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Dorothea wondered what it must have been like for her cousin to grow up learning the art of war. She had never had such a training. In fact, for much of her childhood, she had not truly been aware that war existed. It seemed as though it did not affect their home and so could not be real. She had never looked at her craft as something that would be used in war. It was a sport and was used to sustain their family. It was never used to kill another human. As she grew older, she began to realize that there was more than just their estates. Wars that were fought. Yet, she still was not brought up to fight in a way that her cousin was. Not even Iason received such training. It must have been a strange childhood, she thought, though doubted her cousin realized it at the time. Children never seemed to realize that their reality was strange—not until they experienced something else.
The young woman listened carefully as Vangelis gave his explanation, not meeting her eyes. It was a cruel fate indeed to know so much about war at such an age. Dorothea understood concepts of war from reading, but Vangelis understood it from experience. She almost regretted asking the question, hearing his response. She hadn’t meant to bring up anything that was painful for him.
Without thinking, Dorothea reached out and touched his arm gently. It wasn’t exactly in sympathy—she didn’t want to make him feel like she pitied him because she didn’t. Rather, Dorothea thought him to be strong in character for having to make so many grave decisions. As quickly as her hand rested on his arm, it was gone and reaching for the rest of the arrows in the target.
“I do not know much of war,” Dorothea said, “but I imagine it must be difficult to be in your position. However, if this is any indication of your skills as a leader, I’m sure you must inspire great trust.” She said all of this matter of fact, stating what she observed. She had developed a great deal of respect for her cousin, though her father would be disappointed to learn that was all. However, Dorothea gave out respect for men very carefully. She found most to be insufferable. She was pleased that a family member hadn’t managed to fall into that category.
“I’m curious,” she began, “in many of the books I’ve read, war is described as inevitable. It is simply human nature and unavoidable. What do you think of that?” She had her own opinion, but admittedly had not experienced war. Perhaps she was wrong.
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Dorothea wondered what it must have been like for her cousin to grow up learning the art of war. She had never had such a training. In fact, for much of her childhood, she had not truly been aware that war existed. It seemed as though it did not affect their home and so could not be real. She had never looked at her craft as something that would be used in war. It was a sport and was used to sustain their family. It was never used to kill another human. As she grew older, she began to realize that there was more than just their estates. Wars that were fought. Yet, she still was not brought up to fight in a way that her cousin was. Not even Iason received such training. It must have been a strange childhood, she thought, though doubted her cousin realized it at the time. Children never seemed to realize that their reality was strange—not until they experienced something else.
The young woman listened carefully as Vangelis gave his explanation, not meeting her eyes. It was a cruel fate indeed to know so much about war at such an age. Dorothea understood concepts of war from reading, but Vangelis understood it from experience. She almost regretted asking the question, hearing his response. She hadn’t meant to bring up anything that was painful for him.
Without thinking, Dorothea reached out and touched his arm gently. It wasn’t exactly in sympathy—she didn’t want to make him feel like she pitied him because she didn’t. Rather, Dorothea thought him to be strong in character for having to make so many grave decisions. As quickly as her hand rested on his arm, it was gone and reaching for the rest of the arrows in the target.
“I do not know much of war,” Dorothea said, “but I imagine it must be difficult to be in your position. However, if this is any indication of your skills as a leader, I’m sure you must inspire great trust.” She said all of this matter of fact, stating what she observed. She had developed a great deal of respect for her cousin, though her father would be disappointed to learn that was all. However, Dorothea gave out respect for men very carefully. She found most to be insufferable. She was pleased that a family member hadn’t managed to fall into that category.
“I’m curious,” she began, “in many of the books I’ve read, war is described as inevitable. It is simply human nature and unavoidable. What do you think of that?” She had her own opinion, but admittedly had not experienced war. Perhaps she was wrong.
Dorothea wondered what it must have been like for her cousin to grow up learning the art of war. She had never had such a training. In fact, for much of her childhood, she had not truly been aware that war existed. It seemed as though it did not affect their home and so could not be real. She had never looked at her craft as something that would be used in war. It was a sport and was used to sustain their family. It was never used to kill another human. As she grew older, she began to realize that there was more than just their estates. Wars that were fought. Yet, she still was not brought up to fight in a way that her cousin was. Not even Iason received such training. It must have been a strange childhood, she thought, though doubted her cousin realized it at the time. Children never seemed to realize that their reality was strange—not until they experienced something else.
