Deteca was about to quietly agree with his statement when Deveraux attacked a vase and screamed at her, and she jumped back a little like a startled songling. His eyes were rabid, his breathing hard, and she could only stare as he insisted all that they’d done was nothing, wasted effort. At first there was only shock and taking it in, but anger rose hot and swift as Taldain’s first sun, with a weight to match.
“Nothing?” she repeated near-silently. “Nothing has changed? All the good we’ve done, the people we’ve saved, those who find another day to live or the food to live it with because of us, the armies we’ve helped fight off, and all while keeping it together inside, not being accused by the government like some, not attacking other guilds unprovoked like some, not warring internally like some - all of that, and you call it wasted?”
She hissed her words now, choking on the distinct feeling of betrayal from someone she looked up to. The man who’d founded the cause that became her life’s purpose, her family, and her home all in one...and he thought everything she had put her life toward meant nothing, because they were still in the DA’s shadow. We’ll always be in their shadow. They aren’t leaving, and there’s no changing the fact that they were the first, inextricably threading through almost every event in history. If he was still looking to bring down the Dark Alley, then Deveraux needed to wake up. It wasn’t happening. It hurt, that an organization which hurt people in the name of learning would never go away, that this wasn’t like a story where the heroes defeated the evil in the end. It had taken her a long time to accept that, at first.
But she had. This evil was staying, because this wasn’t a story. It was simply life, messy and coded in grays, and in real life the bad guys didn’t just conveniently lose. Or lose at all, sometimes.
Despite that, TUBA was doing good. They were saving lives. They were making things better. Not all things, but some. That was worth it. “Were we supposed to just ignore the rest of the world? Go off and kill ourselves denting the DA just for the sake of making an impact, when we’d barely be doing that? Let’s not make a Ferring out of a Fullborn here - they’re more powerful than we are. There are other ways to help the worlds we live on.” She realized her hand was flat against the table that ran the length of the wall and consciously relaxed it.
“So, no, I don’t understand what you’re saying. I apologize if I have sounded heated,” Deteca closed with, trying to deescalate by retreating into her more formal tone.