(no subject)
Greetings, Camp Fuck You Die. In case we haven’t met before, my name is Nero Angelo. Not Pimp Coat. And most certainly not ‘Vergil’. I admit that there has been a creature walking around bearing a great resemblance to me by that name, but please, disregard it. I am nothing like him. I am better.
For instance, I am far more social and personable than him, as evidenced by this post, and I know when to ask for help on matters I am unable to resolve myself. I have a question that I want you to help me answer. I receive enlightenment, you receive a temporary respite from the almost constant state of boredom you seem to be in.
What is the nature of a mortal?
Let me tell you two stories, so you can properly understand my reasons for asking such an odd question. Imagine a world, one like your own. In one part of this world there lives a woman. Her life is hard and filled with turmoil, and she has to fight for survival against fierce predators and beasts that seek her death. Despite this she finds it in her heart to adopt two lost little pups and protect them from the monsters. She keeps them fed and warm, and never deserts them or laments the difficulties they bring to her life. Despite living each day in fear and paranoia, she thinks she’s content. She’s actually happy. But when the predators, the wolves and hyenas and vultures and what have you finally corners her she decides that her pups, though not fully grown but more than capable of holding their own will not fight with her. Instead she hides them from the beasts, hoping they will go unnoticed. On her own she is no match against the predators, who does to her what predators do. Her pups are now alone in a cold and brutal world, and with no one to guide them they soon turn feral and dangerous. This, humans call ‘love.’
In another part of the world, there lives a man whose life is nothing like the woman’s. He can eat until he is full every day, he is warm, safe and comfortable in a sizeable mansion and has a faithful and beautiful wife and strong and hearty offspring to carry on his legacy. He has all one can desire, and still… he wants more. What, you ask? To become a beast. A savage, vicious beast, like the ones who hunted the woman. To fulfil this goal he sacrifices all that he has gained, wealth, his fellow men, even his family is not safe from his depravity and lust for power. The suffering he caused was… I shall not say beyond what we demons are capable of, but it was not far from it. But he overextends his grasp, and in a moment of weakness he is undone by the daughter he had only seen as ends to a mean. This, humans call ‘evil’.
I am a demon. From the moment I am made I know my own nature and purpose: to destroy and make war upon all those who oppose my maker. The opponents, as it happens, are humans. Ordinary mortal men and women. I believed, call it youthful naivety, that this was because we were of opposite natures. That you humans where the antithesis to demons, and as such it was natural for us to fight. But the more I learn the more I come to doubt this conclusion…because I cannot find any kind of ‘human nature’ at all. As these examples teaches us, humans are capable of a multitude of different and contradictory behaviours. They hurt, heal, kill and create, and the exact same act can be carried out by two different people and be deemed both good and evil. There is clearly no great masterplan behind all this, no great design leading humanity down this path for a purpose. Your entire history, setbacks and advancements alike are all due to chance: if enough people desire a change they gather like flies to a carcass and buzz and crawl over each other until the result has been reached. When it hit me that I, a demon wrought from pure hate and destruction, given form, power and a distinct and clear nature, a masterpiece of design and architecture, had as my fated opponents a disorderly mass of grey, formless, and chaotic insects buzzing around in constant discord… words cannot express how meaningless I felt. How pointless my purpose was… and I can’t have that. I am a creature of certainty, and I cannot stand to doubt myself a second more than I have to.
So in the end, here we stand. Mortals and immortals, brought together by chance. This is the only real chance I will ever have of getting an answer, so answer me now. Tell me, mortal men and women. Tell me what it is that makes you our enemies. Tell me what you are.
((All conversations are considered typed unless you want to hunt Nero down and have Heated and Meaningful and Shonen-Battoru-Style Discussions with him. In which case he's sitting in a conveniently desolate glade in the woods, watching a spider slowly eat a dragonfly. Inspiration in nature, and all that jazz, you know.))
For instance, I am far more social and personable than him, as evidenced by this post, and I know when to ask for help on matters I am unable to resolve myself. I have a question that I want you to help me answer. I receive enlightenment, you receive a temporary respite from the almost constant state of boredom you seem to be in.
What is the nature of a mortal?
Let me tell you two stories, so you can properly understand my reasons for asking such an odd question. Imagine a world, one like your own. In one part of this world there lives a woman. Her life is hard and filled with turmoil, and she has to fight for survival against fierce predators and beasts that seek her death. Despite this she finds it in her heart to adopt two lost little pups and protect them from the monsters. She keeps them fed and warm, and never deserts them or laments the difficulties they bring to her life. Despite living each day in fear and paranoia, she thinks she’s content. She’s actually happy. But when the predators, the wolves and hyenas and vultures and what have you finally corners her she decides that her pups, though not fully grown but more than capable of holding their own will not fight with her. Instead she hides them from the beasts, hoping they will go unnoticed. On her own she is no match against the predators, who does to her what predators do. Her pups are now alone in a cold and brutal world, and with no one to guide them they soon turn feral and dangerous. This, humans call ‘love.’
In another part of the world, there lives a man whose life is nothing like the woman’s. He can eat until he is full every day, he is warm, safe and comfortable in a sizeable mansion and has a faithful and beautiful wife and strong and hearty offspring to carry on his legacy. He has all one can desire, and still… he wants more. What, you ask? To become a beast. A savage, vicious beast, like the ones who hunted the woman. To fulfil this goal he sacrifices all that he has gained, wealth, his fellow men, even his family is not safe from his depravity and lust for power. The suffering he caused was… I shall not say beyond what we demons are capable of, but it was not far from it. But he overextends his grasp, and in a moment of weakness he is undone by the daughter he had only seen as ends to a mean. This, humans call ‘evil’.
I am a demon. From the moment I am made I know my own nature and purpose: to destroy and make war upon all those who oppose my maker. The opponents, as it happens, are humans. Ordinary mortal men and women. I believed, call it youthful naivety, that this was because we were of opposite natures. That you humans where the antithesis to demons, and as such it was natural for us to fight. But the more I learn the more I come to doubt this conclusion…because I cannot find any kind of ‘human nature’ at all. As these examples teaches us, humans are capable of a multitude of different and contradictory behaviours. They hurt, heal, kill and create, and the exact same act can be carried out by two different people and be deemed both good and evil. There is clearly no great masterplan behind all this, no great design leading humanity down this path for a purpose. Your entire history, setbacks and advancements alike are all due to chance: if enough people desire a change they gather like flies to a carcass and buzz and crawl over each other until the result has been reached. When it hit me that I, a demon wrought from pure hate and destruction, given form, power and a distinct and clear nature, a masterpiece of design and architecture, had as my fated opponents a disorderly mass of grey, formless, and chaotic insects buzzing around in constant discord… words cannot express how meaningless I felt. How pointless my purpose was… and I can’t have that. I am a creature of certainty, and I cannot stand to doubt myself a second more than I have to.
So in the end, here we stand. Mortals and immortals, brought together by chance. This is the only real chance I will ever have of getting an answer, so answer me now. Tell me, mortal men and women. Tell me what it is that makes you our enemies. Tell me what you are.
((All conversations are considered typed unless you want to hunt Nero down and have Heated and Meaningful and Shonen-Battoru-Style Discussions with him. In which case he's sitting in a conveniently desolate glade in the woods, watching a spider slowly eat a dragonfly. Inspiration in nature, and all that jazz, you know.))