The young woman listened carefully as Vangelis gave his explanation, not meeting her eyes. It was a cruel fate indeed to know so much about war at such an age. Dorothea understood concepts of war from reading, but Vangelis understood it from experience. She almost regretted asking the question, hearing his response. She hadn’t meant to bring up anything that was painful for him.
Without thinking, Dorothea reached out and touched his arm gently. It wasn’t exactly in sympathy—she didn’t want to make him feel like she pitied him because she didn’t. Rather, Dorothea thought him to be strong in character for having to make so many grave decisions. As quickly as her hand rested on his arm, it was gone and reaching for the rest of the arrows in the target.
“I do not know much of war,” Dorothea said, “but I imagine it must be difficult to be in your position. However, if this is any indication of your skills as a leader, I’m sure you must inspire great trust.” She said all of this matter of fact, stating what she observed. She had developed a great deal of respect for her cousin, though her father would be disappointed to learn that was all. However, Dorothea gave out respect for men very carefully. She found most to be insufferable. She was pleased that a family member hadn’t managed to fall into that category.
“I’m curious,” she began, “in many of the books I’ve read, war is described as inevitable. It is simply human nature and unavoidable. What do you think of that?” She had her own opinion, but admittedly had not experienced war. Perhaps she was wrong.
Vangelis did not meet Dorothea's gaze as he spoke, not because he was ashamed or in discomfort over the conversation, but because he was physically encapsulating the avoidance of such a topic around a woman. Despite his nature refusing to let him lie or gloss over the reality of his life as a military General, Vangelis had been raised with the notion of protecting the fairer sex. And the subject of wars and battles was one to only meet the eyes of other men over. There was no doubt in Vangelis' mind that the females of the world might be able to handle the realities of war. But he considered it an unnecessary evil. One that could be kept away from them. His gaze, focused on the target, was a detractor from the intensity of such a topic and a symptom of his upbringing.
Dorothea clearly felt, however, that his lack of direct eye contract was a moment of emotion on his part; that he was unable to meet her stare because of some horrifying guilt or unease that rested in the bed of his psyche. In truth, Vangelis had no concept of such things. He went to war; he did his job and then he returned home. He had never thought for any great length of time on the bodies he had broken and the lives he had taken. He thought only upon those he had managed to return to their wives and children.
When his cousin reached out to touch his arm, Vangelis looked towards her in surprise, his expression one that was open and calm. She detached herself quickly and spoke of her ignorance where the domain of Ares was concerned. She spoke of him ruling his men with great trust and skill and he offered no acceptance of such a compliment. Instead, he gave a small half shrug once more and spoke with a simplicity that belied any pride or ego over the matter.
"I would hope that to be the case." He offered. "Yet those that do not follow for the sake of trust can be made to through fear."
He offered no more upon the statement and his tone was clearly one of finality. He was not about to discuss such reprimands and fearsome reputations with his cousin. Instead, he looked to her as she spoke on a more mindful point. She considered the ways of mankind and whether or not war was even a necessity. Something that Vangelis had rarely been encouraged to call into question. War was simply the way the world was.
"I think..." He began, unsure of his next words and considering them carefully. He wasn't used to having such open discussions with young women - regardless of blood relations. "...that humans find themselves a purpose. And that we define what we see in others and cannot emulate. I think that conflict in all forms is a natural means of life. And the fastest way for us to establish our own purposes."
He looked towards his cousin and met her gaze.
"I do not think that we should ever be free of war."
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Vangelis did not meet Dorothea's gaze as he spoke, not because he was ashamed or in discomfort over the conversation, but because he was physically encapsulating the avoidance of such a topic around a woman. Despite his nature refusing to let him lie or gloss over the reality of his life as a military General, Vangelis had been raised with the notion of protecting the fairer sex. And the subject of wars and battles was one to only meet the eyes of other men over. There was no doubt in Vangelis' mind that the females of the world might be able to handle the realities of war. But he considered it an unnecessary evil. One that could be kept away from them. His gaze, focused on the target, was a detractor from the intensity of such a topic and a symptom of his upbringing.
Dorothea clearly felt, however, that his lack of direct eye contract was a moment of emotion on his part; that he was unable to meet her stare because of some horrifying guilt or unease that rested in the bed of his psyche. In truth, Vangelis had no concept of such things. He went to war; he did his job and then he returned home. He had never thought for any great length of time on the bodies he had broken and the lives he had taken. He thought only upon those he had managed to return to their wives and children.
When his cousin reached out to touch his arm, Vangelis looked towards her in surprise, his expression one that was open and calm. She detached herself quickly and spoke of her ignorance where the domain of Ares was concerned. She spoke of him ruling his men with great trust and skill and he offered no acceptance of such a compliment. Instead, he gave a small half shrug once more and spoke with a simplicity that belied any pride or ego over the matter.
