[ She settles back against the wall, a deliberate gesture meant to signal a transition into okay here comes a story, follow good story-listening convention and stay quiet until it's done. ]
When I was younger, I spent a good deal of time moving across the continent. After several years, I met a man who wandered from village to village, town to town. He made a point of taking the most dangerous jobs available, where proprietors in pursuit of short-term gains cared very little about protecting the people who kept their enterprises running. The traveler was inevitably injured or killed -- which is less drastic than it sounds, because the man was a disguised god, and who was terrible at taking care of himself in any case. The traveler let his own battered body serve as a silent rebuke to those proprietors before moving on to another village. There were a good many places with dangerous work, you see, and he had certain obligations to fulfill. Being a god, he had a good deal of time -- but that didn't stop what he was doing from being incredibly inefficient. There were too many selfish people in any given town, and too many selfish people dominating the world outside, putting pressure on people to make decisions that would hurt themselves or others down the road.
[ The smile remains on her lips, and her tone stays conversational. She might not have her mother's flare for artistic descriptions, but she can get out the facts without any fuss. ]
Two lessons come to mind, thinking back on those years. First, people can be good and wise, and people can be selfish and short-sighted, whether they've been in one place for a day or their whole lives. Second, trusting people to see the error of their ways is ineffective nine times out of ten.
And while there are still things to learn, that's why I have no qualms with telling Chantes what it needs, and acting to see those needs fulfilled.
no subject
When I was younger, I spent a good deal of time moving across the continent. After several years, I met a man who wandered from village to village, town to town. He made a point of taking the most dangerous jobs available, where proprietors in pursuit of short-term gains cared very little about protecting the people who kept their enterprises running. The traveler was inevitably injured or killed -- which is less drastic than it sounds, because the man was a disguised god, and who was terrible at taking care of himself in any case. The traveler let his own battered body serve as a silent rebuke to those proprietors before moving on to another village. There were a good many places with dangerous work, you see, and he had certain obligations to fulfill. Being a god, he had a good deal of time -- but that didn't stop what he was doing from being incredibly inefficient. There were too many selfish people in any given town, and too many selfish people dominating the world outside, putting pressure on people to make decisions that would hurt themselves or others down the road.
[ The smile remains on her lips, and her tone stays conversational. She might not have her mother's flare for artistic descriptions, but she can get out the facts without any fuss. ]
Two lessons come to mind, thinking back on those years. First, people can be good and wise, and people can be selfish and short-sighted, whether they've been in one place for a day or their whole lives. Second, trusting people to see the error of their ways is ineffective nine times out of ten.
And while there are still things to learn, that's why I have no qualms with telling Chantes what it needs, and acting to see those needs fulfilled.