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This month is the Klingon month Soo'jen or 'Glory'. It is perhaps fitting that I should meet my other self in such a month. He did glory to his people and those who he encountered upon those ship.
Each attempt to strip his Klingon honour away from him was repelled and he found honour in resistance. Honour here, I find, is thin on the ground. There are few enemies to fight, beyond those childish to believe that a tantrum against our Exalted Admiral will gain them points or fear is a valued weapon where amnesia is common and ennui more so.
Death has no meaning. And I mean not in the human sense of the meaning of death, yes, I see the oblivion as much as a human or Vulcan or Time Lord would, but it is a mere shutdown, not unlike what an AI might experience should you deactivate it, but that is not meaning.
It is so limited. It pays no respect to the life led before it, reducing it to mere automatic functions to be reset if it 'malfunctions'.
I have never felt the desire to simply vanish before I arrived in this place.
In that other ship, there were enemies. True injustices to be fought, honour existed in the hearts of those inmates, it made them strong, powerful. Vital. Each of their deaths had meaning. Each smile, each act of generosity, had meaning.
I share my former warden's enthusiasm [Enthusiasm, blood lust, same difference, right?] to return, if only to restore meaning to my own existence, regardless of the death stolen from me.
It has given me a purpose.
[Filtered away from Sexby]
I do not expect understanding on this matter. I can only say that a soldier forms an attachment to his weapon, it is part of his identity, to hold a weapon, to defend with it, to make it an extension of self. Sentimental perhaps, but nonetheless a strong feeling.
We all know of Sexby, of his crimes, but of the man beyond them. Perhaps this version is a unpolished man, one given to baser instincts but we know him, even if this youth has not known us.
I have thus deemed him suitable to bear a blade. I am no warden, but I am a general. A warrior does not wield a weapon carelessly, particularly in a place unknown to him. Do not remove it. I warn you only as a courtesy.
Each attempt to strip his Klingon honour away from him was repelled and he found honour in resistance. Honour here, I find, is thin on the ground. There are few enemies to fight, beyond those childish to believe that a tantrum against our Exalted Admiral will gain them points or fear is a valued weapon where amnesia is common and ennui more so.
Death has no meaning. And I mean not in the human sense of the meaning of death, yes, I see the oblivion as much as a human or Vulcan or Time Lord would, but it is a mere shutdown, not unlike what an AI might experience should you deactivate it, but that is not meaning.
It is so limited. It pays no respect to the life led before it, reducing it to mere automatic functions to be reset if it 'malfunctions'.
I have never felt the desire to simply vanish before I arrived in this place.
In that other ship, there were enemies. True injustices to be fought, honour existed in the hearts of those inmates, it made them strong, powerful. Vital. Each of their deaths had meaning. Each smile, each act of generosity, had meaning.
I share my former warden's enthusiasm [Enthusiasm, blood lust, same difference, right?] to return, if only to restore meaning to my own existence, regardless of the death stolen from me.
It has given me a purpose.
[Filtered away from Sexby]
I do not expect understanding on this matter. I can only say that a soldier forms an attachment to his weapon, it is part of his identity, to hold a weapon, to defend with it, to make it an extension of self. Sentimental perhaps, but nonetheless a strong feeling.
We all know of Sexby, of his crimes, but of the man beyond them. Perhaps this version is a unpolished man, one given to baser instincts but we know him, even if this youth has not known us.
I have thus deemed him suitable to bear a blade. I am no warden, but I am a general. A warrior does not wield a weapon carelessly, particularly in a place unknown to him. Do not remove it. I warn you only as a courtesy.
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Private
Date: 23/8/11 06:21 pm (UTC)From:Private
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Date: 23/8/11 06:48 pm (UTC)From:is a big hypocritehas been stabbed by Sexby before. So he's not thrilled by the news.][Filter]
Date: 23/8/11 07:50 pm (UTC)From:[Filter]
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Date: 23/8/11 08:08 pm (UTC)From:Private
Date: 23/8/11 08:21 pm (UTC)From:Private
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Date: 23/8/11 07:07 pm (UTC)From:Aside from brief amusement.
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Date: 23/8/11 07:54 pm (UTC)From:you are his first soldier bro, chang. have a measure of nihilism
Date: 23/8/11 07:20 pm (UTC)From:Injustice and brutality will never be destroyed, and honour never truly realised. There is death or dying. Your only corner of glory is ensuring that you do not do the latter.
no subject
Date: 23/8/11 07:58 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 23/8/11 08:00 pm (UTC)From:There is glory alone in fighting with fire in your blood, and fighting as if you were three seconds from Paradise, no matter who for.
The rest is not glory, it is naught but politics.
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Date: 23/8/11 08:41 pm (UTC)From:If he loses his temper, he will eventually learn to reconsider it.
[Private]
I actually understand what you mean. While I can't understand why my other self didn't tear through the those others causing him and others misery, he was actually optimistic in a way that didn't inhibit survival. I had never seen that happen, as the optimist frequently ended up blind and deluded to the troubles of the world.
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Date: 24/8/11 11:18 am (UTC)From:[Private]
Date: 24/8/11 02:53 pm (UTC)From:It's difficult for me to understand.
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Date: 24/8/11 11:38 am (UTC)From:Filter
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