet. Have you got another temple disguised as a rock?” He laughed. “Not a temple. There is something else here, but I would have come here with you regardless. The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling? Wisdom followed you here, when we were apart. It said there was barely any separation at all. That it would be as easy as pushing through a cobweb to join you.” “Should I— is there a rift?” she raised her hand. “No, there is no danger. No work to be done. There are— places, like this, that are not entirely physical and not entirely Fade. Halfway places, where one side of the Veil leaks a little, into the other.” “Isn’t that dangerous?” “Only for those who come to them angry or frightened. And even so— it is only a small tear. You made one yourself, in Skyhold, though you did not know it. The spells there protected us from— interference. Here, no spells hold back the spirits, but unless some act of violence occurs, they are not usually drawn to places like these.” “So what is in this halfway place? What has brought us to this one?” He hesitated. It wasn’t easy to peel away centuries of loneliness. No one except Wisdom had known of the place. No agent, no spy, no friend had been brought here. “You asked me some weeks ago what was meant to happen if I should fall before completing my task. You were still recovering from the lyrium. Do you remember?” “I remember.” “I have been thinking of it ever since. Death— is not something I considered. It was never—” he stopped, rubbing the scar on his forehead. “It is not an inevitable conclusion for someone like me. Not before I had finished my duty.” The Inquisitor shook her head and blushed. “You must think me such a fool, then. Wasting so much time fearing it—” “That is not what I think. As much as you fear your death, I fear it far more. The idea of living on for centuries without you— my own holds no terror compared to that. And so, I had given it no thought. I know it is the likely outcome of my plans—” She opened her lips to protest and he smiled, pressing a hand to her cheek. “Yes, Vhenan, I still have hope of finding another path, but I must act on the one that I know is there.” “Does this mean you are putting your plans aside? That you will stay?” Her expression was very still, but her voice betrayed her. The hope in it crushed him. “If only I could. Were it anything less—” he stopped himself, took a long calming breath. “You are unique. In all of Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade as you have. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined. You have told me again and again that you rely upon me, that you value who I am. I fear I have failed to show you all that you have meant to me, to tell you how much I rely upon you. You have been my champion, my ally, my friend. My conscience and sanity. I trust no one as I trust you, at times, not even myself. So— I offer you the truth. About my task, about this world, about why I cannot stay. If I should fall before you— there are none who will take up the deed. There are none who know and none will stumble upon it.” “You mean to give me the choice?” “I mean to arm you against what will come, no matter what may happen to me.” He led her to the far edge of the pool, slipping behind the trickling falls. He wound his arms around her and turned her to face the dark rock. The last of the evening light flickered purple and green through the water, washing her skin in cold flame. “The password is a sigil traced in veilfire,” he said, guiding her fingers over the shallow grooves in the rock. She called blue flame to her fingertips and repeated the pattern. The rock shifted, sliding away. She stepped slowly into the dark room. Solas flicked a flame into nearby lanterns, illuminating several carved shelves of ancient books. The Inquisitor moved farther in, drifting away from him. He resisted the urge to call her back, to seal it away again, protect her. There was no protection from this. Not for any of them. Come with me, he begged silently. “What is this place?” she asked, turning to him. “This is Wisdom’s library.” A book lay open on the large oak table beside her. It fluttered and he felt his heart pause for just a second. It wasn’t Wisdom. He knew it couldn’t be. But his heart was unconvinced. He let the rock slide shut behind them and tried to persuade himself it had just been a breeze. “But it— was a spirit. It had no physical form.” Solas smiled. “It did once, when it chose to. Before the Veil. And I helped it collect these.” He ran a finger down the spine of a clothbound book. “I came here when I woke, looking for Wisdom. But Crestwood was too dangerous. It was not here. Still, it proved a good place to regain my strength and to plan.” “Plan for what? What happened to wake you after a thousand years? What happened to send you to sleep? What is this place?” He moved to light a fire in the hearth. “I have to tell you a story now—” “Solas—” “Not a parable,” he amended, twisting to look at her. She came to sit beside him on the cold stone. “You asked me, once, to tell you the real story of Mythal. I did not tell you then because I could not yet tell you of my own story, and it is inextricably linked.” The tinder caught and her blood writing jumped and shifted in the moving light. His fingers glided over the same lines the guide had. Her eyes closed at his touch. “Mythal did not come from the sea. She did not move Elgar’nan to retrieve the sun. She was a general in a great war. The mother of a great dynasty. She was a Dreamer, like me. She was terrifically powerful and had been for centuries before my birth. They were called the Evanuris, the people that you once believed were gods. In truth, they were as mortal as you or I. But they collected spells, techniques, artifacts— anything to extend their power. That power