[Adam can only imagine how that sort of magic works, but it sounds awful all the same – how could "blood magic" not sound awful? He wonders, for a moment, what exactly about Dorian needed to be changed so direly but… If the mage's world (and all its prejudices) is anything like his own, he's not sure he has to wonder.
After a few moments of consideration, he breaks the silence.]
Before I came here, I was dealing with a crisis brought on by a man – the father of augmentations, you could call him. Somewhere along the line he'd decided he didn't agree with the direction his creations had gone, decided the only way to save humanity from itself was to make an example of their… Hubris.
[His mouth twists distastefully, in spite of himself; he's clearly disgusted with the irony inherent in that argument.]
He took advantage of the implants all augs have in their brains, forced terrifying hallucinations on them, driving them to attack any non-augmented person in sight. I managed to escape being affected. [A pause.] I don't have any way of knowing now, but if I had to guess… We must be talking casualties in the hundreds of thousands.
[There's a forced-sounding clinicalness to the way he speaks about what has got to be one of the worst acts of terrorism in history– but everything about the way Adam's spoken about anything so far suggests he works hard to keep his emotions under wraps. If anything, the degree to which he sounds so detached about this in particular just means he has to work exceptionally hard to seem impersonal right now.
If it weren't in his nature to be so distant, he might also say exactly what else is on his mind right now – that honestly, he isn't sure what sort of world is going to be waiting for him when they reach their destination and all get sent back home.
But instead, he falls silent again and just tries to resist the urge to down the rest of his second glass like the last one. Settling for a sizable gulp, he shakes his head and quietly adds:] I'm sorry if I took this to a bad place. For either of us.
no subject
After a few moments of consideration, he breaks the silence.]
Before I came here, I was dealing with a crisis brought on by a man – the father of augmentations, you could call him. Somewhere along the line he'd decided he didn't agree with the direction his creations had gone, decided the only way to save humanity from itself was to make an example of their… Hubris.
[His mouth twists distastefully, in spite of himself; he's clearly disgusted with the irony inherent in that argument.]
He took advantage of the implants all augs have in their brains, forced terrifying hallucinations on them, driving them to attack any non-augmented person in sight. I managed to escape being affected. [A pause.] I don't have any way of knowing now, but if I had to guess… We must be talking casualties in the hundreds of thousands.
[There's a forced-sounding clinicalness to the way he speaks about what has got to be one of the worst acts of terrorism in history– but everything about the way Adam's spoken about anything so far suggests he works hard to keep his emotions under wraps. If anything, the degree to which he sounds so detached about this in particular just means he has to work exceptionally hard to seem impersonal right now.
If it weren't in his nature to be so distant, he might also say exactly what else is on his mind right now – that honestly, he isn't sure what sort of world is going to be waiting for him when they reach their destination and all get sent back home.
But instead, he falls silent again and just tries to resist the urge to down the rest of his second glass like the last one. Settling for a sizable gulp, he shakes his head and quietly adds:] I'm sorry if I took this to a bad place. For either of us.