Yonca stared at Desi as he explained his thoughts. She blinked, her expression becoming more and more contemplative. Frowning softly, she set the journal on the log and placed her hands in her lap. She gazed up at the other. After a moment of silence, she sighed.
“You are not ridiculous for not wanting to hurt another.” She began slowly, her words quiet and carefully measured, “It would be wonderful if we lived in a world that didn’t require... bloodshed, or anything of that nature.” Yonca’s fingers began to fidget with the folds of her dress, “But, the templars.... They are created to continue the bloodshed and I am afraid that the Chantry has made it a world that does require bloodshed for... freedom.” She gulped, remembering the words her Papa had spoken to her, the notes her Caretaker made her write. Yonca glanced at Desi, slowly realizing he was much more naive when it came to the the outside world and what it took to survive as an apostate.
“The reality is the templar has your blood, Desiderio. He won’t give it back without some sort of violence or mind control.” Yonca paused, “Do not worry, I will do most of the work...” She glanced at the spot beside her on the log. Moving the journal back into her lap, she gestured towards the spot, “Please, sit.”