This is the same argument we've been having for years, Silco. It's the same gripe, over and over. So let me break it down for you, again:
[So much for ignoring the other man. It was hard when Silco was battering against him, clamoring for his attention like a starved child and flinging anything at the wall to needle, prod and poke at him. He was no better he had the good sense to recognize, how they provoked each other, how the cannery had split open all the old wounds inflicted on one another over the years.
He slowly turned again, looking at Silco from the relatively safe distance between them. He made no motion to close it again.]
Yes, I made a deal with the Sheriff of the Enforcers. No, no one outside of Benzo and a select few knew about it. Yes, the whispers were abound with the idea of. We stay out of Piltover's business and she keeps the Enforcers strictly to investigating crimes that can't be overlooked. [He closed his eyes. Grace hadn't... deserved the fate she suffered.] It bought us time because I'm sure you could guess the alternative after the Day of Ash. It was a good deal, the best we were going to get with a pile of dead Enforcers.
[That wasn't counting their own dead, the lost souls left behind who had to pick up the pieces. People had wanted to fight, and Vander had made it clear that they had been given concessions. Things in certain industries had improved, the mines where he knew the conditions were the worst. It was progress that stalled out, but his goal, his talks, his nudges were all to protect their people. It's all he ever wanted: a better life.
He reached up, pushing his fingers through his hair, and his eyes dropped away again as he glanced at the banner. The translation sounded in his ear. That was enough of that; there would be no solving this and no discussion about it with someone who might actually be more insightful than he was. No, it was just Silco hissing and spitting nearby, and Vander had had enough to trying to divide his attention for his own sanity.
Silco was the larger threat. So, that's where he finally decided to settle his attention for the moment. He knew it was best to walk away, to be called a coward because to stay was to be called a violent brute. No win situation.
Yet, Vander shrugged his shoulders at Silco's little tirade about the Lanes. He stared at the other man, studying the deep lines on the left side of his face, the glaring orange iris that was all accusation regardless of where it was pointed. He set his hands on his hips and kicked a stone half hidden in the grass.]
You're right. We didn't do enough. The undercity united for a single fraction of a moment in our history once, and when the losses piled up, they went back to the abuses that you and I and everyone else we championed couldn't solve. The slums grew, kids starved in the streets, people died at work or coming home from it. I still can smell in incense to chase away the smell of death and rot.
[He set his jaw as he stared at Silco.]
The Lanes and the undercity under your rule I can't comment about. I wasn't there, but I expect people just wanted to live, to have a better life. Just as we promised. Clean air, a family, hope for the future. Did you provide that to them, Silco? Did you provide every day workers, labours, children, and the slums that? Tell me you did all of that.
[In his mind's eye, he could still see the Zaun he and Silco dreamed about. The smog of industry gone, the levels of the undercity illuminated and thriving with actual greenery. Businesses opening, gangs still around but offering community protection, education, life skills, not just recruitment for a strength of numbers. People wanting to be in the streets, celebrating, being a part of an ongoing solution and not the problems. People living, not just surviving.]
You don't sound surprised. I suppose I'm not either. The dream only seemed to work when we laboured at it together.
[He said the last sentence automatically, like it was a thought he'd been having yet had previously had no intention of voicing.]
no subject
[So much for ignoring the other man. It was hard when Silco was battering against him, clamoring for his attention like a starved child and flinging anything at the wall to needle, prod and poke at him. He was no better he had the good sense to recognize, how they provoked each other, how the cannery had split open all the old wounds inflicted on one another over the years.
He slowly turned again, looking at Silco from the relatively safe distance between them. He made no motion to close it again.]
Yes, I made a deal with the Sheriff of the Enforcers. No, no one outside of Benzo and a select few knew about it. Yes, the whispers were abound with the idea of. We stay out of Piltover's business and she keeps the Enforcers strictly to investigating crimes that can't be overlooked. [He closed his eyes. Grace hadn't... deserved the fate she suffered.] It bought us time because I'm sure you could guess the alternative after the Day of Ash. It was a good deal, the best we were going to get with a pile of dead Enforcers.
[That wasn't counting their own dead, the lost souls left behind who had to pick up the pieces. People had wanted to fight, and Vander had made it clear that they had been given concessions. Things in certain industries had improved, the mines where he knew the conditions were the worst. It was progress that stalled out, but his goal, his talks, his nudges were all to protect their people. It's all he ever wanted: a better life.
He reached up, pushing his fingers through his hair, and his eyes dropped away again as he glanced at the banner. The translation sounded in his ear. That was enough of that; there would be no solving this and no discussion about it with someone who might actually be more insightful than he was. No, it was just Silco hissing and spitting nearby, and Vander had had enough to trying to divide his attention for his own sanity.
Silco was the larger threat. So, that's where he finally decided to settle his attention for the moment. He knew it was best to walk away, to be called a coward because to stay was to be called a violent brute. No win situation.
Yet, Vander shrugged his shoulders at Silco's little tirade about the Lanes. He stared at the other man, studying the deep lines on the left side of his face, the glaring orange iris that was all accusation regardless of where it was pointed. He set his hands on his hips and kicked a stone half hidden in the grass.]
You're right. We didn't do enough. The undercity united for a single fraction of a moment in our history once, and when the losses piled up, they went back to the abuses that you and I and everyone else we championed couldn't solve. The slums grew, kids starved in the streets, people died at work or coming home from it. I still can smell in incense to chase away the smell of death and rot.
[He set his jaw as he stared at Silco.]
The Lanes and the undercity under your rule I can't comment about. I wasn't there, but I expect people just wanted to live, to have a better life. Just as we promised. Clean air, a family, hope for the future. Did you provide that to them, Silco? Did you provide every day workers, labours, children, and the slums that? Tell me you did all of that.
[In his mind's eye, he could still see the Zaun he and Silco dreamed about. The smog of industry gone, the levels of the undercity illuminated and thriving with actual greenery. Businesses opening, gangs still around but offering community protection, education, life skills, not just recruitment for a strength of numbers. People wanting to be in the streets, celebrating, being a part of an ongoing solution and not the problems. People living, not just surviving.]
You don't sound surprised. I suppose I'm not either. The dream only seemed to work when we laboured at it together.
[He said the last sentence automatically, like it was a thought he'd been having yet had previously had no intention of voicing.]