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sewa wrote a philosophy paper, and borrowed a scene from M3 to stage it around. It contained these lines:
She glanced to Abernathy to see his reaction, but if there was one, it was heavily guarded between several masks. The mask of a man escaping social repression, of a former Black Ops trainee, of a junior diplomat, and now the Leader of the worlds police force. Resonance mused. Perhaps she would have to peel more layers back through this route instead.
It got me to thinking.
Like any good Balseraph, the Director wears several masks...
Masks he won't even admit to himself exist, and he often wears more than one at once. Some of them are shattered in places and wanting for mending, others are simple reflections of the world around him, but you may be hard put to point out which is which, what with the way he layers them.
Principle among his most-favored masks are these:
The Director: Cold, almost casually cruel, incorruptible, and 'psuedo-erudite', the Director is the newest--and strongest--of Abernathy's masks, the jet-black, soulless one that covers all the rest. In his speech, there's a veneer of formality, an almost sing-song play with the weaselwords of the professional bureaucrat, both to confuse--and to provide 'needed' polish. In his bearing, a little more tension, a little more ice in those pink eyes. The Director plays his cards close to his chest, manipulates his underlings as casually as breathing, and never--ever--backs down. He demands perfection of himself, and perfection of his troops--and, though patient, will not take time to explain why he believes as he does. That falls to the Diplomat. As the newest mask, though, he's still a little unfinished, which offers the opportunity to the layers beneath to creep through when Abernathy is possessed of strong emotion.
The Diplomat: Here is the Director's polish and class, but turned on its head--a satire of itself. The Diplomat is sardonic and bitter, and makes very little pretense about it. He hates his organization, hates what it requires of him, and plays by the rules anyway, because it's the only way he sees to fight his way out of the situation. And fight he will--or turn tail and flee, when things get too hot. He has the Director's absolutism, but he's willing to bend it, and save his own skin to live to fight another day. At the same time, he also has the Director's skill with words and manipulation, but uses it more subtly, to win allies to his side--or shove away those he finds 'useless'. Curiously, the weight of the world--and Interpol's individual soldiers--rests on the Diplomat's shoulders. While the Director, secure in icy absolutism, is free to give orders irrespective of the lives lost, the Diplomat is the one watching, worried, as those same orders are misinterpreted. He is the one who pitches a snarling fit when an Interpol officer acts out of line and besmirches the name of the organization; he is the one who throws things at the television when Wily's propaganda appears. Even with a two-year headstart on the Director, he's slowly getting subsumed into the dominant mask, the unapologetically right worldview the Director holds dragging him down.
The Chameleon: Obsequious, unseen, the Chameleon is a glittering mask that would have you believe he isn't actually there. He's more of a cloak than a mask--an absolute, colorful shield between Abernathy and the rest of the world. The Chameleon is the most fragmented of the masks, made up of the shifting paraphernalia of Abernathy's several discarded 'past lives'; little snippets of unfinished stories and colors from unfinished paintings. If you ever see him cheerily discussing military policy with Wildrider, or getting into a half-mocking argument with Oannes, you're seeing the Chameleon at work. Whatever is required--he becomes. Standing nearly at the balance point of all the masks, the Chameleon might almost be the creator of all of them.
The Crusader: Passion. Pure, unadulterated passion defines the Crusader. Whether it's an instant's fury at a man's casual disdain for the lives of his family, or the slow-burning rage he holds for the Mavericks, the Crusader knows 'em all, and embraces them. He is a mask painted in vivid colors, he is the fire at the core of Abernathy's axiom, 'We live, we burn, we die.' When the Diplomat lashes out in anger, it's the Crusader fueling that ire. But the Crusader is not merely the fire that burns, and his passion isn't all the passion of anger; he is the same honorable creature that Abernathy invokes in calling Bridgit 'Lady Cascio' and Cossack 'dear doctor'. Indomitable and often repressed, the Crusader is the id to the Diplomat's ego and the Director's superego.
The Fool: A moment's jest here, another's self-denigration there, the Fool is--likecanemex's Feste--a wicked creature, always mocking at the world around him in the vague hope he might bring it a measure of enlightenment. While the Crusader is the passion and the drive, the Fool is the one who paints the artistic impulses onto that drive--the one who drove Abernathy to kneel and kiss Gabriel for her great service to him and to Interpol, and the one who flirts shamelessly with Xiang when the opportunity arises. Keep them guessing, is the Fool's motto. But as a veneer of paint, a minor twist of personality, he is almost not a mask at all.
