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Iceberg

Iceberg

Large, isolated, towering. An iceberg can seem massive at a glance, with the icy wall emerging from the waves. A mountain on the move, with a rising peak at the top. The real danger of one however, is what isn’t seen. Held down deep below, the real depth of the iceberg stretches into the darkness below. Some can go for miles, reaching out into places where the sun never quite reaches.

The majority of the glacier is in fact, submerged. Lost to the context of the eye.

It’s history, the seas that formed it, everything that came before is held down there, trapped beneath layers of ice and water around it. It is unlike a mountain, whose grandeur you can see for miles. The real story is hidden beneath the context, not what is found at the surface. All of the mass is hidden out from prying eyes atop the waves.

Scraping for the real truth at the top will hide what truly lurks down below.

And you have been scraping. I do not know how you got your hands onto that sacred scroll of the Odawara Clan. Perhaps you held it in that remote monastery, held away from the world on those high peaks. Or you stole it from the castle itself, seeking to claim a higher ground than I on a scale of morality. Searching for a way to break into my defenses.

All you can hope for though, is a surface level understanding.

Those words are ingrained into me, from my programming to the history. They are the life that I have existed, the people that I have cared for. Even with them gone, they are not forgotten. The context, the methods, all of that is still within me. With every action that I take, I am Odawara Incarnate. They live through my actions.

That depth is lost to one who can only see from his lofty spire. You miss any of that true meaning when you do not shift your focus. You can yell, and holler, and attempt to crack through from the top. But everything that matters, the way those rules were ever treated, is beyond what you can see.

You would have to plunge into the dark depths to really ever understand.

No, that gall keeps you high above, swinging a moral superiority like a beating stick. Taking things that do not belong in your hands, and dangling them over me like a string with a cat. It keeps you distracted, thinking that I care for what your perspective is. The words out of your mouth hold no weight.

My bond to the past runs deeper than anything you could ever know. The attempts to spark and upset only show that you have not contemplated enough. Not seen what I have seen. The depth is lost upon you, and will bite as you rush forward to an unfortunate fate.

Had you looked deep enough, you would have seen the blade coming for your neck.