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Post by dharma on Nov 5, 2006 1:05:37 GMT -5
Dharma fit the last wooden dowel into place, thronging on it with a rubber mallet for an hour until it sunk in deep. Stepping back, he looked over the building. It was a little indulgent to feel pride, but he allowed himself to, smiling a bit.
The jade green wood had cured nicely in the sun. After a few tropical rains it had only improved. There were walls, floors, and a roof. A simple Chinese design with carved curls on each corner, the temple was perfectly square, with open window spaces on three sides. He would weave mats for the windows the next day.
Stepping up the three stairs to the doorway, he opened the doors and tested them, making sure the floor was level so they would swing as they should. They would wear grooves into the floor over time and swing more fluidly but for now, they needed a little coaxing to open. He would create beeswax to lubricate the motion the next day.
Dharma walked into the room and put his hands together, taking a deep breath and looking about him. He might have been thankful that he had been given the opportunity to build something beautiful, a place of peace and a shelter more kind than the steel walls of the Genosha base; but he did not feel thankful. It was just like any other day.
Walking towards the back, he swept his arm slowly in one direction. Stepping aside, his sandalled feet whispered on the floorboards, sand grating subtly beneath them. With even breaths thrumming from his chest, he began his meditative dance as a storm rolled in from the Eastern side of the island.
Sand filtered in from the door, particles of air transforming as the picture on his mind took shape. It rolled across the floor towards the one windowless wall, slowly collecting into a solid mass, each tiny fleck of sand attaching itself to another.
Within an hour the collection had grown to over seven feet high, two feet thick, its arms stretched out in either direction at a span of over eight feet. The buddha with no face had a belly made of change, and empty hollow space where he would place flowers and food from the island, where he would offer symbols of gratitude for the opportunity to affect change amongst those who were change itself.
The buddha Dharma created was wholly unknown. It was a buddha in his own image, a buddha he believed existed for all mutants. The future of existence, unbound.
As the moon began its descent back to the opposite horizon, Dharma's dance stopped. He stood with the wind slowly blowing his long hair like a pennant away from him, his mind quit and soul quieter. He would wait until his body distracted him, or someone needed him. Finally, he felt he had returned to the purpose he had left behind in Xisang.
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Post by deadman on Nov 10, 2006 23:23:55 GMT -5
Dead Man and Angie worked their way through the woods toward the small work area Dharma had been spending his time in, and when they finally arrived (Mr. Bones running in circles around them,) they found a large temple amid a clearing. It was apparently hand-built, and looked to be of impressive architecture and craftsmanship.
Dead Man paused, taking in the structure, and surveying the area.
“An interesting hobby for this one to maintain. Mayhap he's redesigning the island... depressing, as I particularly enjoy the current design. If he's the alchemist you claim him to be, It likely won't be hard for him to do.”
When Dead Man went up the small steps, and poked his head into the door, he found what at first he took to be an animate... as his red eyes adjusted in the change of light, he noticed it was the statue-still form of Dharma. Until that very moment, DM had never seen another man capable of the stillness and tranquility he could reach... and this fact alone immediately put the Asian high on his list of the living that weren't intolerable.
He took a step inside, his fragile frame barely making a noise on the floor.
“Dharma.” His hoarse whisper trickled through the temple.
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Post by Pyro on Nov 12, 2006 10:59:02 GMT -5
Interlude
During this scene, a cellphone message arrives on Angie's phone from Python's number. It reads simply:
LOST LAMBS ALL FOUND. RTNG HOME. C U TMRW. ALL SAFE N WELL. P.
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Post by dharma on Nov 12, 2006 20:30:37 GMT -5
Turning his head, he regarded the dead man carefully at first. He'd never seen anything like him, so obviously a corpse and yet animate. His soul apparently had not left his body and yet was not enlightened enough to allow his form to change to suit its new state.
Looking him over, he nodded once. "You are The Dead Man."
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Post by Nightingale on Nov 13, 2006 2:08:12 GMT -5
"Oh, wow." The young woman hung back to look at the temple as Dead Man walked in, taking a quick stroll around to see it from every side. It was lovely, but she was distracted from her thoughts by the vibration of her cell phone in her pocket.
