I couldn't avoid the opportunity, there was a canvas calling to me.
Really? You'd have made an excellent cultivator where I come from; you're artistic, you play music from what I've heard, you're well-organized. It's a lot of hats for one man to wear, but isn't that our lot in life?
I'm glad it did. It was nice to see something more realized than what you were painting on the sidewalk in my dreams.
It might be too many hats to wear when there's not enough hours in the day. Between the safehouse, the bar, and everything in-between, music might have to take a backseat for a while. I'll have to speak to the manager at the restaurant, but a part of me will miss playing on a real piano.
You could always swing by and have a listen, before I do that.
I'm a little rusty with my compositions, it's been close to two decades since I'd really been able to sit and focus on creating something other than corpses.
I'd love to, mister Markus. I dreamed an instrument of my own into existence recently, and given the opportunity, I'd love to play a final duet if your manager isn't able to accommodate your needs. You select any piece, I've got a good ear for music.
[ he can play a piece.... even if he's only ever heard it once.......... #wowza ]
The technical explanation is that if cultivation encompasses and oversee the process of pacifying restless spirits, then demonic cultivation is the process of utilizing that restless energy instead of ignoring its existence. Raising the dead, is what I mean. It's what I did. Do. I think it's why I'm able to make the living do my bidding in this place, isn't that terrible? How ironic.
Well. At first it was because it was war. And we were all threatened by a horrible, destructive sect. They killed those who defied them, subjugated the survivors, destroyed the place I called home -- and later, I guess... I just. Wanted to make a new home? So, I controlled the dead and I did it through music. I can't remember it very well, all the memories are jumbled up.
I'm not saying I was a good person, I'm just trying to be one now. Promise.
I never said dirty. But from my standpoint, to say it's morally ambiguous would be an understatement.
[But then those magic words flash across his implant. I'm not saying I was a good person, I'm just trying to be one now. If there's anything that will unearth Markus' deep well of "Give someone the benefit of the doubt", it's this. It's always this.]
I believe you, though. It's easy to fall into that trap of "desperate times call for desperate measures". [EVEN IF IT ISN'T ALWAYS THE GREATEST CHOICE] So your music plays into all of this?
Where I came from, it was completely immoral. Nonetheless, people benefited from my actions and accepted that, so who's the real immoral one, hah!
[ he says it in a way that suggests his implant is running away and transcribing his thoughts along with his chatter ]
Yes, though. I played music to control my restless ones, and now that seems to have extended into the realm of the living. They retain their minds after I finish playing, I can just... make them susceptible to my influence. A whistle will do it as well as Chenqing. My flute.
And so now you have a power in this world to match it? That's a growing trend, you know; that our powers here are complimented to either our situations back home, or our personalities now.
So why the change of heart?
[That might be too personal of a question, but here Markus is asking it. Why make the choice from "immoral" to "trying to be a better person"? They say hindsight is 20/20, and he wonders if this is just a consequence of that idiom come to life.]
[ he understands, from documentation and from an abortive attempt of his own to draw on his extended cultivation base, that while he maintains his strength, his agility - things he's trained for years to possess ( that mo xuanyu, had trained to possess ), his core is out of his reach. raising the dead may be an impossibility now, but controlling the living isn't.
why the change of heart ]
I died, mister Markus. I can't say it puts things into perspective, dying alone and vilified by the world, but it really makes one take a look at their legacy and realize: oof, I think I'll try to do better, with this second chance.
[There is a faint pang of empathy at that, a parallel running of circumstances that his own mind flickers back to. He should have died, too, that night -- waking up, sodden in mud and broken, surrounded by the corpses of other androids tossed away much like himself.
It does shift a perspective, he'd argue, sometimes in illuminating ways.]
That says a lot for your character, you know. "Dying alone and vilified" can inspire less flattering characteristics in lesser men.
[He thinks there might've been a healthy dose of regret involved, too, but Markus won't say that much.]
[ thought-to-text even captures his sounds of assent, it seems. ]
Oh my gosh, you're such a charmer! How flattering of you to think so highly of little ol' me. I was a terrible person, mister Markus. Even though I've got a new body now, I think parts of me are still prone to remembering bad habits. What about you, though? You were an android. I felt what it was like, just a little.
Did it feel like dying, when you found yourself made of flesh and blood?
I'd prefer to judge people based on how they move forward with their lives, rather than what they've left behind.
[In other words, he might've been a bad person, but Markus presides over faith rather than doubt. It's no different now.]
I don't know how to explain it. There aren't words to describe how that first day went, when I arrived here.
[But he can try.]
Imagine all of your nerves kept tightly packed, and then suddenly ripped free and strung out for miles. Picking up every little sensation, every feeling, ones you were never built to process. Like being stretched too thin with no filter, and no choice but to accept it all in a rush.
Overwhelming, in other words. Not like dying, but like being expanded. A different kind of sensate.
[ he remembers, piecemeal, how stifling it had been - caught in a body so numb to pressure and sensation, inside of markus's dream. how eager he had been to force himself through, scared of the commands and the way it would have been so easy to follow them. he'd rebelled, only because he had been aware of who he was. what was it like, for markus-of-flesh to have had a moment to return to himself, as he'd always been, only to wake afterwards in flesh again? ]
I'm surprised you weren't driven insane, coming into such an overwhelming existence so suddenly. Wen Ning -- he said it was the opposite, when he woke up. Life had become an exercise in numbness, his muscles had decayed. Smiling was no longer a thing that came easy to him, though his emotions were still all intact. I had to work his muscles daily, to make sure they didn't lock up overnight. And he was the most perfect of them all.
