...The truth is what you allow yourself to make of it.
[He said that almost as an idle observation, thinking for a second before elaborating.] Objective truth is an ironclad foundation, but that which surrounds it is more malleable. 'Mary Read and Arthur Pendragon are women', 'Waver Velvet has weak magecraft', 'Diarmuid ua Dubhne bears a curse', these are all the truth. As such, they carry implied limits; that Mary and Arthur would never be famous, that Diarmuid would be scorned, that I would be unremarkable.
[Waver turned that thought over in his head briefly, deciding to follow the thread of his own logic to see where it ended up.]
But if 'everything is permitted', then the that truth does not need to result in the natural conclusion. Mary Read is to this day a well-known pirate, Arthur is the most famous knight in all history, I became a lord of the Association, and Diarmuid was beloved among his friends and allies.
If 'nothing is true'--facts of circumstance don't automatically influence the course of one's life--then 'everything is permitted' and one can shape that foundation into whatever they choose for themselves.
[Edward stops right in his tracks as he processes all of this.
It's funny. When he first heard that motto, he'd laughed to himself. It didn't make sense, save for everything is permitted—he'd believed that it meant he could do, well, damn near anything, and never mind the consequences. Ever since Mary's death, ever since he first got here, it's been rattling around in his brain.
It's only now that he's considered the first half, too. Nothing is true—not his assumptions, not the limits following from various objective realities, not laws or religions or anything. If nothing is true, why believe anything? And then following Waver's logic—if nothing is true, why let yourself be limited by the objective truth? If nothing is true then everything is permitted: you make your own luck, you forge your own fate, and you live with the rest of that, you live with the consequences and you keep moving forward. Or you change course toward something better.
Mary would hate being a famous pirate. But she would like this take on her Creed. Edward stares after Waver for a long moment, as if the man has rearranged his understanding of the Assassins' Creed. He kind of has.]
...so then, why not chase every desire? [he says, after a moment, as he seems to shake off the shock and gets to walking forward again. He sounds and looks a little pensive, like he's honestly trying to puzzle this out himself.] Since nothing's true and everything's permitted, and all that.
[Waver stopped as Edward did, tilting his head curiously. Had he said something wrong and not realized it, or had his estimation been more correct than he realized? Given that Edward started walking again, it seemed to be the latter; following along with him, the question was considered carefully.]
Maybe not every desire. Sometimes what one thinks they want isn't what they're really after, or it isn't what they need out of life. I think when one finds a desire worth chasing and dedicating all their life's work to in order to shape their own fate...you just kind of know when you see it.
[Edward mulls this over for a moment, before he decides: well, he trusts Waver not to blab to anyone but Diarmuid, and Dia's damn good at keeping secrets himself. So.]
I wasn't talking about you as a pirate. You'd make a terrible one, aye. [He pauses, then smiles.] But Mary, the one I knew, was...part of something else that held to a higher code than the ones we pirates drew up for each ship.
This ain't something you can tell to just anyone, by the way. The group she belonged to could be a rather touchy and secretive lot. They called themselves the Assassins—an order of people from all walks of life, coming together because they believed in something like what you just told me. "A fondness for life and liberty," she said, and that fondness meant they would defend it to the death. Theirs, or someone else's.
[He pauses after a moment.]
Again: you can't tell anyone what I've just told you. Save Diarmuid, of course. [You guys are so close Edward would be surprised if Waver didn't tell him about this.] Mary vouched for me, which is how I didn't die after I offended them greatly.
...So that's why you were so on edge when I talked about the Association. [The antithesis of personal freedom, holding recognition and advancement as the priority over all else. Given the wild opposites it sounded like they were, it made more sense now.]
Don't worry, I won't say a word. Technically I shouldn't be talking about the Clock Tower either, but that's my own problem.
They sounded like exactly the sort of people the Assassins would and did fight against. [Another pause.] There's really a bit more than that, but I've said more than enough for the town Assassin to hang me by my toes from the Jackdaw's bowsprit.