"I would hope that to be the case." He offered. "Yet those that do not follow for the sake of trust can be made to through fear."
He offered no more upon the statement and his tone was clearly one of finality. He was not about to discuss such reprimands and fearsome reputations with his cousin. Instead, he looked to her as she spoke on a more mindful point. She considered the ways of mankind and whether or not war was even a necessity. Something that Vangelis had rarely been encouraged to call into question. War was simply the way the world was.
"I think..." He began, unsure of his next words and considering them carefully. He wasn't used to having such open discussions with young women - regardless of blood relations. "...that humans find themselves a purpose. And that we define what we see in others and cannot emulate. I think that conflict in all forms is a natural means of life. And the fastest way for us to establish our own purposes."
He looked towards his cousin and met her gaze.
"I do not think that we should ever be free of war."
Vangelis did not meet Dorothea's gaze as he spoke, not because he was ashamed or in discomfort over the conversation, but because he was physically encapsulating the avoidance of such a topic around a woman. Despite his nature refusing to let him lie or gloss over the reality of his life as a military General, Vangelis had been raised with the notion of protecting the fairer sex. And the subject of wars and battles was one to only meet the eyes of other men over. There was no doubt in Vangelis' mind that the females of the world might be able to handle the realities of war. But he considered it an unnecessary evil. One that could be kept away from them. His gaze, focused on the target, was a detractor from the intensity of such a topic and a symptom of his upbringing.
Dorothea clearly felt, however, that his lack of direct eye contract was a moment of emotion on his part; that he was unable to meet her stare because of some horrifying guilt or unease that rested in the bed of his psyche. In truth, Vangelis had no concept of such things. He went to war; he did his job and then he returned home. He had never thought for any great length of time on the bodies he had broken and the lives he had taken. He thought only upon those he had managed to return to their wives and children.
When his cousin reached out to touch his arm, Vangelis looked towards her in surprise, his expression one that was open and calm. She detached herself quickly and spoke of her ignorance where the domain of Ares was concerned. She spoke of him ruling his men with great trust and skill and he offered no acceptance of such a compliment. Instead, he gave a small half shrug once more and spoke with a simplicity that belied any pride or ego over the matter.
"I would hope that to be the case." He offered. "Yet those that do not follow for the sake of trust can be made to through fear."
He offered no more upon the statement and his tone was clearly one of finality. He was not about to discuss such reprimands and fearsome reputations with his cousin. Instead, he looked to her as she spoke on a more mindful point. She considered the ways of mankind and whether or not war was even a necessity. Something that Vangelis had rarely been encouraged to call into question. War was simply the way the world was.
"I think..." He began, unsure of his next words and considering them carefully. He wasn't used to having such open discussions with young women - regardless of blood relations. "...that humans find themselves a purpose. And that we define what we see in others and cannot emulate. I think that conflict in all forms is a natural means of life. And the fastest way for us to establish our own purposes."
He looked towards his cousin and met her gaze.
"I do not think that we should ever be free of war."
Vangelis’ reaction to her touch told Dorothea enough. She wasn’t one often inclined to reach out to others. In fact, it was only recently with the arrival of Persephone that such things had changed. Sisterhood with someone close in age had made Dorothea a more friendly person in some ways. Especially when it came to physical touch to show affection. Now Dorothea found herself mildly embarrassed by the action, though she gave no indication of it. Acknowledging it might bring more attention to the action and that was the last thing that Dorothea wanted. She especially didn’t want him to get any sort of the wrong idea. Sure, he had impressed her by not completely disregarding her as an archer, but that didn’t mean she was remotely interested in him. Her father’s words rang in her ears from their arrival, reminding her that her duty was to find a husband. She had always been uninterested in that duty, but wasn’t sure if her cousin was aware of such a fact. He must be a popular target for women.
Sighing to herself, Dorothea pushed those thoughts from her head. She had enough time to contemplate that when she was alone. She certainly did not need to be thinking about marriage when she was in front of a man she most definitely did not want to marry.
Luckily, their talk turned to war, though she supposed that was only slightly more preferable. Her brows raised slightly at his response, indicating that not everybody trusted him. Vangelis didn’t seem to want to speak more on the matter, for which she was grateful. He was an intimidating man and she could imagine ways in which others might be inspired to fear him. She was grateful that he didn’t seem inclined to display any of that now. Dorothea wondered what she might feel like were she an archer under his command. Would she be frightened into submission or respect his leadership? It would be an interesting dynamic, to be sure. Of course, she would never find out such a thing, for certainly her father would never let her go to war.
