Never, dear gods. Never mess with mortals. - Steven Erikson

Oh, we talk of progress, but what we really desire is the perpetuation of the present. With its seemingly endless excesses, its ravenous appetites. Ever the same rules, ever the same game.

"Oh, who has grasped hold of my soul this night? He found himself unhitching the sword, heard himself saying, "I don’t know if you have a weapon, Acquitor," and knew his own disbelief at the absurdity of his own words, the shallowness of his reasoning, "so I will give you mine ..." And he was holding the sheathed sword out to her.
At the threshold of her home.
Fear turned, studied him, but Trull could not look away from her, not even to see what must be realization dawning in his face.
Letherii though she was, Seren Pedac clearly understood, her gaze becoming confused, then clearing. "Just that, I take it. A weapon ... for me to use."
No. "Yes ... Acquitor. A weapon ..."
She accepted it, but the gesture was without meaning now."

Rely not upon conscience,’ Feren said, hearing the bitterness in her own voice and not caring. ‘It ever kneels to necessity.