[Arno, he means Arno. Not himself—he doesn't count as an Assassin, really, despite the robes and the blades and the Creed that has dug itself into his head and refuses to leave.]
Well, it ain't like the Clock Tower's here, so you're safe enough.
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no subject
[He said that almost as an idle observation, thinking for a second before elaborating.] Objective truth is an ironclad foundation, but that which surrounds it is more malleable. 'Mary Read and Arthur Pendragon are women', 'Waver Velvet has weak magecraft', 'Diarmuid ua Dubhne bears a curse', these are all the truth. As such, they carry implied limits; that Mary and Arthur would never be famous, that Diarmuid would be scorned, that I would be unremarkable.
[Waver turned that thought over in his head briefly, deciding to follow the thread of his own logic to see where it ended up.]
But if 'everything is permitted', then the that truth does not need to result in the natural conclusion. Mary Read is to this day a well-known pirate, Arthur is the most famous knight in all history, I became a lord of the Association, and Diarmuid was beloved among his friends and allies.
If 'nothing is true'--facts of circumstance don't automatically influence the course of one's life--then 'everything is permitted' and one can shape that foundation into whatever they choose for themselves.
no subject
It's funny. When he first heard that motto, he'd laughed to himself. It didn't make sense, save for everything is permitted—he'd believed that it meant he could do, well, damn near anything, and never mind the consequences. Ever since Mary's death, ever since he first got here, it's been rattling around in his brain.
It's only now that he's considered the first half, too. Nothing is true—not his assumptions, not the limits following from various objective realities, not laws or religions or anything. If nothing is true, why believe anything? And then following Waver's logic—if nothing is true, why let yourself be limited by the objective truth? If nothing is true then everything is permitted: you make your own luck, you forge your own fate, and you live with the rest of that, you live with the consequences and you keep moving forward. Or you change course toward something better.
Mary would hate being a famous pirate. But she would like this take on her Creed. Edward stares after Waver for a long moment, as if the man has rearranged his understanding of the Assassins' Creed. He kind of has.]
...so then, why not chase every desire? [he says, after a moment, as he seems to shake off the shock and gets to walking forward again. He sounds and looks a little pensive, like he's honestly trying to puzzle this out himself.] Since nothing's true and everything's permitted, and all that.
no subject
Maybe not every desire. Sometimes what one thinks they want isn't what they're really after, or it isn't what they need out of life. I think when one finds a desire worth chasing and dedicating all their life's work to in order to shape their own fate...you just kind of know when you see it.
no subject
[Even the laugh that accompanies his light joke sounds a little weak to his own ears. He has...a lot to think about.]
Do you know something, Waver? Mary'd love you.
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[A smirk flashed across Waver's face, trying to lighten the atmosphere with a nudge to Edward's shoulder.]
Where's that high praise coming from, Captain? I'd make a terrible pirate. Hate water, won't eat fish, can't even swim all that well.
no subject
I wasn't talking about you as a pirate. You'd make a terrible one, aye. [He pauses, then smiles.] But Mary, the one I knew, was...part of something else that held to a higher code than the ones we pirates drew up for each ship.
This ain't something you can tell to just anyone, by the way. The group she belonged to could be a rather touchy and secretive lot. They called themselves the Assassins—an order of people from all walks of life, coming together because they believed in something like what you just told me. "A fondness for life and liberty," she said, and that fondness meant they would defend it to the death. Theirs, or someone else's.
[He pauses after a moment.]
Again: you can't tell anyone what I've just told you. Save Diarmuid, of course. [You guys are so close Edward would be surprised if Waver didn't tell him about this.] Mary vouched for me, which is how I didn't die after I offended them greatly.
no subject
Don't worry, I won't say a word. Technically I shouldn't be talking about the Clock Tower either, but that's my own problem.
no subject
[Arno, he means Arno. Not himself—he doesn't count as an Assassin, really, despite the robes and the blades and the Creed that has dug itself into his head and refuses to leave.]
Well, it ain't like the Clock Tower's here, so you're safe enough.
no subject
[A shrug.]
Not a word, promise.