Quickly, she typed a message back.
K, see you soon. Will let everyone know. NG
Putting the phone back into her pocket, she returned to her slow circuit of Dharma's creation and eventually wandered up inside.
"Hey, Dharma." She felt a bit weird, bringing the Dead Man down to his building, as if she'd done something wrong. But then, quite a lot about Dead Man left her feeling weird, or as though there was something wrong. He was, after all, a walking corpse.
"It's gorgeous." Her smile was almost shy as she gave him the compliment.
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Post by deadman on Nov 13, 2006 22:15:37 GMT -5
Dead Man eyed the other man, every inch as still as he. Only his eyes moved, red orbs gathering in the background, and pulling to the side as if they could see through his skull at Angie. They trained back on Dharma.
“I am The Dead Man, yes.” He replied, and his stillness broke as he cocked his head back and to the left. A fly buzzed around him and landed boldly on his cheek. He made no move to rid of it.
“I seek assistance, if possible. My fetid nature is unbearable among the living, it would seem. I have concocted a few possible alternatives to my current state of physical being... but I hear that you are something of an alchemist. Were I able to simply transform into something that does not burden the olfactory senses of the Brotherhood, it would... benefit everyone.”
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Post by dharma on Nov 15, 2006 16:04:04 GMT -5
Dharma turned, looking at them both. He nodded to Angie's complement, wanting to tell her more about the structure he'd built but knowing it was best saved for another time. Perhaps he'd be able to tempt her back to meditation by doing so.
Looking at the dead man, he frowned very slightly.
"I am unsure you will have your soul if I were to change your form. Unless it is that you no longer -have- a soul."
Looking him over, he frowned even deeper. "What is it you are made of?" He spoke to him as if he were not a person, but rather, some figment of his imagination.
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Post by deadman on Nov 15, 2006 22:00:47 GMT -5
Dead Man regarded the other steadily. “I have a soul, yes... at least the majority of one. A fraction of my spirit has been locked away within Jane. I am flesh animated, though my body is just as much a corpse as Mr. Bones here.”
At the mention of his name (or perhaps at mental command,) Mr. Bones sped into the temple, hopping up and down and running around in small circles. He was noiseless, but it was obvious he still thought he was yipping.
“My flesh is dead. A month dead, actually. Though I am the King of the Dead, so death has no dominion over me... offensive smell does, however.” His face twisted into what could possibly be conceived as a smile – maybe, somewhere – over his own joke.
“I am considering removing much of this body, and replacing it with filling. My essence will animate it as long as some of it's original parts remain... the bones, primarily, and my brain.”
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Post by Nightingale on Nov 16, 2006 2:38:53 GMT -5
Her abilities gave her a unique view of Dead Man's situation, but Angie waited until the walking corpse had finished his summary of the situation before offering her insight. While he was speaking, she whistled softly, trying to get Mr. Bones to come back to her and leave Dharma's building alone - all of his jumping around was bound to leave scratches on the floor, which would be a real shame. But maybe Dharma had that view of beauty through use - so long as the building was fulfilling its purpose, would a few little scratches matter?
Eventually, she managed to get the little skeletal dog to come and lie at her feet, where she idly scratched at his ribcage with the toe of her shoe.
My life is so weird. She did like the little dog, but every time she did something like that she remembered that he was dead and it reminded her of just what a world full of mutants could be like.
"From what I can tell, Dead Man's soul isn't actually in his body anymore. When I touch him, there's no connection made." Dharma knew a bit about how Angie's mutation worked, or at least as much as the young Australian had been able to figure out. For a fraction of a second, she made a face, her expression clearly saying, 'Not that I touch him if I can avoid it.' There was just something so wrong about him. His dead body, his broken soul, the fact that it didn't reside within his flesh like everyone else's...
"I was thinking mummification, like what the Egyptians did? I don't know, I'll do whatever I can to help, but..." But she wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of performing surgery on a corpse, if there was any way of avoiding it.
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Post by dharma on Nov 16, 2006 8:56:49 GMT -5
No understanding lit on Dharma's face- a look of deep contemplation etching his features- until Dead Man called himself King of The Dead, and as if something had suddenly fallen into place, Dharma nodded in complete recognition of the situation.
