The flush became an abrupt chill, and something heavy sank into the pit of Nathanial's stomach, his chest tightening. He'd always known Tenebrae was cold. It came with the territory, really. At its heart, the Temple was an institution of selfish people, people who feared death so much and believed so strongly that it could be overcome that they were able to work together.
But they were selfish. They were practical. They were arrogant. Nathanial was one of the few who recognised that last trait.
Tenebrae was cold. It was a fact Nathanial accepted and kept in mind. The High Priest was not a man to be crossed. That was how he had to be, to have made it to his position.
But this ... this went beyond the pale. Solomon Wreath had been in the service to the Temple for nearly four hundred years. He was eccentric in his dealings, it was true, but he had done a great deal more for the Temple's relationship with the outside world, and in some ways its research and artefacts, than most other clerics were even aware. Tenebrae was aware.
And for the sake of research, he would simply throw this man to the wolves. Never mind his years of service. Never mind his faithfulness. Never mind the warnings he'd spoken. Solomon was seeing the lifestream. He had seen something bad in his own magic--something enough to cause him to refuse it--and Tenebrae was simply ignoring it.
Nathanial was willing to follow Tenebrae because he was powerful, political, and authoritative. But Nathanial had rejected the previous High Priest when the man proved he was no longer fit to lead. He had proven it by displaying the traits of close-mindedness, traits which indicated he had become to secure in his thinking and his power. That was dangerous in a leader. A leader had to accept all counts--even those which proved him wrong.
In that moment, Nathanial saw Tenebrae not as his superior, but as a threat.
"Logical," he said steadily, without any hint that he had thought anything odd at all. Because he was currently standing before the leader of the Irish Temple, because that leader had already proven how cruelly he could turn on someone he perceived as traitor, Nathanial had no choice but to follow the man's train of thought. "The conduit appears to be in his eyes. Not reliant upon it, but where it is strongest. The question, then, is what manner of damage would retain the ability."
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But they were selfish. They were practical. They were arrogant. Nathanial was one of the few who recognised that last trait.
Tenebrae was cold. It was a fact Nathanial accepted and kept in mind. The High Priest was not a man to be crossed. That was how he had to be, to have made it to his position.
But this ... this went beyond the pale. Solomon Wreath had been in the service to the Temple for nearly four hundred years. He was eccentric in his dealings, it was true, but he had done a great deal more for the Temple's relationship with the outside world, and in some ways its research and artefacts, than most other clerics were even aware. Tenebrae was aware.
And for the sake of research, he would simply throw this man to the wolves. Never mind his years of service. Never mind his faithfulness. Never mind the warnings he'd spoken. Solomon was seeing the lifestream. He had seen something bad in his own magic--something enough to cause him to refuse it--and Tenebrae was simply ignoring it.
Nathanial was willing to follow Tenebrae because he was powerful, political, and authoritative. But Nathanial had rejected the previous High Priest when the man proved he was no longer fit to lead. He had proven it by displaying the traits of close-mindedness, traits which indicated he had become to secure in his thinking and his power. That was dangerous in a leader. A leader had to accept all counts--even those which proved him wrong.
In that moment, Nathanial saw Tenebrae not as his superior, but as a threat.
"Logical," he said steadily, without any hint that he had thought anything odd at all. Because he was currently standing before the leader of the Irish Temple, because that leader had already proven how cruelly he could turn on someone he perceived as traitor, Nathanial had no choice but to follow the man's train of thought. "The conduit appears to be in his eyes. Not reliant upon it, but where it is strongest. The question, then, is what manner of damage would retain the ability."