The Whore: Anything you can ask of the Whore, he will give you, complicit and uncomplaining, because servitude is strength. He has sold himself to the highest bidder since a very young age, making use of the protection and means provided to preserve his own life. With Abernathy maturing slightly, the Whore-as-a-mask is one he uses far less, and the Whore's desires have become milder over time. Now all he craves is simple approval--more than a pat on the head, but at least acknowledgement that the rest of his patchwork personas are making the world a little better. Selfish? Perhaps. Insecure? Absolutely. But that insecurity is mitigated, as long as Abernathy remains attractive--as long as he can continue to provide a useful service, he will not be thrown away.
The Optimist: 'A cynic is merely a burned optimist,' or so the story goes. Is it really any surprise that at the heart of it all, his innermost mask, Abernathy--with his high ideals and frustration with a world that seems unwilling to understand--would be an optimist? Hope for the best, mutters this mask, and plan for the worst, reply all the rest.
The Maskmaker--Unmasked:
Is it really any surprise that Abernathy should define his life in terms of masks? Perhaps, perhaps not. Keep in mind that his has been a singularly shattered life, lacking the years of stability that form a firm identity in most humans.
At eight, his parents both died, and Life told him, 'you aren't a normal child anymore--you're an orphan, with only your older brother to rely on'; so he did. At fourteen, Mikhail went missing in action, and Adrian learned that, 'you're not even a child any longer; you're another denizen of the streets. You earn your way by doing what you must--whoring, stealing, killing.' At eighteen, he finally had a chance to choose his own way, to pick the life of a soldier and rise above what had happened on the streets. At twenty, the illusion of free choice was wrenched away, along with any illusions he had of immortality, when he was literally ressurrected through cybernetics to be a diplomat with heavy black ops indoctrination. At twenty-two, his own self-made goals were torn from him, and he found himself in the very unusual position of an iconoclast at the head of the organization.
What was he to do? All he had from life was several half-finished pieces of a past. His history is as much a patchwork as he is, fragments of a soldier's training and a thief's attitude and a diplomat's manners all lying on the floor. What do you do with fragments? Some people make quilts; and he--made masks.
And only time will tell if they're more than merely a coping mechanism.
facelessmuse
sewa wrote a philosophy paper, and borrowed a scene from M3 to stage it around. It contained these lines:She glanced to Abernathy to see his reaction, but if there was one, it was heavily guarded between several masks. The mask of a man escaping social repression, of a former Black Ops trainee, of a junior diplomat, and now the Leader of the worlds police force. Resonance mused. Perhaps she would have to peel more layers back through this route instead.
It got me to thinking.
Like any good Balseraph, the Director wears several masks...
Masks he won't even admit to himself exist, and he often wears more than one at once. Some of them are shattered in places and wanting for mending, others are simple reflections of the world around him, but you may be hard put to point out which is which, what with the way he layers them.
Principle among his most-favored masks are these:
The Director: Cold, almost casually cruel, incorruptible, and 'psuedo-erudite', the Director is the newest--and strongest--of Abernathy's masks, the jet-black, soulless one that covers all the rest. In his speech, there's a veneer of formality, an almost sing-song play with the weaselwords of the professional bureaucrat, both to confuse--and to provide 'needed' polish. In his bearing, a little more tension, a little more ice in those pink eyes. The Director plays his cards close to his chest, manipulates his underlings as casually as breathing, and never--ever--backs down. He demands perfection of himself, and perfection of his troops--and, though patient, will not take time to explain why he believes as he does. That falls to the Diplomat. As the newest mask, though, he's still a little unfinished, which offers the opportunity to the layers beneath to creep through when Abernathy is possessed of strong emotion.
The Diplomat: Here is the Director's polish and class, but turned on its head--a satire of itself. The Diplomat is sardonic and bitter, and makes very little pretense about it. He hates his organization, hates what it requires of him, and plays by the rules anyway, because it's the only way he sees to fight his way out of the situation. And fight he will--or turn tail and flee, when things get too hot. He has the Director's absolutism, but he's willing to bend it, and save his own skin to live to fight another day. At the same time, he also has the Director's skill with words and manipulation, but uses it more subtly, to win allies to his side--or shove away those he finds 'useless'. Curiously, the weight of the world--and Interpol's individual soldiers--rests on the Diplomat's shoulders. While the Director, secure in icy absolutism, is free to give orders irrespective of the lives lost, the Diplomat is the one watching, worried, as those same orders are misinterpreted. He is the one who pitches a snarling fit when an Interpol officer acts out of line and besmirches the name of the organization; he is the one who throws things at the television when Wily's propaganda appears. Even with a two-year headstart on the Director, he's slowly getting subsumed into the dominant mask, the unapologetically right worldview the Director holds dragging him down.