As Vangelis answered her next question, Dorothea turned to gaze at him cautiously. He was one who knew much of war and could be a trusted source of information. Though she found herself wondering if perhaps he was too clouded by his own experience to see another side.
“I wish that were not true,” she responded. “It seems a shame to waste human life so. Wouldn’t a purpose that contributes something to this world be a better use of a life? Not all men wish to go to war, I should think. Some have no choice—it is a way to provide for their families. But I would think most would prefer not to waste their life so?” It was a question as much of a statement. She saw both sides. It was an honor for many to fight—were she given the opportunity to prove herself though war, wouldn’t she consider taking it?
Then, another question: “Yet, women join your forces. What does war mean to them?” She didn’t know if he could very well answer that question, but it was just another curiosity of a world in which she had no experience.
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Vangelis’ reaction to her touch told Dorothea enough. She wasn’t one often inclined to reach out to others. In fact, it was only recently with the arrival of Persephone that such things had changed. Sisterhood with someone close in age had made Dorothea a more friendly person in some ways. Especially when it came to physical touch to show affection. Now Dorothea found herself mildly embarrassed by the action, though she gave no indication of it. Acknowledging it might bring more attention to the action and that was the last thing that Dorothea wanted. She especially didn’t want him to get any sort of the wrong idea. Sure, he had impressed her by not completely disregarding her as an archer, but that didn’t mean she was remotely interested in him. Her father’s words rang in her ears from their arrival, reminding her that her duty was to find a husband. She had always been uninterested in that duty, but wasn’t sure if her cousin was aware of such a fact. He must be a popular target for women.
Sighing to herself, Dorothea pushed those thoughts from her head. She had enough time to contemplate that when she was alone. She certainly did not need to be thinking about marriage when she was in front of a man she most definitely did not want to marry.
Luckily, their talk turned to war, though she supposed that was only slightly more preferable. Her brows raised slightly at his response, indicating that not everybody trusted him. Vangelis didn’t seem to want to speak more on the matter, for which she was grateful. He was an intimidating man and she could imagine ways in which others might be inspired to fear him. She was grateful that he didn’t seem inclined to display any of that now. Dorothea wondered what she might feel like were she an archer under his command. Would she be frightened into submission or respect his leadership? It would be an interesting dynamic, to be sure. Of course, she would never find out such a thing, for certainly her father would never let her go to war.
As Vangelis answered her next question, Dorothea turned to gaze at him cautiously. He was one who knew much of war and could be a trusted source of information. Though she found herself wondering if perhaps he was too clouded by his own experience to see another side.
“I wish that were not true,” she responded. “It seems a shame to waste human life so. Wouldn’t a purpose that contributes something to this world be a better use of a life? Not all men wish to go to war, I should think. Some have no choice—it is a way to provide for their families. But I would think most would prefer not to waste their life so?” It was a question as much of a statement. She saw both sides. It was an honor for many to fight—were she given the opportunity to prove herself though war, wouldn’t she consider taking it?
Then, another question: “Yet, women join your forces. What does war mean to them?” She didn’t know if he could very well answer that question, but it was just another curiosity of a world in which she had no experience.
Vangelis’ reaction to her touch told Dorothea enough. She wasn’t one often inclined to reach out to others. In fact, it was only recently with the arrival of Persephone that such things had changed. Sisterhood with someone close in age had made Dorothea a more friendly person in some ways. Especially when it came to physical touch to show affection. Now Dorothea found herself mildly embarrassed by the action, though she gave no indication of it. Acknowledging it might bring more attention to the action and that was the last thing that Dorothea wanted. She especially didn’t want him to get any sort of the wrong idea. Sure, he had impressed her by not completely disregarding her as an archer, but that didn’t mean she was remotely interested in him. Her father’s words rang in her ears from their arrival, reminding her that her duty was to find a husband. She had always been uninterested in that duty, but wasn’t sure if her cousin was aware of such a fact. He must be a popular target for women.
Sighing to herself, Dorothea pushed those thoughts from her head. She had enough time to contemplate that when she was alone. She certainly did not need to be thinking about marriage when she was in front of a man she most definitely did not want to marry.
