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Post by surfersquid on Feb 20, 2010 1:36:36 GMT -5
"Death?" Menefr shifted uneasily, her ears flicking back and forth as if the word was foreign to her. Death was something she didn't think about often. When it happened, it happened, and that was all there was to it. Obviously, if she was still alive, she had something left to do. Far be it from her to imagine it had anything to do with Cuor, however.
Her golden eyes darted about, unsure what to say. It was a peculiar question, one she hadn't been expecting. Not that she ever really expected many questions to be thrown her way. She was the one who got things done, not the one who answered questions. "...I am not sure," she replied in a low voice, tail swishing anxiously. "When death calls...I suppose I shall find out," she finished, letting out a small grunt of mild amusement, a toothy smile playing at the edges of her lips. She was rather satisfied with her answer. It had been blunt and to the point, and true, of course. Hers was a warrior's life--she was sure death would find her on the battlefield, or in some remote place after combat with a worthy foe, her body left to feed the scavenging birds and later the worms. It was simply a part of the cycle of life, death, and renewal, as far as she was concerned. In life she was dedicated to protecting and assisting others, and in death she would provide nutriment for others. It was the proper way the world should work. She didn't know how things worked in this strange new world, however. She supposed she would have to learn.
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Post by Cy Skywalker on Feb 22, 2010 23:02:51 GMT -5
Lyn hesitated. She was sure that a lot of warriors felt the same way as they charged out into battle with their blood hot. But at the dying moment, the bleeding-out, time-slowing moment...they must think of something more.
She was tentative about offending Menefr, but also was sure to keep her tone confident to as not to s how weakness--or at least she tried. "Are you not concerned about how the gods will find you?"
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Post by Morndakiél on Feb 22, 2010 23:22:15 GMT -5
Maul hadn't been going to say anything, but Menefr nearly spoke for him, and if Lyn was going to argue with it..."I agree with her. Take death as it comes."
So too with time.
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Post by SilverSergyon13 on Feb 22, 2010 23:33:18 GMT -5
Marcus was relieved that the cat woman...Menefr, had finally spoken. He wasn't sure he wanted to attempt wrapping his tongue around the name so he nodded appreciatively at her.
Lynn's question about death was not quite so relieving. He didn't believe in a god or an afterlife. His death had been a dark, cold one. There was nothing waiting for him on the other side, and his "rebirth" was comparable to Hell, though a part of him believed it was well deserved. Had it not been for him, his brother might still be alive...
"Death was cold..." He paused, knowing he had spoken without thought. Then he added, "There are no gods coming for me."
He wasn't sure how that response would be received by the others. They seemed so spiritual. There was a time when belief in an afterlife provided him comfort. Now the only comfort he received in life came from the .38 strapped to his side.
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Post by Cy Skywalker on Feb 26, 2010 16:00:26 GMT -5
Lyn couldn't help but stare at Marcus, her eyes wide, sad. So these were cityfolk, without a way to anchor themselves to the gods....she didn't understand what that was like. Her gods were rock and stone and earth, not something that one could choose to believe in or not.
But Marcus spoke like he knew death..."What spirits do you commune with, that you know death's coldness?" Lyn asked Marcus softly. She did not think this was a conversation he wanted to have right now, especially not in front of the others, who seemed to feel about religion more like a drunken berserker than a sober clan warrior would.
Then she looked around at the others. "We could be going to a dangerous place. Most likely are. Where I come from, everyone in a hunting party knows how to proper rites. If I die, you take the stone dust from my pouch and scatter it."
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Post by surfersquid on Mar 2, 2010 1:48:28 GMT -5
As much as Menefr would not like to admit it to the older woman, Lyn's question amused her slightly. "If they have not the power to find me," she replied simply, resisting the urge to twist her lips into a smirk, "then they are not worthy to be my gods." She had never really given that idea much thought, either. The concept that there were beings on a higher plane of existence than herself had always been somewhat of a given, but beyond that she was no seer or student of spiritual things. Her life had always revolved around more physical matters. Such as combat.
She craned her head curiously to the half-metal male. So death was cold for him, cold as the metal he wore for bone? A curious thing, and her whiskers twitched at the tone of jaded despondency in his voice. Perhaps his world had been cruel to him. She could see that easily enough in his eyes and in the way he carried himself. Perhaps he had deserved it, however.
As Lyn spoke again, Menefr's eyes darted over to her, listening attentively as the woman explained what she would like to have done in the event of her death. She couldn't pretend to understand the meaning behind the ritual, but it was only proper to respect Lyn's culture as far as it did not interfere with her own. Something like this was no problem at all. "Of course," she said with a reverent nod, closing her eyes and bowing her head briefly to let Lyn know that she could be trusted to fulfill the female's cultural needs.
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Post by Morndakiél on Mar 7, 2010 1:26:31 GMT -5
Maul wasn't the sort to listen to things that weren't part of his mission--and now he, sortof, had a mission. As the others talked about religion he stalked away, back down the hall toward the pods, fastening his lightsaber back to his belt. He looked at the pods, at their dry silver surfaces. This was like no technology he knew. Maybe they were all just holograms, projected--
now that was not a useful thought. He crossed the room toward the double doors, yellow light coming in through them in a narrow line. He set his shoulder against a door and started to push. The door, metal-heavy, creaked like it hadn't been opened in years.
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