Valen Pride and Prancing Prejudice
Summary: In Jor's mind, there are some things that should go unseen, and some words that should not go unsaid, when either one concerns war.
Date: 16/11/2013
Related: None
Jor 


Feb 1, 3014 — Jor's Apartment — Landing — Imperius


He'd been sitting alone at home just browsing the Sphere, taking the rest of the night for himself. There wasn't anything to do aside from that bit of work for Talayla, hope for a favorable response from his Watch contact, and his studies. His Sphere session had lasted for several hours so far, an almost restless wandering for anything that Haven culture could offer to keep him entertained. Thus far, nothing had. He'd been browsing through the Vale's offerings when he came across… it, and the face that had appeared on the screen had been what put pause to the endless journey for amusement.

"I'm Nikomachos Sauveur of Cindravale. And you might remember me from recent tournaments."

For a moment, Jor sat there, stunned. Had anyone been there in the room with him, they would have long since engaged in a ribald series of commentary at his expense, originating solely from the look on his face. "You've got to be fucking kidding me." Talking out loud was an acquired habit he also tried not to do around other people.

"The tilt is clean, precise, and rarely messy."

He could feel his eyebrows rising at that — how the fuck had this been allowed through the censors? Jousting had been the height of crude slang when he had been knighted — but the words kept coming from the recently wedded Sauveur, and Sir Jor Aeldan — he still thought of himself as that in his mind, even if he tried not to say so aloud — could feel his mouth also tilting, in bemusement. If it was that.

"It's the idealized form of conflict. War, however, is anything but. It is brutal, dirty, and over-all, a tragedy. But it is something that has been thrust upon us by the Hostiles, and it is something that we must give our utmost to. All of you no doubt know someone who is risking his or her life on the front. Each one of them is the reason that we cannot falter in our support for the war effort. Darian Vassos knows this. He understands this. That's why he's running for the Senate from the Phylon 3rd District. That's why he deserves your vote."

"And you seemed so much less… that… when I talked to you. You don't even look dirty when doing war ads." He sighed, shaking his head and quickly banishing that Valen silliness from the screen. The search for entertainment continued from there, until, finally, he settled on a program that was quite rudely interrupted. When he saw the face of Elder Remis Sextus and the caption announcing who he was, however, Jor Aeldan was paying rapt attention and again with both brows raised.

Unlike Sir Nikomachos Sauveur, the Elder received no vocalized, snarky commentary during his speech. There was only silence in this particular abode, as the words from the Chantry Elder and Crown Councilman spoke to Haven.

"And what about the part where some of your own are in contact with the other fucking side of this war, Elder?" he finally asked the screen when it was done. There wasn't an answer, of course, but oh, how he wished he could get an honest one from the man that had just delivered that cargo load of crap. "You didn't bother talking about that, now did you?"

And you had better fucking make sure he does, Captain. What I gave you is at least enough to demand some answers.

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