Luckily, their talk turned to war, though she supposed that was only slightly more preferable. Her brows raised slightly at his response, indicating that not everybody trusted him. Vangelis didn’t seem to want to speak more on the matter, for which she was grateful. He was an intimidating man and she could imagine ways in which others might be inspired to fear him. She was grateful that he didn’t seem inclined to display any of that now. Dorothea wondered what she might feel like were she an archer under his command. Would she be frightened into submission or respect his leadership? It would be an interesting dynamic, to be sure. Of course, she would never find out such a thing, for certainly her father would never let her go to war.
As Vangelis answered her next question, Dorothea turned to gaze at him cautiously. He was one who knew much of war and could be a trusted source of information. Though she found herself wondering if perhaps he was too clouded by his own experience to see another side.
“I wish that were not true,” she responded. “It seems a shame to waste human life so. Wouldn’t a purpose that contributes something to this world be a better use of a life? Not all men wish to go to war, I should think. Some have no choice—it is a way to provide for their families. But I would think most would prefer not to waste their life so?” It was a question as much of a statement. She saw both sides. It was an honor for many to fight—were she given the opportunity to prove herself though war, wouldn’t she consider taking it?
Then, another question: “Yet, women join your forces. What does war mean to them?” She didn’t know if he could very well answer that question, but it was just another curiosity of a world in which she had no experience.
'I wish that were not true,'
The words were simple and unassuming and Vangelis had nodded when Dorothea spoke them. He did not interrupt her as she let her thoughts draw to their own conclusions and whisper beyond her lips. She spoke with the clarity of someone who had mused upon the topic before but with an open eagerness that said she had rarely had the opportunity to discuss it. Perhaps she thought that he was the prime audience for such a conversation, given that he had seen war perhaps more than most. Perhaps she had simply felt a moment of inspiration to say what was on her mind - even if it was only sparked by the need to fill a silence. Vangelis was hardly the chattiest of individuals.
Allowing Dorothea to express herself, hearing what she had to say and permitting such interests, Vangelis took up the bow once more and, as if absent-mindedly, shot a few arrows towards the targets ahead. His gaze came back to his cousin in between shots, showing that he was listening. But he was not a man who could remain still; conversation his only distraction. Instead, he was a more practical individual, feeling the need to do something with his hands or be productive in his time however he could be.
When Dorothea had concluded her thoughts, asking him if war was surely not a waste of human life, he looked towards her again.
"It is." He agreed simply. And it was perhaps an odd confession from a man who spent his entirely life leading others into war. "War is a waste of life, potential, money and time." He admitted, as he selected another arrow and nocked it true. He fired and shot a direct bullseye upon the target. It was as if the arrow had formed the full stop of his sentence, hammering the point home. He then looked to his cousin again to finalise his own meaning...
"But that doesn't mean that we shall ever be free of it."
Vangelis' tone wasn't sad or morose over this conclusion. Only final, accepting. He knew that war was a horror that should not have to be seen or fought by those that only wished to protect their families and their homelands. He knew that those on the opposing side felt a need to push their boundaries and conquer in some sort of defence of their own futures. The entire concept of conflict and bloodshed was faulty. And yet, it was what it was. And Vangelis had made a career of doing whatever he could to symbolise and embody those horrors, so that peace talks might be more fruitful or forthcoming. It was the only solution that he had ever found to try and stem the flow of blood and death.
When Dorothea mentioned about women in the army, Vangelis nodded. "Yes, women are permitted to be archers in the Colchian forces." He knew that this was unique to his kingdom and that Taengea and Athenia had not yet yielded to the acceptance of a female skill with a bow and arrow. It was true that most women were not worthy of war. That they held the accuracy with an arrow to cause damage but not the strength to see the shaft hammer through armour. Women were also more delicate in nature; kinder and more compassionate. Vangelis had seen many female soldiers crumble under the realisation that they had taken a life upon the battlefield and struggle to reach acceptance over it.
"As for what war means to them, I cannot answer. But perhaps one day you shall come to Colchis and ask them for yourself?" He suggested. The offer was casual and without a great deal of thought. Dorothea would be welcome in Colchis of course but it would be down to her father if she would be permitted to travel so. So, in Vangelis' mind, the suggestion was a little of a moot point.
He, of course, had no idea that he would be docking at Taengea in just a few months with female soldiers and a complete army in tow.
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'I wish that were not true,'
The words were simple and unassuming and Vangelis had nodded when Dorothea spoke them. He did not interrupt her as she let her thoughts draw to their own conclusions and whisper beyond her lips. She spoke with the clarity of someone who had mused upon the topic before but with an open eagerness that said she had rarely had the opportunity to discuss it. Perhaps she thought that he was the prime audience for such a conversation, given that he had seen war perhaps more than most. Perhaps she had simply felt a moment of inspiration to say what was on her mind - even if it was only sparked by the need to fill a silence. Vangelis was hardly the chattiest of individuals.
