[Ashitaka cannot find it in himself to be off-put or offended by the reaction. If pressed, he might admit that he found it more natural than most he has seen, that most other people had their mindsets of things outside the natural world of humans so diluted by their own experiences or situations that his own curse was something banal in comparison. In his own time it was something he had kept quiet from the vast majority of people, knowing that a mortal curse given by a god or a demon was something normal peasantry would want nothing to do with, having enough problems merely providing for themselves that they did not wish to help shoulder those of someone who had done something so unforgivable as kill a god.
In a way he is foolish. He feels less trepidation now, trusting in two things: that laissez-faire attitude so many others seemed to have towards such matters and also the fact that the mark itself would react towards intentions of violence and goodwill, giving him at least a second to prepare himself if someone's perception of him transmogrified enough to cause them to lash out. Regardless of the mark's (currently foiled, stayed, stopped) intention to claim the life of its host, it did not want to allow anyone else the pleasure; it would not allow Ashitaka to die so easily by other means. It would give him the strength to defend himself, the tenacity and stamina to continue onward for some time even after having been shot through the chest, all because it itself selfishly wanted to tear his soul from his body and would have it no other way.
Laughter is a strange response that the body often has, often coming up with such a thing when nothing else seems to fit; he decides to not be fazed, instead watching cautiously, knowing exactly where his sword and his bow were, how long it would take to get to either or to get Yakul to his feet, swing onto his back, and get moving. He keeps all of this information like a hand of cards close to the chest, and to his merit he lets little away, still but to a trained or keen eye visibly tense, the line of his shoulder like the string of a bow drawn back.
One that is slowly relaxed as the moment itself passes, the fleeting electricity of alarm easing away into nothingness. By the time Ryo speaks up and reaches for the cigarette, Ashitaka finds himself free enough to move as well, pulling the sleeve back over his arm and beginning to fasten the ties that keep it in place.
Ashitaka does not often speculate. It is not in his nature. The words described to him as the quest that might lead to an absolution of his curse did not allot for such a thing. He had merely been asked to see, to travel and to watch and to learn, to piece together the full picture of something in a way that was free of his own preconceptions and biases, unclouded by the hatred that they might bring. Perhaps after that point, he would feel called to make a judgment and to act upon it. But until that point, he does not guess, he does not judge. He merely watches, listens, and attempts to understand.
If it is not something Ryo will give away willingly, he will not force it from him, and he will not draw his own conclusions. He merely thinks to himself that they might share more than he lets on, simply because his reaction was strong enough to allude to such a thing.
"May be." Uncertainty is, in itself, a curse unto itself.
He thinks this, and he moves on.]
I was told once by a man that the world itself is cursed. [He says this as he moves a bit from Yakul's side, to where he'd placed a small pile of gathered firewood. He begins to set up the fire once more, giving it at least an hour or two more to burn.] And a monk upon the road told me the same, that I should not feel so unique even with this mark upon my body. I have thought a great deal about this, about what it could mean, what it could be cursed by. A cynic might say that it is cursed by mankind, for they are the only creatures on its surface that think themselves important enough to change it for their own benefit. [He grows silent for a moment, seeing reflected in the fire the forges kept stoked all hours of day and night by the women of Irontown. They found freedom in the metal they pulled from the earth - freedom from the emperor, from cruel feudal lords and their samurai, from societies of men that would seek to control them. He didn't know the answer. To seek control of the forest for its resources, to kill its gods to assert such a thing, these were evil in the eyes of many, but was it the same when it was done for such a reason?
He continues.] I think it is closer to the truth that the curse is something we all bear: that what is best is often more difficult than easier paths that might lead to outcomes we did not intend. [He's usually not so open and free with such things, but he's very rarely around people more close-lipped than himself. He spares a single glance for Ryo's expression before he finishes what he was doing with the fire, returning to Yakul's side. The elk lifts his head for a moment to nudge him, nose snuffling at his hair.] If that is the case, there is no cure for it. It is just the way of things.
no subject
In a way he is foolish. He feels less trepidation now, trusting in two things: that laissez-faire attitude so many others seemed to have towards such matters and also the fact that the mark itself would react towards intentions of violence and goodwill, giving him at least a second to prepare himself if someone's perception of him transmogrified enough to cause them to lash out. Regardless of the mark's (currently foiled, stayed, stopped) intention to claim the life of its host, it did not want to allow anyone else the pleasure; it would not allow Ashitaka to die so easily by other means. It would give him the strength to defend himself, the tenacity and stamina to continue onward for some time even after having been shot through the chest, all because it itself selfishly wanted to tear his soul from his body and would have it no other way.
Laughter is a strange response that the body often has, often coming up with such a thing when nothing else seems to fit; he decides to not be fazed, instead watching cautiously, knowing exactly where his sword and his bow were, how long it would take to get to either or to get Yakul to his feet, swing onto his back, and get moving. He keeps all of this information like a hand of cards close to the chest, and to his merit he lets little away, still but to a trained or keen eye visibly tense, the line of his shoulder like the string of a bow drawn back.
One that is slowly relaxed as the moment itself passes, the fleeting electricity of alarm easing away into nothingness. By the time Ryo speaks up and reaches for the cigarette, Ashitaka finds himself free enough to move as well, pulling the sleeve back over his arm and beginning to fasten the ties that keep it in place.
Ashitaka does not often speculate. It is not in his nature. The words described to him as the quest that might lead to an absolution of his curse did not allot for such a thing. He had merely been asked to see, to travel and to watch and to learn, to piece together the full picture of something in a way that was free of his own preconceptions and biases, unclouded by the hatred that they might bring. Perhaps after that point, he would feel called to make a judgment and to act upon it. But until that point, he does not guess, he does not judge. He merely watches, listens, and attempts to understand.
If it is not something Ryo will give away willingly, he will not force it from him, and he will not draw his own conclusions. He merely thinks to himself that they might share more than he lets on, simply because his reaction was strong enough to allude to such a thing.
"May be." Uncertainty is, in itself, a curse unto itself.
He thinks this, and he moves on.]
I was told once by a man that the world itself is cursed. [He says this as he moves a bit from Yakul's side, to where he'd placed a small pile of gathered firewood. He begins to set up the fire once more, giving it at least an hour or two more to burn.] And a monk upon the road told me the same, that I should not feel so unique even with this mark upon my body. I have thought a great deal about this, about what it could mean, what it could be cursed by. A cynic might say that it is cursed by mankind, for they are the only creatures on its surface that think themselves important enough to change it for their own benefit. [He grows silent for a moment, seeing reflected in the fire the forges kept stoked all hours of day and night by the women of Irontown. They found freedom in the metal they pulled from the earth - freedom from the emperor, from cruel feudal lords and their samurai, from societies of men that would seek to control them. He didn't know the answer. To seek control of the forest for its resources, to kill its gods to assert such a thing, these were evil in the eyes of many, but was it the same when it was done for such a reason?
He continues.] I think it is closer to the truth that the curse is something we all bear: that what is best is often more difficult than easier paths that might lead to outcomes we did not intend. [He's usually not so open and free with such things, but he's very rarely around people more close-lipped than himself. He spares a single glance for Ryo's expression before he finishes what he was doing with the fire, returning to Yakul's side. The elk lifts his head for a moment to nudge him, nose snuffling at his hair.] If that is the case, there is no cure for it. It is just the way of things.