When I died, I just -- I remember tearing apart. Like paper, or thinly-sliced meat for a hotpot.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@xuanyu.mo
Bit of a proper gentleman-scholar, aren't you?
no subject
I've never been called a gentleman-scholar before.
no subject
Really? You'd have made an excellent cultivator where I come from; you're artistic, you play music from what I've heard, you're well-organized. It's a lot of hats for one man to wear, but isn't that our lot in life?
no subject
It might be too many hats to wear when there's not enough hours in the day. Between the safehouse, the bar, and everything in-between, music might have to take a backseat for a while. I'll have to speak to the manager at the restaurant, but a part of me will miss playing on a real piano.
You could always swing by and have a listen, before I do that.
no subject
I'd love to, mister Markus. I dreamed an instrument of my own into existence recently, and given the opportunity, I'd love to play a final duet if your manager isn't able to accommodate your needs. You select any piece, I've got a good ear for music.
[ he can play a piece.... even if he's only ever heard it once.......... #wowza ]
no subject
But also what.
Rewind.]
Sorry, but 'corpses'?
no subject
They were already dead, I just recycled them a little.
Don't worry, I can't do such things in this place.
no subject
You can't say something like that and not expect me to ask. What do you mean you 'created' corpses?
no subject
The technical explanation is that if cultivation encompasses and oversee the process of pacifying restless spirits, then demonic cultivation is the process of utilizing that restless energy instead of ignoring its existence. Raising the dead, is what I mean. It's what I did. Do. I think it's why I'm able to make the living do my bidding in this place, isn't that terrible? How ironic.
no subject
You raised the dead.
For what purpose? And your power reflects that now?
[We can get into the moral grey areas about this after we clarify, maybe, the main points.]
no subject
Well. At first it was because it was war. And we were all threatened by a horrible, destructive sect. They killed those who defied them, subjugated the survivors, destroyed the place I called home -- and later, I guess... I just. Wanted to make a new home? So, I controlled the dead and I did it through music. I can't remember it very well, all the memories are jumbled up.
I'm not saying I was a good person, I'm just trying to be one now. Promise.
no subject
[But then those magic words flash across his implant. I'm not saying I was a good person, I'm just trying to be one now. If there's anything that will unearth Markus' deep well of "Give someone the benefit of the doubt", it's this. It's always this.]
I believe you, though. It's easy to fall into that trap of "desperate times call for desperate measures". [EVEN IF IT ISN'T ALWAYS THE GREATEST CHOICE] So your music plays into all of this?
no subject
[ he says it in a way that suggests his implant is running away and transcribing his thoughts along with his chatter ]
Yes, though. I played music to control my restless ones, and now that seems to have extended into the realm of the living. They retain their minds after I finish playing, I can just... make them susceptible to my influence. A whistle will do it as well as Chenqing. My flute.
no subject
So why the change of heart?
[That might be too personal of a question, but here Markus is asking it. Why make the choice from "immoral" to "trying to be a better person"? They say hindsight is 20/20, and he wonders if this is just a consequence of that idiom come to life.]
no subject
[ he understands, from documentation and from an abortive attempt of his own to draw on his extended cultivation base, that while he maintains his strength, his agility - things he's trained for years to possess ( that mo xuanyu, had trained to possess ), his core is out of his reach. raising the dead may be an impossibility now, but controlling the living isn't.
why the change of heart ]
I died, mister Markus. I can't say it puts things into perspective, dying alone and vilified by the world, but it really makes one take a look at their legacy and realize: oof, I think I'll try to do better, with this second chance.
no subject
[There is a faint pang of empathy at that, a parallel running of circumstances that his own mind flickers back to. He should have died, too, that night -- waking up, sodden in mud and broken, surrounded by the corpses of other androids tossed away much like himself.
It does shift a perspective, he'd argue, sometimes in illuminating ways.]
That says a lot for your character, you know. "Dying alone and vilified" can inspire less flattering characteristics in lesser men.
[He thinks there might've been a healthy dose of regret involved, too, but Markus won't say that much.]
You should be proud.
"lesser men" suck it ardyn
[ thought-to-text even captures his sounds of assent, it seems. ]
Oh my gosh, you're such a charmer! How flattering of you to think so highly of little ol' me. I was a terrible person, mister Markus. Even though I've got a new body now, I think parts of me are still prone to remembering bad habits. What about you, though? You were an android. I felt what it was like, just a little.
Did it feel like dying, when you found yourself made of flesh and blood?
ehuehue dragging my own character
[In other words, he might've been a bad person, but Markus presides over faith rather than doubt. It's no different now.]
I don't know how to explain it. There aren't words to describe how that first day went, when I arrived here.
[But he can try.]
Imagine all of your nerves kept tightly packed, and then suddenly ripped free and strung out for miles. Picking up every little sensation, every feeling, ones you were never built to process. Like being stretched too thin with no filter, and no choice but to accept it all in a rush.
Overwhelming, in other words. Not like dying, but like being expanded. A different kind of sensate.
no subject
[ he remembers, piecemeal, how stifling it had been - caught in a body so numb to pressure and sensation, inside of markus's dream. how eager he had been to force himself through, scared of the commands and the way it would have been so easy to follow them. he'd rebelled, only because he had been aware of who he was. what was it like, for markus-of-flesh to have had a moment to return to himself, as he'd always been, only to wake afterwards in flesh again? ]
I'm surprised you weren't driven insane, coming into such an overwhelming existence so suddenly. Wen Ning -- he said it was the opposite, when he woke up. Life had become an exercise in numbness, his muscles had decayed. Smiling was no longer a thing that came easy to him, though his emotions were still all intact. I had to work his muscles daily, to make sure they didn't lock up overnight. And he was the most perfect of them all.
When I died, I just -- I remember tearing apart. Like paper, or thinly-sliced meat for a hotpot.