Allowing Dorothea to express herself, hearing what she had to say and permitting such interests, Vangelis took up the bow once more and, as if absent-mindedly, shot a few arrows towards the targets ahead. His gaze came back to his cousin in between shots, showing that he was listening. But he was not a man who could remain still; conversation his only distraction. Instead, he was a more practical individual, feeling the need to do something with his hands or be productive in his time however he could be.
When Dorothea had concluded her thoughts, asking him if war was surely not a waste of human life, he looked towards her again.
"It is." He agreed simply. And it was perhaps an odd confession from a man who spent his entirely life leading others into war. "War is a waste of life, potential, money and time." He admitted, as he selected another arrow and nocked it true. He fired and shot a direct bullseye upon the target. It was as if the arrow had formed the full stop of his sentence, hammering the point home. He then looked to his cousin again to finalise his own meaning...
"But that doesn't mean that we shall ever be free of it."
Vangelis' tone wasn't sad or morose over this conclusion. Only final, accepting. He knew that war was a horror that should not have to be seen or fought by those that only wished to protect their families and their homelands. He knew that those on the opposing side felt a need to push their boundaries and conquer in some sort of defence of their own futures. The entire concept of conflict and bloodshed was faulty. And yet, it was what it was. And Vangelis had made a career of doing whatever he could to symbolise and embody those horrors, so that peace talks might be more fruitful or forthcoming. It was the only solution that he had ever found to try and stem the flow of blood and death.
When Dorothea mentioned about women in the army, Vangelis nodded. "Yes, women are permitted to be archers in the Colchian forces." He knew that this was unique to his kingdom and that Taengea and Athenia had not yet yielded to the acceptance of a female skill with a bow and arrow. It was true that most women were not worthy of war. That they held the accuracy with an arrow to cause damage but not the strength to see the shaft hammer through armour. Women were also more delicate in nature; kinder and more compassionate. Vangelis had seen many female soldiers crumble under the realisation that they had taken a life upon the battlefield and struggle to reach acceptance over it.
"As for what war means to them, I cannot answer. But perhaps one day you shall come to Colchis and ask them for yourself?" He suggested. The offer was casual and without a great deal of thought. Dorothea would be welcome in Colchis of course but it would be down to her father if she would be permitted to travel so. So, in Vangelis' mind, the suggestion was a little of a moot point.
He, of course, had no idea that he would be docking at Taengea in just a few months with female soldiers and a complete army in tow.
'I wish that were not true,'
The words were simple and unassuming and Vangelis had nodded when Dorothea spoke them. He did not interrupt her as she let her thoughts draw to their own conclusions and whisper beyond her lips. She spoke with the clarity of someone who had mused upon the topic before but with an open eagerness that said she had rarely had the opportunity to discuss it. Perhaps she thought that he was the prime audience for such a conversation, given that he had seen war perhaps more than most. Perhaps she had simply felt a moment of inspiration to say what was on her mind - even if it was only sparked by the need to fill a silence. Vangelis was hardly the chattiest of individuals.
Allowing Dorothea to express herself, hearing what she had to say and permitting such interests, Vangelis took up the bow once more and, as if absent-mindedly, shot a few arrows towards the targets ahead. His gaze came back to his cousin in between shots, showing that he was listening. But he was not a man who could remain still; conversation his only distraction. Instead, he was a more practical individual, feeling the need to do something with his hands or be productive in his time however he could be.
When Dorothea had concluded her thoughts, asking him if war was surely not a waste of human life, he looked towards her again.
"It is." He agreed simply. And it was perhaps an odd confession from a man who spent his entirely life leading others into war. "War is a waste of life, potential, money and time." He admitted, as he selected another arrow and nocked it true. He fired and shot a direct bullseye upon the target. It was as if the arrow had formed the full stop of his sentence, hammering the point home. He then looked to his cousin again to finalise his own meaning...
"But that doesn't mean that we shall ever be free of it."
Vangelis' tone wasn't sad or morose over this conclusion. Only final, accepting. He knew that war was a horror that should not have to be seen or fought by those that only wished to protect their families and their homelands. He knew that those on the opposing side felt a need to push their boundaries and conquer in some sort of defence of their own futures. The entire concept of conflict and bloodshed was faulty. And yet, it was what it was. And Vangelis had made a career of doing whatever he could to symbolise and embody those horrors, so that peace talks might be more fruitful or forthcoming. It was the only solution that he had ever found to try and stem the flow of blood and death.
