10 hours ago
The minutiae of the plans were Eliot’s. She did not agree with everything, but she did not oppose what she might personally consider sentimentality. Others would see it as goodness; a world worth fighting for. Nox Durante certainly did, and it was men like him who mattered. Belief and loyalty were not things Helena could engender in others herself, a clinical fact she well understood about her own shortcomings. No hearts inflamed when she spoke. No one rallied to causes she nudged, unless she allowed other players to move the pieces for her.
But by his unsmiling, intense gaze, and scathing questioning, the Ascendancy himself perhaps saw unrooted idealism. She was not surprised. Had there been more natural investment in reform, he would have already acted beyond the speech which forced the Atharim into the public consciousness. He didn’t deliver a fatal blow, just one that diminished their greatest strength and ensured they would eventually gut themselves. And perhaps they would have done, if not for Helena.
Truthfully, she did not care about the legitimacy Eliot deemed necessary for his vision. Support made change happen faster, but it would not behoove them to become an overt arm of governance. There was a marked difference between men and women expected to fight alongside an enemy for a common good, and working for him. Eliot ought to step lightly, and she did glance at him then, the first time she had acknowledged his existence since they’d passed the gates. The Ascendancy was a fast moving current; one that could speed them, but also one that could drown them entire. She would speak to Eliot later of what she saw when she looked at him – the way she knew the world spiralled and bent around him. But for now, there was only the look.
Democracy was an illusion, of course. The Ascendancy must feel he maintained control. The Atharim must feel they had a true hand in their own reshaping. The populace must believe they had true protection from the supernatural beings walking freely amongst them. Eliot must balance it all on his shoulders, pulling the strings with a light touch if he truly wanted to see his dreams come to full fruition.
But by his unsmiling, intense gaze, and scathing questioning, the Ascendancy himself perhaps saw unrooted idealism. She was not surprised. Had there been more natural investment in reform, he would have already acted beyond the speech which forced the Atharim into the public consciousness. He didn’t deliver a fatal blow, just one that diminished their greatest strength and ensured they would eventually gut themselves. And perhaps they would have done, if not for Helena.
Truthfully, she did not care about the legitimacy Eliot deemed necessary for his vision. Support made change happen faster, but it would not behoove them to become an overt arm of governance. There was a marked difference between men and women expected to fight alongside an enemy for a common good, and working for him. Eliot ought to step lightly, and she did glance at him then, the first time she had acknowledged his existence since they’d passed the gates. The Ascendancy was a fast moving current; one that could speed them, but also one that could drown them entire. She would speak to Eliot later of what she saw when she looked at him – the way she knew the world spiralled and bent around him. But for now, there was only the look.
Democracy was an illusion, of course. The Ascendancy must feel he maintained control. The Atharim must feel they had a true hand in their own reshaping. The populace must believe they had true protection from the supernatural beings walking freely amongst them. Eliot must balance it all on his shoulders, pulling the strings with a light touch if he truly wanted to see his dreams come to full fruition.
![[Image: helena.talin_.klotho-scaled.jpg]](http://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/helena.talin_.klotho-scaled.jpg)