led others to worship them as gods. And after centuries of worship, the Evanuris fell for the lie themselves. They took slaves. Believed they were entitled to anyone or anything they wished. Once every hundred years or so, another Dreamer would be born. Sometimes, a Dreamer would challenge the Evanuris. They’d be crushed or banished. That is how the Forgotten Ones were born. They made war on Arlathan, trying to tear down the Evanuris, mostly seeking to take their place. And the Evanuris took more slaves, sought more power to overcome those they’d banished. This was the world I was born into.” “Then— you are a Forgotten One? Oh, Solas, I am sorry that I made light—” “No, I am not, though I might have been,” he said, catching the hand she reached out to him. “I was fortunate. I was born belonging to Mythal.” “You were her slave? I thought you said she was your friend.” “She was, in the end. She might have banished me. Or killed me. But Wisdom found out what I was first. And it helped me hide my power. Mythal freed me after I performed a great service for her. She aided me in helping others, and freed her own people after me. Hid me from the other Evanuris for a time until I was powerful enough to evade them on my own. The war between the Forgotten Ones and the Evanuris raged on, and my own activities were mostly ignored. Insignificant to them. If I had done more, if I had acted faster, perhaps—” “There were thousands of names— I saw them. So many people had you to thank for their freedom.” She touched his knee. “So many more will have me to thank for their destruction,” he answered. “Our fall was already happening. It happened when I was very young. A soldier in Mythal’s army.” He stood up and crossed to the shelves. She watched him hunt for the familiar book. “I do not know the real reason that Andruil wandered into the titan, nor the bargain she made with the Children of Stone, but the result I saw for myself.” His fingers closed around the scarlet book and he brought it back to her. He had studied it for so long that it fell open on the portrait of Andruil without him having to find it. She stared at it, her hands gripping the way his had, her eyes fixed upon the ruby spear. “She returned with a spear of red crystal and armor of the same.” “Was it red lyrium?” He nodded. “It sang. I heard it myself. Andruil became— strange. And her people and lands sickened. You saw the memory of her land yourself.” “This is what the Tevinters dug up? This is what lay beneath the seal?” He sat beside her again, touching the page, feeling the warmth her fingers had left behind on the paper. “It is. Mythal’s forces killed the titan it had come from. She hid the spear and the armor with it and buried it under Andruil’s land so it would not infect anything else.” “Did Andruil die?” “No. And therein lies my hope for you.” “For me?” He sighed. “We will come to it. The whole story is here, in this place. Andruil slowly retreated from her madness after the lyrium was taken away. It was how I knew what you needed…” he trailed off, tracing the edge of her ear, as if the red lyrium’s melody had ever been inside it. “She was cruel and arrogant. But for teaching me how to help you, at least, I am grateful for her. Mythal, alone, knew where the spear and armor were buried. And for a few centuries, even their existence seemed forgotten. I built the place that would become Skyhold. I freed those that I could, helped those that came to me, and left Arlathan behind. Wisdom and I studied the sickness that had infected Andruil’s people. We tried to cleanse it, but ultimately, we ran out of time. The war turned and the Evanuris were desperate. They sought anything that promised more power against the Forgotten Ones. Any rumor, any invention, they tried. Andruil told them of the spear. And the Evanuris went to Mythal and demanded she bring them to it. When she would not surrender to them, they tortured her. Tortured her people. I was not with her when they killed her. But Wisdom was. It had gone to seek her advice. It brought me news of her death. She never broke.” The Inquisitor shook her head. “Why? If it could save her people, why didn’t she tell them? Let them destroy themselves.” “Because it spread the Blight, Vhenan. It wasn’t a punishment for entering the seat of the Maker. It was a weapon the Tevinters dug out of our ruins. And if the Evanuris found it, they would not have stopped. You felt it, you felt the power the red lyrium offered. It would have intoxicated them while the corruption spread over their lands and throughout our people. Mythal did save her people. Or, she tried. It was I who failed them.” “You said you weren’t even there. How could any of this be your doing?” “After her death, the Evanuris were enraged and frustrated. Andruil led them to believe that I knew where the spear had been hidden. Wisdom came to warn me. My tower was far removed from the Arbor Wilds and even more inaccessible then, but I knew I could not hold them off forever.” “That is why you sent your people away.” She closed the book carefully, deep in thought. “But you survived— how did you survive? I cannot believe even you could defeat them all.” “I did not. I let them believe I knew where the spear was. My people helped set a trap for them. An eluvian tainted with the Blight. It led to a chamber filled with red lyrium. I don’t know if it was the titan or if it had spread beyond the beast’s body. I brought them to it and their lust for power blinded them. They walked through and I shut it. I knew it would not hold them for long. I had no choice. I had to rip them from the Fade.” “You made them tranquil?” she gasped. “Oh, my love, if only I had known how to. I made the entire world tranquil. I created the Veil to hold them, to keep them from ever rising again. To keep others from stepping