The Chameleon: Obsequious, unseen, the Chameleon is a glittering mask that would have you believe he isn't actually there. He's more of a cloak than a mask--an absolute, colorful shield between Abernathy and the rest of the world. The Chameleon is the most fragmented of the masks, made up of the shifting paraphernalia of Abernathy's several discarded 'past lives'; little snippets of unfinished stories and colors from unfinished paintings. If you ever see him cheerily discussing military policy with Wildrider, or getting into a half-mocking argument with Oannes, you're seeing the Chameleon at work. Whatever is required--he becomes. Standing nearly at the balance point of all the masks, the Chameleon might almost be the creator of all of them.
The Crusader: Passion. Pure, unadulterated passion defines the Crusader. Whether it's an instant's fury at a man's casual disdain for the lives of his family, or the slow-burning rage he holds for the Mavericks, the Crusader knows 'em all, and embraces them. He is a mask painted in vivid colors, he is the fire at the core of Abernathy's axiom, 'We live, we burn, we die.' When the Diplomat lashes out in anger, it's the Crusader fueling that ire. But the Crusader is not merely the fire that burns, and his passion isn't all the passion of anger; he is the same honorable creature that Abernathy invokes in calling Bridgit 'Lady Cascio' and Cossack 'dear doctor'. Indomitable and often repressed, the Crusader is the id to the Diplomat's ego and the Director's superego.
The Fool: A moment's jest here, another's self-denigration there, the Fool is--like
canemex's Feste--a wicked creature, always mocking at the world around him in the vague hope he might bring it a measure of enlightenment. While the Crusader is the passion and the drive, the Fool is the one who paints the artistic impulses onto that drive--the one who drove Abernathy to kneel and kiss Gabriel for her great service to him and to Interpol, and the one who flirts shamelessly with Xiang when the opportunity arises. Keep them guessing, is the Fool's motto. But as a veneer of paint, a minor twist of personality, he is almost not a mask at all.The Whore: Anything you can ask of the Whore, he will give you, complicit and uncomplaining, because servitude is strength. He has sold himself to the highest bidder since a very young age, making use of the protection and means provided to preserve his own life. With Abernathy maturing slightly, the Whore-as-a-mask is one he uses far less, and the Whore's desires have become milder over time. Now all he craves is simple approval--more than a pat on the head, but at least acknowledgement that the rest of his patchwork personas are making the world a little better. Selfish? Perhaps. Insecure? Absolutely. But that insecurity is mitigated, as long as Abernathy remains attractive--as long as he can continue to provide a useful service, he will not be thrown away.
The Optimist: 'A cynic is merely a burned optimist,' or so the story goes. Is it really any surprise that at the heart of it all, his innermost mask, Abernathy--with his high ideals and frustration with a world that seems unwilling to understand--would be an optimist? Hope for the best, mutters this mask, and plan for the worst, reply all the rest.
The Maskmaker--Unmasked:
Is it really any surprise that Abernathy should define his life in terms of masks? Perhaps, perhaps not. Keep in mind that his has been a singularly shattered life, lacking the years of stability that form a firm identity in most humans.
At eight, his parents both died, and Life told him, 'you aren't a normal child anymore--you're an orphan, with only your older brother to rely on'; so he did. At fourteen, Mikhail went missing in action, and Adrian learned that, 'you're not even a child any longer; you're another denizen of the streets. You earn your way by doing what you must--whoring, stealing, killing.' At eighteen, he finally had a chance to choose his own way, to pick the life of a soldier and rise above what had happened on the streets. At twenty, the illusion of free choice was wrenched away, along with any illusions he had of immortality, when he was literally ressurrected through cybernetics to be a diplomat with heavy black ops indoctrination. At twenty-two, his own self-made goals were torn from him, and he found himself in the very unusual position of an iconoclast at the head of the organization.
What was he to do? All he had from life was several half-finished pieces of a past. His history is as much a patchwork as he is, fragments of a soldier's training and a thief's attitude and a diplomat's manners all lying on the floor. What do you do with fragments? Some people make quilts; and he--made masks.
And only time will tell if they're more than merely a coping mechanism.
facelessmuse
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!!!
Date: 2003-04-27 02:53 am (UTC)Well, at least it isn't rambly like it. 15 page papers are not fun things to write in one day I say! Not fun!
*sniff*
Now in regards to the masks...
Director - I've seen this, mostly in the Alpha, Rigger, Abernathy scene. I literally thought 'OMG, he's as stubborn as a rock!'
Diplomat - I lurved Diplomat Abernathy, and Alpha notices the Director taking control sometimes and that's why she's trying to steal you for picnics and slow the evil Director mask down!
Chameleon - A Sting Chameleon Mask?
Crusader - Can't think of anything to say... Dear Doctor. hehehehe.
Fool - So Gabriel is closer, kisswise, than Bridgit on the list of the masks? Hawhawhawhaw!
Whore - Yeah, I don't see this one much, actually, I think. But that's what you said.
Optimist - Yeah, I think this is why Abernathy isn't an evil overlord himself :D
I'm surprised that ABernathy was a thief, really. That's pretty surprising, I learn new things about Abernathy each time I read something about him, that's why I keep trying to get rp with you and read your LJs a lot I guess :D, good luck with him, he's a great character And I'm glad you stayed with him through thick and thin.
Re: !!!
Date: 2003-04-27 03:07 am (UTC)And no, those suck. X) That's why I avoid them as best I can. Arrr.
In reply:
Director: ...Stubborn as a rock? XDDD So perfect. Yes, he IS. That's the Director in a nutshell.
Diplomat: Mwah. We need to get that scene on at some point. Come visit him in the hospital, too! Bring, uhm, love. Or something. He'll need love on waking up. 'AGH MISSED WHOLE WEEK BRAIN EXPLODING'
Chameleon: Yes. I mean, no. That would be ugly, and the Whore won't let him be ugly. ;)
Crusader: He does/did call Cossack that. He needs to do it more, late at night, when the Director's hold is loosened.
Fool: Pweffah. That's only because Abby hasn't found a good time to kiss Bri. And, when he gets around to hearing about her latest outburst...no, bad brain. x_X That's not a kiss, that's beyond the bounds of naughty...stupid Whore. Plus, Bri is the Crusader's territory, because she's a 'kindred spirit'.
Whore: Mhm. The Whore's not really noticeable. Not supposed to be. Doesn't even need to be now, because who's he going to ingratiate himself with? The only people he needs approval from...we-ell. He's too scared of asking 'em to do anything about it, so the Whore remains mute. Well, not quite. He'll ask Bridgit one of these days about what she thinks of him, in her honest, unvarnished opinion, complete with profanity. ...And do the same for Cossack, too. Heh. (I'll just change the Whore to 'Emotional Masochist' and call myself quit of it.)
Optimist: Darn straight. Break the Optimist, tho, and he'll be headed down the path of PSYCHOTIC DICTATOR ABERNATHY, BURNINATING THE COUNTRYSIDE!!! BURNINATING THE PEASANTS!! BURNINATING THE--*shot*
Thief, and, well, the Whore mask isn't just a convenient allusion. :} His history is complex and mostly unhappy. I'll write it up in full one of these days, so people know where he gets that weird aversion to chocolate from...and all that other stuff. Yeah, that's important, too.
--Murky
<3
Date: 2003-04-27 01:15 pm (UTC)I love stuff like this. Very nice, very nice. I HAVE to RP with you more now, dagnabbit, you're reeling me in enough as-is.
Reminds me of Legion, but that's an entirely different (and unfinished) topic.
I got mentioned! X) Eeee, thank you.
Kind of an odd but still very true view of the Fool; I emphasize more of the liminal (This is my new word. I love it very much. :>) aspect. Caught between two stages, the archetypal fool of the tarot. Not belonging to either, but stuck somewhere in the middle.
And the second part is the Observer. Because of that peculiar quality of liminality, the Fool is 'outside'. One of the necessary qualities for his fooling. To quote something I remember Feste (mine, not Shakespeare's, though) saying: 'All the world's a stage, and I sit in the audience.' He can't very well make fun of the play if he's not watching it. ;)
But, this part is also true, very much so... something I'll need to take back into consideration. :D
Whoa, hey, where did all this come from? :) Slightly off-topic, too.
Anyway, what with my love for symbolism, this is impressive. :>
*points*
Date: 2003-04-27 07:27 pm (UTC)...yes.