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Hypocrisy At Its Finest.

Acosmism

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These notices would be pinned in every single place imaginable in the sewers and crookback, amongst the smoldering ash of what once was a lovely home. Familiar smudged ink spread across the wilted parchment in haste.


___________________​

Hypocrisy. Lies. Deception. Cowardice. Fear.

You call for us to stand. You want to fight against oppression. But you cannot expect to do such a thing without retaliation. Retaliation is always in store, and the fact that you are siding with those on the surface who are the very source of your suffering just because a few of your precious ships burned is fucking pathetic.

What we burned was not hollow, it was not done unjust, it was not uncalled for. We didn't start the fire, but the people who killed our kin did. We only provided them with a fair warning. In return, they burn our homes. And you are mad at the people who actually fought back for once? Are you blind? Can you not see that if we work together, they could be stopped? These smoldering buildings and ashes fallen upon water only represent our built up anger. It only represents what we could be doing to the Empire. But no, you stay safe, locked away in cowardice in your bases and collectives, and attack the people working hard to protect you.

Capture me, hand me over to the state, do all you want with me. But when they're burning your bodies, don't cry my name, nor anyone else's who participated in the torching of the rich. Die slowly if it's what you want — they'll take advantage of your weak place right now. Oh, and they know all too well, what with your handy little notices. So do it. Accept your defeat, or stand with us to fight back.

I consider myself a pacifist, but there are some things not worth debating over, especially when you've been trying for over two centuries. Diplomacy will not work. We MUST fight back eventually. Petty theft and minor vandalism is obsolete. Make this city burn for what they've done to you, and if not you, your kin.

Hypocrites.

Mother Wymarc
Desprincess of the Athanasia Scion
Lady of the Gallovian Caves
Blossom of the Murk
 
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You speak many words for a fire starter, perhaps you should have build bridges instead of tainting parks, kindle co-operation instead of start fires. You speak many words, perhaps use them from the start instead of only after you've face a real threat.


Walk always in the light of the Spirit
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The Desert Rose Paladin of the Lion Pelt Order
Kommandant of the Ivorymane Company​


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"You always tell us to stop complaining, if we want things to change. We must take action instead of just yelling about it on posters and the streets. So we finally do that and you're the ones mad at us? For doing what /you/ told us to.? Unbelievable."
Mumbled the Dark Sorcerer who then kept walking off.
 
"You should have every flower that is upon your body be ripped and burned in a similar manner of the burning of Petal Court. You speak so eloquently and beaming with confidence for a self proclaimed flower mother that loves to see such flowers wither and die. I suppose it does take big balls to participate in such a disastrous, hostile act. I'll give you that.

Inara Xi'llieth"
 
"Praise the Bard, Strum the Cords.

If a line simultaneously speaks of your pacifism when all you have done is burn, corrupt, and seek revenge upon a Archblood and the surface. It is a line of hypocrisy in itself, the pacifist is like a bard we bark but our vengeance doesn't draw blood. Our vengeance is in your coin, your reputation, the realtionships of your beloved, maybe at most a slap of an instrument.

You are not us, you are not pacifists even we claim the title tentatively. I am more a pacifist then most if only because I never draw blood with threats and acts."
 
Firn gave a soft sigh as he peered over the papers. "I see what you mean Mira, but... it didn't have to go this far did it? So many people left homeless or jobless... why?"
—————————————————————
Ailwin sat at the Nook's piano, playing a little melody. It was not long before he sensed the telltale odor of smoke on the wind, though. The tune stopped on a sour note, as he felt himself whisked back to unpleasant memories. Blue flames crawled their way back down his arms as he reminisced...