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Mar. 17th, 2015 06:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sidewaysHowever the elves of the past arranged themselves, Lewen has little respect for modern monarchies and empires; choosing leaders by blood instead of aptitude makes no sense, and the mere concept of treason appals him. (Making speaking against your rule an offense punishable by death? That has nothing to do with what’s good for the people and everything to do with stoking the fires of your own power.) His controlling streak is therefore less about wanting everything to go his way and more about being one of the worst delegators in Thedas.
He honestly can’t help it. It’s nature as much as nurture, and since it’s served him well enough in a clan of approximately one hundred it’s not a characteristic he’s ever put much effort into suppressing. Unfortunately, a globally spread network of thousands cannot be managed the same way, and it’s a harder adjustment than the rest of the Inquisitorial responsibilities combined. Making huge, potentially world-shaking decisions? No problem. Making some of these decisions from a distance based entirely off reports and letting people he doesn’t personally know carry them out? Oh ye gods and little dragons.
It’s not that he doesn’t trust his advisors and the people they’ve picked – they’ve proven themselves a dozen times over by the time he gets the post – but it’s just not how he operates. It’s never been how he operates. As Keeper he could reasonably expect to talk to the individuals involved in any given incident, hear both sides of the story straight from the source, and make his choices accordingly. As newly-minted Inquisitor, he ends up sitting on his bed at three in the morning, half a chest’s worth of papers littered around him, wild-eyed with the realisation that even if he never sleeps again there is simply no way he can stay abreast of everything that is happening in this organisation.
The laws of physics may force him to accept his place despite his personal preferences, but there’s no shucking the urge entirely. In some ways it is still of use: the Inquisition is meant to be pushing for practical change, and the Inquisitor’s keen willingness to show up in person is highly representative of their Getting Shit Done platform. In other ways it can be rather dangerous: gargling the Well of Sorrows was a massive risk to take when the consequences were so unclear, and an irresponsible one given the anchor was still so necessary.
He never quite runs face-first into a breakdown, at least, though he can’t take much credit for that. Lewen established himself as a hands-on individual back when he was a simple agent, so by the time he’s Inquisitor the others have some idea of what to expect and effort is made to account for the fact the Lord Herald can’t be trusted to refer a messenger to Josephine if he thinks he can handle said message himself. The rest of the inner circle and even some of the captains and folks like Harding also get pretty adept at finding nice ways of saying with all due respect, your worship, sit down and let us do our jobs.
It’s still pretty exhausting, and sometimes there’s an exhilarating rush to be found in pondering on the scope of their achievements but sometimes it just rubs in the enforced isolation and something very akin to homesickness kicks in instead. He’s proud of many of the accomplishments made through the Inquisition, but he’s a faceless icon to faceless masses and that’s weird and wrong. Community is such an important thing to Lewen, and though the Dalish diaspora primes him for “his people” being a nebulous spread of strangers, it doesn’t prime him for having to be in charge of these people when he doesn’t know who they are and they don’t really know him.
He honestly can’t help it. It’s nature as much as nurture, and since it’s served him well enough in a clan of approximately one hundred it’s not a characteristic he’s ever put much effort into suppressing. Unfortunately, a globally spread network of thousands cannot be managed the same way, and it’s a harder adjustment than the rest of the Inquisitorial responsibilities combined. Making huge, potentially world-shaking decisions? No problem. Making some of these decisions from a distance based entirely off reports and letting people he doesn’t personally know carry them out? Oh ye gods and little dragons.
It’s not that he doesn’t trust his advisors and the people they’ve picked – they’ve proven themselves a dozen times over by the time he gets the post – but it’s just not how he operates. It’s never been how he operates. As Keeper he could reasonably expect to talk to the individuals involved in any given incident, hear both sides of the story straight from the source, and make his choices accordingly. As newly-minted Inquisitor, he ends up sitting on his bed at three in the morning, half a chest’s worth of papers littered around him, wild-eyed with the realisation that even if he never sleeps again there is simply no way he can stay abreast of everything that is happening in this organisation.
The laws of physics may force him to accept his place despite his personal preferences, but there’s no shucking the urge entirely. In some ways it is still of use: the Inquisition is meant to be pushing for practical change, and the Inquisitor’s keen willingness to show up in person is highly representative of their Getting Shit Done platform. In other ways it can be rather dangerous: gargling the Well of Sorrows was a massive risk to take when the consequences were so unclear, and an irresponsible one given the anchor was still so necessary.
He never quite runs face-first into a breakdown, at least, though he can’t take much credit for that. Lewen established himself as a hands-on individual back when he was a simple agent, so by the time he’s Inquisitor the others have some idea of what to expect and effort is made to account for the fact the Lord Herald can’t be trusted to refer a messenger to Josephine if he thinks he can handle said message himself. The rest of the inner circle and even some of the captains and folks like Harding also get pretty adept at finding nice ways of saying with all due respect, your worship, sit down and let us do our jobs.
It’s still pretty exhausting, and sometimes there’s an exhilarating rush to be found in pondering on the scope of their achievements but sometimes it just rubs in the enforced isolation and something very akin to homesickness kicks in instead. He’s proud of many of the accomplishments made through the Inquisition, but he’s a faceless icon to faceless masses and that’s weird and wrong. Community is such an important thing to Lewen, and though the Dalish diaspora primes him for “his people” being a nebulous spread of strangers, it doesn’t prime him for having to be in charge of these people when he doesn’t know who they are and they don’t really know him.
