08-23-2016, 11:09 AM
They seemed to descend into an underworld labyrinth and somehow, Ascendancy seemed more relaxed, at home even. Especially once they'd entered his apartments. They were spacious but not ostentatious. Functional, though not spartan. Simple, and yet not ascetic.
And Ascendancy seemed to transform as he sat down. Perhaps it was the image of seeing him relaxing, sinking into a leather couch, such a contrast to the rigid calculated man that he seemed to always project. The fireplace lit the room and the lighted shadows seemed to highlight the tiredness in the man's eyes. Threads of air drew a water bottle to him and he drank as if thirsty.
It was curious. Almost as if the Ascendancy was shedding the crown, the mantle for just a moment, allowing himself to be seen as human, Nikolai Brandon. An intensely private thing to do. And Marcus felt....curiosity. He knew the man's biography backwards and forwards, had studied him from afar. And even though they had interacted on numerous occasions, now, there was always that sense of facade, this was not a 'man', this was the position, the power, the Ascendancy.
And yet beneath it all, he was human. A man bearing the weight of this world on his shoulders. And Marcus understood. For his entire life recently was only that of projection, of goals and perception. Except for those few moments with Elouera or at the Almaz where he had allowed himself his humanity, dark or light- certainly not with Spectra, no. That had been a pure game too. Fun, but definitely a contest.- except for those moments, his life was lived in a shell. It was worth it, of course. Solitary, but then life was ultimately solitary. That was a secret few were strong enough to accept without question.
He wondered, though, even as he sat down after taking a drink. The chair was also comfortable and he allowed himself to luxuriate in it. There was a secret here he wished to learn. Not information. Not facts. He wondered how to balance the two. The outward and inward. He suspected he'd learn from the Ascendancy.
He launched into an explanation of the Atharim and truthfully, Marcus didn't know what to think or how to react. He was in a curious mood. The words were filed away. An ancient organization, predating recorded history? That bore searching out. Their plan now, to kill the leader and remake the organization, take control of it. He felt a thrill of anticipation at that. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to ask about them. He was not afraid. He would make it the focus of his studies soon. And when he focused, there was very little he missed.
But for now..."If I may ask a question. Was it worth it? To create an empire such as this, to become a god to these people, to be so far removed from the humanity you rule over. When you are down here in your home and look back on your life, alone with your thoughts, how does it feel?"
It was an audacious question. It seemed at once too personal and intimate. It seemed to fly in the face of everything he personally believed, wanted to believe. It was about order, about power. Always. Things like feelings and attachments did not really exist. They were the stories people told themselves to deal with the harsh realities of life. And yet..."Pardon me. I am merely curious. The great men of history, they were more than men. But they were also men. It fascinates me, that dichotomy."
And Ascendancy seemed to transform as he sat down. Perhaps it was the image of seeing him relaxing, sinking into a leather couch, such a contrast to the rigid calculated man that he seemed to always project. The fireplace lit the room and the lighted shadows seemed to highlight the tiredness in the man's eyes. Threads of air drew a water bottle to him and he drank as if thirsty.
It was curious. Almost as if the Ascendancy was shedding the crown, the mantle for just a moment, allowing himself to be seen as human, Nikolai Brandon. An intensely private thing to do. And Marcus felt....curiosity. He knew the man's biography backwards and forwards, had studied him from afar. And even though they had interacted on numerous occasions, now, there was always that sense of facade, this was not a 'man', this was the position, the power, the Ascendancy.
And yet beneath it all, he was human. A man bearing the weight of this world on his shoulders. And Marcus understood. For his entire life recently was only that of projection, of goals and perception. Except for those few moments with Elouera or at the Almaz where he had allowed himself his humanity, dark or light- certainly not with Spectra, no. That had been a pure game too. Fun, but definitely a contest.- except for those moments, his life was lived in a shell. It was worth it, of course. Solitary, but then life was ultimately solitary. That was a secret few were strong enough to accept without question.
He wondered, though, even as he sat down after taking a drink. The chair was also comfortable and he allowed himself to luxuriate in it. There was a secret here he wished to learn. Not information. Not facts. He wondered how to balance the two. The outward and inward. He suspected he'd learn from the Ascendancy.
He launched into an explanation of the Atharim and truthfully, Marcus didn't know what to think or how to react. He was in a curious mood. The words were filed away. An ancient organization, predating recorded history? That bore searching out. Their plan now, to kill the leader and remake the organization, take control of it. He felt a thrill of anticipation at that. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to ask about them. He was not afraid. He would make it the focus of his studies soon. And when he focused, there was very little he missed.
But for now..."If I may ask a question. Was it worth it? To create an empire such as this, to become a god to these people, to be so far removed from the humanity you rule over. When you are down here in your home and look back on your life, alone with your thoughts, how does it feel?"
It was an audacious question. It seemed at once too personal and intimate. It seemed to fly in the face of everything he personally believed, wanted to believe. It was about order, about power. Always. Things like feelings and attachments did not really exist. They were the stories people told themselves to deal with the harsh realities of life. And yet..."Pardon me. I am merely curious. The great men of history, they were more than men. But they were also men. It fascinates me, that dichotomy."