When Dorothea mentioned about women in the army, Vangelis nodded. "Yes, women are permitted to be archers in the Colchian forces." He knew that this was unique to his kingdom and that Taengea and Athenia had not yet yielded to the acceptance of a female skill with a bow and arrow. It was true that most women were not worthy of war. That they held the accuracy with an arrow to cause damage but not the strength to see the shaft hammer through armour. Women were also more delicate in nature; kinder and more compassionate. Vangelis had seen many female soldiers crumble under the realisation that they had taken a life upon the battlefield and struggle to reach acceptance over it.
"As for what war means to them, I cannot answer. But perhaps one day you shall come to Colchis and ask them for yourself?" He suggested. The offer was casual and without a great deal of thought. Dorothea would be welcome in Colchis of course but it would be down to her father if she would be permitted to travel so. So, in Vangelis' mind, the suggestion was a little of a moot point.
He, of course, had no idea that he would be docking at Taengea in just a few months with female soldiers and a complete army in tow.
As Dorothea spoke, Vangelis took aim at the target, unleashing a few arrows. She was unoffended, for he was clearly listening. It just seemed that he didn’t like to be still. That was something she could certainly relate too. Dorothea always preferred to be moving if she could – this had been one trait from childhood that she had not outgrown. So, she didn’t mind, watching casually as Vangelis shot his arrow. She admired his form, now that he was not concentrating so hard on besting her. This was how shooting was meant to be – the bow as an extension of oneself. Vangelis achieved that now more so than earlier, she thought.
When she finally concluded her somewhat rambling thought, he responded, shooting an arrow directly into the bullseye with a resounding thunk. It was interesting to hear her opinion echoed, though he ended it with a declaration of certainty: they would never be free of war. Dorothea wished that she could see another way, but found that she agreed with him. It was at least interesting to know that those who fought also found war a waste.
Dorothea had never really discussed this topic with anyone before. Her own opinions were informed as far as literature would take them. It wasn’t exactly something she could discuss with her father and her uncle seemed to have little opinion on the matter. Vangelis was perhaps the first person that she could speak comfortably with about war. Though she wasn’t sure he wanted to discuss it much. It was hard to read her cousin, for he often seemed so silent and brooding. Not that she faulted him for it. Perhaps if she had seen so much bloodshed, she too would be reluctant to speak about it.
She certainly had it in mind to ask the women in his army, however. Dorothea felt inspired by the somewhat openness of the Colchian army, at least compared to that of Taengea and Athenia. To know that there were others out there that were just as talented as she was something Dorothea could only dream of at this point. Most women in Taengea did not appear to favor fighting or archery. While Dorothea had achieved some reputation for her skill, she feared it was more out respect for the goddess who had been thought to bestow the gift upon it than her actual skill. A blessing didn’t mean she hadn’t worked hard to ensure that her skill was worthy. There was plenty that she had to learn to do and much practice to ensure that she was excellent at it.
“I would like that,” she replied, “It is not often that I come upon women who are both talented and interested in archery. Not many of my peers here share my interest.”
As Vangelis had stopped shooting, Dorothea took the opportunity to send a quick arrow flying, sliding next to his bullseye. From a distance, it looked as if there was only one arrow. She sent another three in quick succession, forming a tight circle around his own. She briefly considered shooting one through his, but it seemed like an awful waste of an arrow when she had nothing to prove.
“This was an unexpected way to spend my afternoon, but enjoyable nonetheless. Thank you for shooting with me, cousin. I hope one day I will be able to meet with some of your archers. It would be my great honor.”
Even as she said that, she had no notion that it might be possible for her to one day do more than meet them, but join their ranks. That would be a greater honor yet.
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As Dorothea spoke, Vangelis took aim at the target, unleashing a few arrows. She was unoffended, for he was clearly listening. It just seemed that he didn’t like to be still. That was something she could certainly relate too. Dorothea always preferred to be moving if she could – this had been one trait from childhood that she had not outgrown. So, she didn’t mind, watching casually as Vangelis shot his arrow. She admired his form, now that he was not concentrating so hard on besting her. This was how shooting was meant to be – the bow as an extension of oneself. Vangelis achieved that now more so than earlier, she thought.
When she finally concluded her somewhat rambling thought, he responded, shooting an arrow directly into the bullseye with a resounding thunk. It was interesting to hear her opinion echoed, though he ended it with a declaration of certainty: they would never be free of war. Dorothea wished that she could see another way, but found that she agreed with him. It was at least interesting to know that those who fought also found war a waste.
