SNAP.
:- But someone has to do this, right. And Savil - wouldn't be giving up as many years as anyone else on the team:
A sort of mental shrug. :Some? But we've gotten a lot better at redundancy, and - well, now we know that we don't need to prepare for war with you, right. We've got your help, in fact:
Vanyel REALLY HATES that his mind insists on generating all the arguments Savil would make to him, up front.
Vanyel takes a deep breath. Lets it out.
:...Yes. I think so. It'd - mean something, right? And...I'm just a lot more, er, stable now, in general. Mandos fixed the broken lifebond:
It's surprising, and kind of fascinating, how much Leareth hates having this conversation.
:- Could you actually do it:
Vanyel starts to answer, then stops, and makes himself actually think about it.
:Pretty sure I could. It'd - mean something, right? And, well, Heralds almost never die in our beds. There's - something to be grateful for, almost, if it's - a time and place you chose. And you know what you're trading your life for. I think that...would matter, to her:
Leareth spends a long moment thinking about whether he believes Vanyel on that.
The issue with even proposing this as an idea is that Vanyel is...far too prone to choosing the path that involves him having to sacrifice something instead of someone else doing so, and might feel like he didn't have a choice.
- he believes him this time, though. And it's not like there's any possible path, here, where no one gets hurt. He wonders, vaguely, if Tony or Captain America are married, if they have children...
:I suppose you should ask her:
Vanyel knows Savil almost as well as he knows himself - better, in some ways, sometimes it's easier to look another person's strengths and weaknesses head-on than to look at your own - and he's not in any doubt about what she's going to say.
He has to ask anyway, of course, so he does.
After a few more seconds, Vanyel relays the answer to Leareth.
:She says she's got to be more replaceable than almost any of these people here on Earth, given that you've apparently got another couple hundred Adepts stashed in your back pocket. Er, there is the thing where Kellan would be choosing it alongside her, but he agrees, and...:
There isn't really anything else to say.
Leareth relays this answer to Strange.
:- I am obviously not delighted with this plan, but it - has its upsides, on the replaceability aspect. I trust them both absolutely - to be able to carry through with it, without any last minute qualms or fighting over who should be the sacrifice. I think you can assess better than I can how it affects our total available forces on a strategic level:
"Everyone but me, Tony, Strange, and these three—" he gestures to Leareth, Vanyel, and Savil—"take another five, please."
"The Soul Stone. It—demands a sacrifice. Someone the wielder loves."
"And you didn't tell me so I couldn't volunteer, I presume—who did you have in mind—"
And she goes silent as she realizes.
"We don't trade lives." He echoes this in his public thoughts as he says it, so that the Valdemarans can understand. It's an answer for Savil as well as Nat.
Savil, on the other hand, gives Captain America an incredibly dubious look.
:...I mean, it's not a comfortable way to think of it. I get that. And - I get that it's different, when it's just - choosing your personnel deployments, who gets sent into danger when, and it's not for sure. But, I don't know – it never feels that different, in the end, when you put a name on a list to send your student to the border, and six months later the Death Bell rings for them, and you know it was your decision...:
:I let one of my closest friends call a Final Strike, once. I didn't even try to talk her out of it. Because the alternative - me pulling a bunch of power myself - would've caused a lot of collateral damage and probably killed hundreds of innocent civilians. And it - just made more sense, strategically, for her to make that sacrifice:
Vanyel's mindvoice is very level. There's grief, there, but it's a long time ago. Water under the bridge.
:There's a saying, you know, that Heralds almost never die in our beds. We made a vow, and we trade our lives for Valdemar. Usually for so, so much less than what's at stake here - gods, and without even knowing if it'll work out and buy anything at all:
She glances at Captain America, then at the others.
:Honestly, if we're going to send anyone to do this, I reckon we should send someone who's comfortable with the concept: