See, now where back to him sounding more like River in calling this some sort of simulated dream. Can't help wondering if this stranger is something of a science experiment who manage to escape the lab through one means or another how long has he been living on the outside - not so long, Mal would imagine - and how much of it has been spent lost in these woods. Chùsheng, could be the alliance base ain't even far from where every they're standing in which case wǒ niǎo tā de that could be a lot more trouble than he's prepared for.
Course hard to say for certain where they even are, never mind what alliance facilities might be around. Most of that depends on Mal getting a read on this fellow, a tasks that seems potentially impossible considering it look like he's moods shifting all over again, and now he's informing Mal how he's nothing more than a symbol in his head?
Mal snorts at the thought. There's an old Chinese saying about the uselessness of arguing with a madman. "Afraid you're dead wrong about that right there as well." Mal never had bee very reasonable when it comes to taking good advice. "I'm don't symbolize a damn thing."
Use to be a time way back when that you could argue Mal use to have a symbol worth standing for, but that's all ancient history now. He'd been nothing more than a greenhorn and a foolish one at that, the kind of idiot nobody who thought things like ideals and such meant any gorramn thing in this 'verse, that they were something so valuable a man should be willing to risk his life on them. Like he said, it had been way back when, long before he learned all the harsh lessons one has to study up on damn fast if they've got any sort of plan to keep on breathing. Symbols don't really mean anything once you take'em down and try holding onto them when you got nothing else. They're all empty inside, not so much as air to fill them up 'cause at least air keeps a man alive. Symbols are for the naive who don't think they need anything to survive, and the desperate who don't have any chance of it.
These days Mal is old and tired and smart enough to have learned it doesn't pay a man a single thing to stick to some intangible principals. Won't buy you full or keep your belly full or save you from being killed - likely to end up doing just that as a matter of fact. Would rather just get along living simply, not putting too much stock in what's past.
The old bronco at his side apparent decides he's been ignored well long enough and best way to fix such a thing is to go make a damn nuisance of himself. He nickers, lowering his head and knocking his snort against Mal's coat to get his attention. What is he trying to noise at his pockets, see if he had any treats? Mal gives the horse a sideways look telling him to cut out such nonsense and swatting him away. He ain't his owner, and if he's looking for that kind of treatment well than he can go back to searching through the woods for what he wants like the rest of them.
"I'm no- knock it off now or I'll send you back the way I found you," Mal interrupts his ownself with the ideal threat, pointing right at the horse to make himself damn clear he's not about to put up with any begging from the beast. The stallion snorts, more or less getting the message and not seeming all to pleased with it at that. "Not military, either. I'm a captain of a cargo ship. A civilian ship," he adds to make that point perfectly clear. Not that Mal is ashamed of his time in the war, just don't feel the need to go over complicating things by bringing it up when it ain't all that necessary is all. And it's the truth. Hasn't been in the army since the war ended, has no plans on ever going back. Just some kid who volunteered thinking there are some things no man could take from another, but it turns out he'd been plenty wrong and they could be snatched up easy enough. Being such a different person back then no reason it should have any real effect on the present, or at least that's what Mal keeps on insisting to others.
no subject
Course hard to say for certain where they even are, never mind what alliance facilities might be around. Most of that depends on Mal getting a read on this fellow, a tasks that seems potentially impossible considering it look like he's moods shifting all over again, and now he's informing Mal how he's nothing more than a symbol in his head?
Mal snorts at the thought. There's an old Chinese saying about the uselessness of arguing with a madman. "Afraid you're dead wrong about that right there as well." Mal never had bee very reasonable when it comes to taking good advice. "I'm don't symbolize a damn thing."
Use to be a time way back when that you could argue Mal use to have a symbol worth standing for, but that's all ancient history now. He'd been nothing more than a greenhorn and a foolish one at that, the kind of idiot nobody who thought things like ideals and such meant any gorramn thing in this 'verse, that they were something so valuable a man should be willing to risk his life on them. Like he said, it had been way back when, long before he learned all the harsh lessons one has to study up on damn fast if they've got any sort of plan to keep on breathing. Symbols don't really mean anything once you take'em down and try holding onto them when you got nothing else. They're all empty inside, not so much as air to fill them up 'cause at least air keeps a man alive. Symbols are for the naive who don't think they need anything to survive, and the desperate who don't have any chance of it.
These days Mal is old and tired and smart enough to have learned it doesn't pay a man a single thing to stick to some intangible principals. Won't buy you full or keep your belly full or save you from being killed - likely to end up doing just that as a matter of fact. Would rather just get along living simply, not putting too much stock in what's past.
The old bronco at his side apparent decides he's been ignored well long enough and best way to fix such a thing is to go make a damn nuisance of himself. He nickers, lowering his head and knocking his snort against Mal's coat to get his attention. What is he trying to noise at his pockets, see if he had any treats? Mal gives the horse a sideways look telling him to cut out such nonsense and swatting him away. He ain't his owner, and if he's looking for that kind of treatment well than he can go back to searching through the woods for what he wants like the rest of them.
"I'm no- knock it off now or I'll send you back the way I found you," Mal interrupts his ownself with the ideal threat, pointing right at the horse to make himself damn clear he's not about to put up with any begging from the beast. The stallion snorts, more or less getting the message and not seeming all to pleased with it at that. "Not military, either. I'm a captain of a cargo ship. A civilian ship," he adds to make that point perfectly clear. Not that Mal is ashamed of his time in the war, just don't feel the need to go over complicating things by bringing it up when it ain't all that necessary is all. And it's the truth. Hasn't been in the army since the war ended, has no plans on ever going back. Just some kid who volunteered thinking there are some things no man could take from another, but it turns out he'd been plenty wrong and they could be snatched up easy enough. Being such a different person back then no reason it should have any real effect on the present, or at least that's what Mal keeps on insisting to others.