It's a bit funny, if only that... well. Iria once thrived under a system not so dissimilar, where a wise council voted to steer the country forward. Now, under a long-running monarchy, that feels like a brilliant, beautiful dream. And living a piece of it, small as it is... it makes me wonder how they felt, when the choices they made were not ones they necessarily agreed upon. Or, moreso, when those choices had consequences. How reality tends to pour water on the rose colored visions of what once was.

[ like a nerd, he has to bring it back to this kind of thing, but it's how he processes. the paradise of the witengamot maybe wasn't that much of a paradise. these perspectives are so important to consider, no matter the context.

he finally takes a sip of his drink, slow, thoughtful, letting it swirl through his memories. ]

In the end, I chose to vote for the truth. But... my heart aches, in doing so. I can empathize so much with how it feels to be powerless.