"So how would it respond to someone not on the path? I'm not familiar with the philosophy of yours myself." Ambrosia asks as she flips the page of her book, holding her hand over it as if she was prepared to write something down.
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"So how would it respond to someone not on the path? I'm not familiar with the philosophy of yours myself." Ambrosia asks as she flips the page of her book, holding her hand over it as if she was prepared to write something down.
"I imagine it might be a bog-standard weapon in their hands," Wenomir ventures. "Or maybe even pass harmlessly through people. It might depend on how they obtain it. Few people are familiar with the Riddle, unless I tell them."
"The local money is in gold. This is Russian Rubles. Problem?" Lyov stares back nonchalantly, then smiles a bit when she offers her hand.
She doesn't finish talking before Ilyona stabs a syringe in her arm and takes the required amount, then squeals and runs out. In the process, she does attempt to inject some monitoring nanomachines into her... for research purposes.
"Wasn't so hard now, was it?" Lyov smirks and sips out of his drink.
"Interesting. So what is this philosophy that empowers this weapon?" Ambrosia asks.
"Hey, you don't have to tell me, I've done crazier things with my blood," Nimaah counters, "I said I have some experience, didn't I?" She isn't sure she exactly said that, but whatever.
Malicebot #8 stands up and swishes his cape. "Depends. Is your your way flashy and dramatized enough that you'll go down in history books and have three movies and a TV series made about you?" he asks.
It's an important question. Some people get movies made after them, and some people don't.
"It's..." Wenomir pauses for a second. Few people are actually interested in the Riddle. "It's a philosophy of martial enlightenment through challenge and strife. There are different paths to the Riddle, like I said, and different answers. But what we all share is denying ourselves that which we didn't earn, and shunning the easy path. One becomes a Seeker of the Riddle when they look beyond simply fighting for whatever cause they may have previously had, and ask themselves why they do it. One way or the other, it means taking the road less travelled, and willingly passing through fire to become hardened."
"Good lord, Sakura!" Adir scolds suddenly, blinking at her. What's she do with the stuff? This was like trying to buy her chocolate milk. "That's it. I'm taking what's left." Adir seizes a good half-bottle of chocolate wine and spins away from his wife, taking the whole rim of the bottle into his mouth for a long swig. Gods was this stuff good. He couldn't blame her, but he really had to keep the dryad safe. Booze could hurt her delicate constitution.
Krystal hesitates for a moment. She hadn't really thought about that before. She just wanted to help people. Buuuut...
With some minor tweaks, I'm pretty sure my way could give you those results. I mean, look at Spider-Man. And the Avengers. And every other hero back home.
"So, I had to get into these ruins, but they were at the bottom of a toxic waste pit, and that would kill me. But there were these things, colicoids, that took it just fine. They were biologically altered, and I figured, 'hey, there's a good solution.' So I stuck myself with colicoid stuff, and it didn't turn me into a giant ravenous monster like it did them." Nimaah takes another swig of her drink. "Been harder to get drunk since, though."
"Not 'fighting for the sake of fighting'," Wenomir says, patiently. "The first step towards the Riddle is asking ourselves why we really chose to become warriors. Is it really for riches, glory, religion or someone we owe fealty to? Or is it because martial conflict resonates with who we are on a fundamental level?" He pauses. "As for the easy path... being here, in the Nexus, and knowing who I used to know, I could have easily decked myself out in magic items. Replaced my arms with cybernetics that are three times as strong. Got myself a sword made out of plasma. But I didn't. Because that wouldn't be me anymore. I'd just become a rack for someone else's work. That was my road less travelled. It means different things for others."
"How brave. And how reckless." Lyov observes, shaking his head, causing it to bob about the way heads shouldn't bob about. "I suppose it wasn't just luck on your side? My sister's scans says your system has undergone some modifications."
Then he tuts once. "No need to hide it, that will make the both of us, though mine is more obvious. But then, you didn't have to die first."
As Wenomir explains Ambrosia locks into one specific wording that he uses. "Martial conflicting resonating within you on a fundamental level? You have to forgive my ignorance but could you clarify what you mean by that then?"
"You know, no one has asked me that in a long time," Wenomir remarks. "And what I mean is... hard to explain, really. A seeker of a Riddle is a warrior, but not just a warrior. Each one of us has a reason why conflict, and resolving it with martial arts, became our way of life. And that reason might not be what we thought it was."
"What? It's not like it's a big deal. Or, I suppose yours kind of is, but mine isn't. It doesn't change who I am or how I act." She shrugs. "But the Colicoid thing was the first one. Wait... I think it was the first one. Might have been a thing or two I don't know about, but I doubt it."
"So you have an inner or outer conflict that you resolve by honing you skills? I've actually heard of similar philosophies but involving the mind rather than the body. So what you're saying is that it's not about the fighting itself but the training to become as good in something as possible. Is that correct?" She inquires.
"Something like that. The goal is perfection and understanding. The means differ, for different people," Wenomir says.
Nimaah blinks. "What? What about?" She looks at Lyov a bit suspiciously.
"Not to mention how they differ between time, place and context." Ambrosia says with a smile. "But perhaps I have asked you too much now. I'm sure you have better things to do than to indulge my curiosity. It is a beast that don't know satisfaction that one." She chuckles. "So go and bring me a sample of one of those creatures and perhaps I can return the favor."
"Why, the other ones, girl. Calm down, if it'll make you feel better, I'll relate some stories of my own, as well." Lyov responds, smirking only slightly. "Here, a show of good faith: I was a gentleman thief acquaintance the good doctor had until a ghastly accident. He could bring parts of me back, and that is what you see before you. Remade and reborn."
He sips out of his drink, to the sound of Ilyona's giggles and the sound of drills. "There, your turn."
"You need to get out more," Nimaah concludes, "There's more to life than science, you know. There's more to science than biological sciences, even." she finishes her drink. "You're hung up on it, too, if not as obviously as your sister. Do you have a hobby? A real hobby? Something you enjoy outside of your work?"
Adir quits his swallowing to stagger up after his wife. He sets the bottle back down roughly without cleaning off his dark-streaked mouth, and then practically flops off his stool. The stag nearly falls down himself before trying to wrap his arms around Sakura. "This s'what happens! When yer drunk," He grins. Yes, clearly she's drunk already. "You gotta sit down. Can't have you hurting yourself."
Lyov doesn't stop smiling, though something changes in his eye. "I think I'm insulted, but I won't hold your insensitivity against you this time. I have seen a lot that life has to offer, but I will not disregard my roots because some uninformed lass at a tavern told me to."
He adjusts his position on the seat. "Hobbies? The lethal sort."
Ilyona returns, her face covered in blood (in parts), her lab coat still somehow spotless. Her timely arrival is one Lyov appreciates, he can walk out after one too many of her percieved slights and she'll still have someone to converse with.
"Another one has been added to the family! Woss is taking cawe of him now." She declares, triumphantly.
"Woss?" Nimaah frowns. "Is that supposed to be Ross-"
Oh. She smiles. "Boss. You haven't escaped yet. You still serve under the man who changed you, don't you? He's clearly smarter than I thought."