Dorothea had never really discussed this topic with anyone before. Her own opinions were informed as far as literature would take them. It wasn’t exactly something she could discuss with her father and her uncle seemed to have little opinion on the matter. Vangelis was perhaps the first person that she could speak comfortably with about war. Though she wasn’t sure he wanted to discuss it much. It was hard to read her cousin, for he often seemed so silent and brooding. Not that she faulted him for it. Perhaps if she had seen so much bloodshed, she too would be reluctant to speak about it.
She certainly had it in mind to ask the women in his army, however. Dorothea felt inspired by the somewhat openness of the Colchian army, at least compared to that of Taengea and Athenia. To know that there were others out there that were just as talented as she was something Dorothea could only dream of at this point. Most women in Taengea did not appear to favor fighting or archery. While Dorothea had achieved some reputation for her skill, she feared it was more out respect for the goddess who had been thought to bestow the gift upon it than her actual skill. A blessing didn’t mean she hadn’t worked hard to ensure that her skill was worthy. There was plenty that she had to learn to do and much practice to ensure that she was excellent at it.
“I would like that,” she replied, “It is not often that I come upon women who are both talented and interested in archery. Not many of my peers here share my interest.”
As Vangelis had stopped shooting, Dorothea took the opportunity to send a quick arrow flying, sliding next to his bullseye. From a distance, it looked as if there was only one arrow. She sent another three in quick succession, forming a tight circle around his own. She briefly considered shooting one through his, but it seemed like an awful waste of an arrow when she had nothing to prove.
“This was an unexpected way to spend my afternoon, but enjoyable nonetheless. Thank you for shooting with me, cousin. I hope one day I will be able to meet with some of your archers. It would be my great honor.”
Even as she said that, she had no notion that it might be possible for her to one day do more than meet them, but join their ranks. That would be a greater honor yet.
As Dorothea spoke, Vangelis took aim at the target, unleashing a few arrows. She was unoffended, for he was clearly listening. It just seemed that he didn’t like to be still. That was something she could certainly relate too. Dorothea always preferred to be moving if she could – this had been one trait from childhood that she had not outgrown. So, she didn’t mind, watching casually as Vangelis shot his arrow. She admired his form, now that he was not concentrating so hard on besting her. This was how shooting was meant to be – the bow as an extension of oneself. Vangelis achieved that now more so than earlier, she thought.
When she finally concluded her somewhat rambling thought, he responded, shooting an arrow directly into the bullseye with a resounding thunk. It was interesting to hear her opinion echoed, though he ended it with a declaration of certainty: they would never be free of war. Dorothea wished that she could see another way, but found that she agreed with him. It was at least interesting to know that those who fought also found war a waste.
Dorothea had never really discussed this topic with anyone before. Her own opinions were informed as far as literature would take them. It wasn’t exactly something she could discuss with her father and her uncle seemed to have little opinion on the matter. Vangelis was perhaps the first person that she could speak comfortably with about war. Though she wasn’t sure he wanted to discuss it much. It was hard to read her cousin, for he often seemed so silent and brooding. Not that she faulted him for it. Perhaps if she had seen so much bloodshed, she too would be reluctant to speak about it.
She certainly had it in mind to ask the women in his army, however. Dorothea felt inspired by the somewhat openness of the Colchian army, at least compared to that of Taengea and Athenia. To know that there were others out there that were just as talented as she was something Dorothea could only dream of at this point. Most women in Taengea did not appear to favor fighting or archery. While Dorothea had achieved some reputation for her skill, she feared it was more out respect for the goddess who had been thought to bestow the gift upon it than her actual skill. A blessing didn’t mean she hadn’t worked hard to ensure that her skill was worthy. There was plenty that she had to learn to do and much practice to ensure that she was excellent at it.
“I would like that,” she replied, “It is not often that I come upon women who are both talented and interested in archery. Not many of my peers here share my interest.”
As Vangelis had stopped shooting, Dorothea took the opportunity to send a quick arrow flying, sliding next to his bullseye. From a distance, it looked as if there was only one arrow. She sent another three in quick succession, forming a tight circle around his own. She briefly considered shooting one through his, but it seemed like an awful waste of an arrow when she had nothing to prove.
“This was an unexpected way to spend my afternoon, but enjoyable nonetheless. Thank you for shooting with me, cousin. I hope one day I will be able to meet with some of your archers. It would be my great honor.”
Even as she said that, she had no notion that it might be possible for her to one day do more than meet them, but join their ranks. That would be a greater honor yet.