"Of course. Now tell me what it is about your body you wish to retain. Your skin? Your skeleton?" The rest of it didn't seem creepy to him in the slightest- something that shouldn't really surprise anyone who knew what he was about- but he was particularly pleased with Angie's even, almost confident nature. She had a calling, it seemed. And when that calling was in use, she found her purpose. Without it, she floundered.
Dharma understood that completely.
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Post by deadman on Nov 17, 2006 19:42:47 GMT -5
Dead Man nodded graciously to Angie, clearly as close to thankful as he could come. Sure, he had no real connection with life. He didn’t view the living the same way others did. Hell, he was also, at his very core, an evil creature. He delighted in the suffering of others, and in his time he had visited no few funerals and animated the deceased simply to sew chaos and torment among the living…
But this didn’t mean he had no gratitude. He knew when people were helping him, and he repaid their help in kind. If someone went out of their way to help him, and he saw it as beneficial and worthwhile, they got something of a ‘get out of jail free’ card from him. He’d raise them when they died, and of course bond them forever (or until they were destroyed or he grew bored with them) as his thrall, but he wouldn’t kill them… and that, to Dead Man, was a kingly gift.
Rolling his crimson eyes back to Dharma, he spoke in his raspy voice once more. “My brain needs to remain unchanged… my eyes also. I still need a voicebox, though I need no lungs. I would like to look the same, for I have grown used to this visage… it is comfortable. So I suppose I would like my skin unaltered. My bones I need, though if they were plated or changed into something metallic – it would be a bonus. The rest of my insides are useless. I was considering replacing them with leather… leather all the way through. It would add longevity to the body.”
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Post by Nightingale on Nov 18, 2006 20:27:58 GMT -5
"I guess the most important thing to alter then is your skull. You know, for protection."
She was not going to make an incision at his hairline and peel his face back so that they could get at the bones. Having Dead Man's red eyes peering up out of a skull at you...
Oh, god.
He'd probably keep talking.
Oh, god!
Swallowing, she continued, "Were you wanting to change the organs into leather or just take them out and stuff the cavity full of it? There's gaps, the body isn't packed solid, so you couldn't just transform everything... But you'd know that." Dead Man would certainly know about his own body, about how there was space in the body cavities for organs to expand, about all the blood and other liquid that would have already started to pool in his lower extremities. Not to mention that his lungs were composed of empty air sacs, so they'd probably have great gaps around them now that he wasn't breathing with them.
"I still think that sawdust would be a good option, maybe with some kind of deoderant mixed in... The mummies the egyptians made lasted for thousands of years, after all, and the only reason you even need anything inside is for the shape." She decided to concentrate on the image that made her want to giggle - the idea of stuffing Dead Man full of potpourri - rather than the one that made her want to grimace - the idea of him running around for thousands of years.
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Post by deadman on Nov 19, 2006 12:08:41 GMT -5
Dead Man nodded slowly at her, his head cocked awkwardly to one side as he looked her in the eyes. "The leather is to assist my limbs in not being cut off, or my torso in not being ripped apart. My skull, yes, is the most important - though too much damage to my body itself would impair me."
He glanced back to Dharma, then back again to Angie.
"If I could transform what's there to solid leather, or something tougher, yet that would fit within my skin, I could fill the remaining gaps with sawdust that is... fragranced? Though without my organs, I would believe I should not smell so dead."
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Post by dharma on Nov 19, 2006 13:27:11 GMT -5
"Your skin will leatherize in time, if you keep it dry and in the elements." Dharma walked around him, considering corpses he had seen in his time in the high peaks of Tibet. "Moving as you do will keep it supple unless you are careless, and then it will tear. You may not last forever, if you are not careful with yourself." He nodded. A walking corpse with practical issues. It was definitely nothing he'd dealt with before.
"I can only change natural substance to natural substance. Leather is an altered substance, so I would not be able to produce that. Are you concerned about weight? I could fill you with sand, which would approximate the same weight, but I am unsure if the valves in your throat or anus would prevent it from spilling out."
He frowned thoughtfully. "Sawdust would have the same problem but would be absorbent. The mummies in Egypt incorporated camphor as well, which is an aromatic and astringent material which I -can- produce if you like."