into their place.” “You made the Veil?” “I did. I had to, it was the only way to stop them from spreading the Blight to every corner of the world. But the effects— it was like losing your hearing or your sight, to be suddenly cut off from the Fade that way. Cities crumbled without magic to hold them together. There were no more immortals born. The spirits were closed off entirely from this realm, old friends utterly lost. And the gods were gone. There was no one left to lead the people. No one left to protect them.” “You were left,” she said, and he felt again the sting behind it. “I was. But I would not step into the space the Evanuris and Forgotten Ones had stood. I would not be the new slave master. I went to sleep. I gave them their freedom, such as it was. It was all that I could do.” She looked at him for a long moment. “The slow arrow,” she said suddenly. “That story is false.” “It isn’t, I just never understood it until now.” He sighed and leaned back against the leg of the table. “You cannot truly think me so cold as that story paints me. There was no village—” She grabbed his hand, excited. “There was, don’t you see? Elvhenan was the village. You could not save it, but your Veil was the arrow. Your Veil saved Elvhenan’s children. It’s not meant for you. None of the stories are. They are meant for the people left behind. To explain the world. And the Fade. That’s why they paint the Maker as silent, because there was no one left to answer them—” “I am not the Maker,” he said sternly. “Actually— if you made the Veil, then you are. And Cassandra would run you through if she knew.” “This is not a jest,” he said. He wanted to become angry, but the solemnity of her face made him soften. “No,” she said, “it is not a jest. But it was also not a mistake.” “How can you say that? It was the most dire mistake of my life.” “You see only the sadness in your actions. But there is more. History has altered your image and changed what you did. You’ve forgotten why you did it. You’ve forgotten the good you’ve done.” He shook his head and felt a bitter scowl twist his face. “A thousand years of war and servitude and cruelty. That’s what I’ve done.” She pulled his chin toward her, meeting his eyes. “No, Solas. That is what we have done. You saved us. It is not your fault that we squandered the time you gave us. You say that life without the Fade is akin to losing a sense. It is still life. It still has its joys and its loves and its dreams. It is still worth preserving.” “There are few of my kin who would think so. Mythal’s people dream their time away. And when they wake, they hope only to return to slumber again. To reconnect with the Fade.” She smiled. “So did you, once. But you found something worth having beyond the Fade. Or have you changed your mind?” “No, Vhenan,” he said quickly. “Then it is time to move on from your grief. The people you mourn are at peace. It is time to let go. We’re here. We’re alive and I have hope we can change what is wrong. Except for you, we might all be darkspawn—” He shuddered and stopped her with a kiss. “Don’t say that,” he said as they parted. “I don’t wish to picture you so.” A brief look of confusion crossed her face, but she let it pass. “Then let us speak of other things for a while. Tell me of this place. Show me something of a happier time, something of the way you were then.” He smiled. “Life in hiding didn’t lend itself to sitting for portraits.” She laughed. “Neither does life in battle, but somehow I have seen some terrible ones of myself on more than one occasion.” “Very well,” he said, pulling the scarlet book from her side. He paged gently to the back, trying not to crack the thin pages. There it was, the very last of the pantheon, a simplistic painting of himself. It was not a true likeness, not even then, full of symbol but void of him. A figure in wolfskin taking the vallaslin from the face of a slave. The Inquisitor bent over it, studying it in the low light. She touched the slave’s face, and for a moment he wondered if she had mistaken it for him. But then she ran a hand over her own face. “What are you doing to this man?” she asked looking up at him. “Setting him free. Taking the vallaslin from him to leave him unmarked and unclaimed.” He watched her, holding his breath. She rubbed her cheek again. “They were slave markings, my love. They claimed people for the Evanuris, marked them as belonging to them. To be used for work, for pleasure, for sacrifice. After Arlathan fell— the Dalish forgot. Or perhaps they kept them to defy the Imperium. To set themselves apart, or to cling to all that was left of their home. Even the awful parts.” She closed the book again. “A vast culture of magic and art and stories— and this is what we’ve kept? The broken shackles?” He caressed her cheek. “I did not mean to hurt you. If you like, I still know the spell to remove them.” “Did you have them?” “Once, long ago.” “All this time and you never said— It must be so ugly to you.” “No! No, that is not what I see when I look at you. I only— you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent.” She was silent. He thought she meant to let it lie, but when she spoke, it was firm and clear. “Yes,” she said, “cast your spell.” It had been so long. He wondered if he still knew how, but then his magic remembered for him, his hands moving in the old pattern without thought. And she was clean. The cage of ink that hid her from him, gone. He stared at her a second too long, his breath catching in his throat as if his love for her were a new thing, a shy and uncertain thing. She opened her eyes. “Ar lasa mala revas. You are free.” She touched her skin, flushed. “Why do you stare?” she asked, “Is it terrible?” “No,” he laughed, “You are beautiful. But then, you always have been.” “Sweet talker,” she said, but kissed him anyway.