“You can’t coddle people either, Jayati. There’s a reason there’s interest in this at all. People are tired of hiding. An eternity is a long time to make oneself small enough to keep humans comfortable.” That was both literal and metaphorical. Some, like herself, were literally making themselves smaller. He was more of the metaphorical set. “Weren’t you the one who was insisting we should all embrace who we are?” Mircea looked around him and saw the the same energy bubbling under the surface as he saw before the storming of the Bastille, before the Romanovs were kidnapped, before the Silent Sentinels were arrested while picketing the White House, before the March on Washington and the Selma to Montgomery march, before and after Stonewall. Spirit couldn’t be contained forever. It was only a matter of time before this sanctuary became a pressure cooker. And wasn’t that more dangerous? Waiting until everything exploded? Because it would. It always did.
“It’s happening either way,” he pointed out. “With or without my involvement. I can easily back out now—“ but of course he wouldn’t “—but then you’re relying on your sister and this mystery Fae lady to run the show. I’ve seen revolutions succeed, I’ve seen them fail, I’ve seen them end only after copious bloodshed and I’ve seen them solved with a few words and signatures on a piece of paper. I know what I’m talking about. They don’t. They’re just young and angry. But I’m not. Not that angry anyway.” It was a lame attempt at a joke, but eh.