Thinking to himself, he looked out the window.
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Post by deadman on Nov 19, 2006 13:46:25 GMT -5
Natural substance into natural substance...
“I'm not worried about weight. In fact, were I lighter It could be advantageous as i could move further and faster with as much effort... however, would it be possible to turn my bones into iron, perhaps? Unless you can think of some thicker, stronger natural substance?”
His face twisted into a smile again.
“Of course, that's a practical change favored by myself. The scent is the issue for the Brotherhood. I suppose doing it as the Egyptians did would be the best solution for now. You could simply transform my organs and muscles into the part sawdust, part camphor. I don't need my anus anymore, I'm sure I can block it somehow. My throat as well. In fact, we could cut me open after you alter the insides, and plug the holes internally with wood? Maybe some other material. The iron bones would make me more difficult to destroy and damage, the skin will leather itself – and I suppose I could keep sewing it up should it get damaged... though really, I should be much more decomposed than I currently am. I believe something in my power has either slowed or stopped the process. I may not leather at all, but that is fine. We can stuff the remaining space in my body with more of the mixture manually...”
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Post by dharma on Nov 19, 2006 23:45:00 GMT -5
Dharma did more thinking. "They plugged the anus with cork or cotton, I believe. To hold the fluids in."
Looking briefly to Angie, who he figured might be sick by now, he then looked back to the Dead Man.
"Iron may make you heavier than you like. But if I were to solidify your bones, like fossils... you would be similar to petrified wood or stone. A more natural process, I think you'd be happier with the weight of yourself over time."
He frowned. "This will take concentration. If you are ready, I can do this for you now."
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Post by Nightingale on Nov 20, 2006 2:07:39 GMT -5
All this talk about Dead Man's anus was actually making her want to giggle. Well, that or throw up, and she much preferred the giggling option. So it was with cheeks twitching that she said, "If we're going to be cutting you open, I might as well just sew it up like they do after a colectomy - you know, when people have colon cancer."
Oh, god, how did life get like this?
"I don't think that your throat will be a problem, though, unless you're planning on walking on your hands a lot. But I can sew the bottom of that up, too, so long as you can still use your vocal chords." Well, he'd have thought about that already wouldn't he? If he wanted to get rid of his lungs, he'd know that he could still use them.
"But yeah, you let me know if you need me, otherwise I'll leave you to it...?" Dharma didn't seem to need her for this, and she had a feeling that she'd just distract them if she stuck around.
"I'll take Mr. Bones with me and get out of your hair."
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Post by deadman on Nov 21, 2006 0:24:08 GMT -5
Dead Man nodded gratefully (twice now, in one conversation) to Angie, and Mr. Bones immediately jumped up into her arms as if commanded to do so.
“Thank you, Angela. I will approach you shortly. If I’m not mistaken, I will bring the mixture soon into the headquarters to be packed within the empty places in my body. Dharma will transmute my internals into the stuff that he can, but I will definitely not be as full as my skin will allow. I will find you when we are done here.”
He nodded to her, and then turned back to the Asian.
“And thank you, Dharma.” He said in his hoarse whisper. “I think a mixture of our ideas will work. If you could encase my brain in iron, protecting it as much as possible, the rest of my bones will work admirably in a fossilized state. Afterwards, if you could provide me with the a supply of the mixture for Angela to pack into my body, that would be most agreeable.”
He smiled once more. “You have been most generous.”
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Post by Nightingale on Nov 21, 2006 3:23:49 GMT -5
A peal of surprised laughter escaped her as Mr. Bones jumped into her arms, and Angie couldn't help but keep a beaming smile on her face as she nodded to Dead Man's words. Even though he'd called her Angela, and the only person who'd ever done that before with any regularity was her mother. It wasn't a name that she generally took to particularly well, but as Mr. Bones rubbed his skull up against her jaw, his tail wagging like mad, Angie hardly even noticed it.
Waving to Dharma, still wearing that beaming smile, the young Australian started wandering back up toward the base, doing her best to hold onto the wriggling zombie dog and actually giggling as he kept trying to lick her face.
[Exit Angie]
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