Conflicting Thoughts (open)

[Vespyr]

Vespyr's elbows were splayed on the cafe table and her hands were dug deep into her messy pink hair. She was glaring at the napkin holder with intense frustration, but she wasn't thinking about the napkin holder. Inside her mind the two voices that seemed to jointly compose her being were arguing again. Vespyr felt like a child watching her parents screaming at eachother as the little conflict in her head grew more unbearable. It was always this way... Feeling a certain way but feeling quite the opposite at the same time, unable to make any sort of rational decision without undergoing intense mental torture... In her head, it was like an unstoppable force hitting an immovable object. Niether side of the argument would budge so Vespyr was left without any other option than to quietly sit through the massive mental game of tug-of-war. This time, the argument was about Dots.

Part of her was indifferent to his emotions and hated his guts and wished he would die. The other half, however, felt sympathy for him and tried to reason with both of their emotions.

He's an asshole, he fucked up my arm, he's just another dumb human. But he's still got feelings and so do I... but I don't care about his feelings. But I still feel kinda bad and I'm not sure I can just leave him behind. But it would be easier just to forget all about him...

Vespyr slammed a fist down onto the table, knocking over a salt shaker in the process. Though her face was turned to the wall, she could feel the burning stare from all the cafe patrons searing the back of her skull. Suddenly there was a small squeak and a movement in her coat pocket-- Fleesh! Vespyr sat up and withdrew the kitten from the black abyss, stroking his tiny head. "I'm sorry Fleesh." she murmered, setting the tiny thing down in her lap.

[Patrick O'Connor]

Patrick's head was pounding. His head was pounding, his vision a little hazy and his mouth tasted like vomit. That had been an hour ago. Now he was feeling a little better. As it turned out his vision was hazy from the headache which was no but an after thought. Thank God for pills huh? Some sorta pain kills, Patrick couldn't be sure what they were but they were something good, he had gotten them from a dealer. How much did he pay? Nothing, the entire bottle was free of charge, for a special customer like him. Well free of charge was a lie, he had paid for them with the dealer's knife down his throat. Now Patrick wasn't really one for any srug other then heavy alcohol but this pills were pretty good for getting rid of the hangover. He would have to hold on to them for later in the day when his self abusive style of drinking came back.

Now, however it was time to get that awful taste of vomit out of his mouth. Time for coffee. Only problem was his money was in the back of his truck, which he didn't feel like opening. Why? Because any passerby or cop would see enough illegal weaponry and dirty money to arm a platoon of solidiers. Long and highly illegal exploits landed those in his possesion, which contradictory enough to his current lifestyl were obtained under good intentions and actions, well at least the Pstrick of to years ago would have told you that. This Patrick however was completly amoral for all intents and purposes though, but anyway the narrator digresses. Patrick needed money that was more easily attainable. Time to see if his old skills were still in shape. Time to pick someone's pocket. Oddly enough after doing that for so many years it was like riding a bike.

Money in hand Patrick walked into the next coffee shop he found. He ordered a large coffee and picked it up. As he looked for a place to sit some girl with pink hair seemed to have a coniption fit. Well, actually she randomly slammed her fist down. Then pulled something out of her coat and started petting it and talking to it. Patrick being bored sat down asking her in his thick irish accent, "What the fuck is yer problem?"

To be honest Patrick didn't care what her problems were, he was caught halfway between didn't give a shit and boredom. He didn't care about her mental and personal problems simply because he had his own demons to deal with. He was simply here to kill time. Draw breath to that final one. The final moment. He didn't have any ambitions in life other then extinguishing his own pain and demons until the time came for his final bow. Everything else in between was just for amusement or distraction. Really muddled life actually.

If the girl decided to look at him she would see the Irish teen. Likely the first thing she would note was his face which contained a scar that was rather signature for him. ON the right side of his face there was a long vertical indenture of a ling that rand from his right eyebrow, bisecing his eye down past his nose but before the corner of his mouth. It was the first scar he had gotten and his first memory. His eyes were a deep green and his messy red hair came juest down past his ears, kept out of his eyes only by the white bandanna that was tied around his head. on his chest he wore a black tanktop that revealed the tips of his most famous scars, the pare of wings that were carved into his back. On his hands he wore black fingerless gloves with holes at the knuckles. For his legs he simply wore khaki cargo shorts. If the girl could smell then she would be able to tell that he smelled of alcohol, not immensely but it was an ever present.

He took one sip of his coffee as he looked her in the eyes, or where they would be if she looked at him...

[Vespyr]

Vespyr's hand froze with her fingers nestled in Fleesh's fur as this boy sat down at her table, sipping coffee and acting like he belonged there. Vespyr's face didn't change and she just glared at him, remembering the last time she decided to talk to strangers in a cafe and where she had ended up-- right back where she began.

However this time, her mental wall wasn't as isuperable as it was for many years of her life. She was beginning to see that it wans pointless to just fear and hate and ignore everyone around her. Now, she just didn't give a fuck anymore. She resumed her petting of the kitten and scoffed. "Nothing." she mumbled indifferently. The thoughts in her mind that had been ruthlessly using her as a battleground seemed to skitter away in hopes of a better pastime.

Hey violet eyes noted his carved face and the green eyes and the fiery red hair, and she picked up the bitter scent of alcohol on him. It seemed to emanate from his body like an overwhelming aura. Vespyr had tried alcohol once, and hated it. She had thrown up, and she was puzzled as usual at everyone else's intrigue with the drink. To her it was disgusting, but they all seemed to be amazed by it. People are so stupid.

[Patrick O'Connor]

"Nothing."

Patrick watched as she mumbled her answer, glaring at him. Honestly it was not what he expected. The quiet answer. Patrick thinking back on it was not sure what he was expecting. Sure, he was pretty sure that she wasn't going to up and hit him starting a fight in front of everyone, away from the school and on the streets where the police and charges of assault would get in the way. Then again he wasn't expecting her to just sit there and not do much of anything. To be honest Patrick really wasn't sure why he saw this as such a great idea anyway. What was supposed to happen? Some great revelation? That was a load of crap. Patrick actually thought, 'what the hell did I just do? There's no reason for this. Waste of my time.'

One thing Patrick did not was the glare that she was shooting at him. It bordered on disgust. That in itself was remotely amusing. The hate and contempt, Patrick was not really sure why he enjoyed it. Maybe it was because he was familiar with that same kind of hate? Everyone and everything there was really no one void of this kind of hate. But maybe on a deeper level it was amusing to him because it was pathetic. To hate so much on a level like that. Really it was pathetic. At a certain level Patrick realized and maybe would even admit that he was pathetic as well. Well those were two viable options but then again maybe it was because he was a drunk. Another acceptable option to him, honestly he didn't care.

Patrick stared at her with sort of a dark frown for a silent moment before stating a simple observation on life that he seemed to feel that she held as well, "Life is bullshit."

He couldn't quite explain it but he saw it in her eyes. The hate and disgust. It was something that was difficult to hide, at least to someone who was so familliar with it. But still Patrick just got that inkling from her. That she too understood that life was a stinking pile of shit...

[Vespyr]

Vespyr straightened in her seat a little at his words, cocking her head to the side a bit, still petting the kitten. A strand of pink hair fell away from her face, revealing more of her pale visage. Her indifferent glare had turned into a placidly interested gaze. Normally, the last thing anyone ever did when they approached her was to say something she actually agreed with. Vespyr was a little shocked but her face didn't show it. She was now in a situation where she had no idea what to do. Normally she would just kick him and leave, but she had changed, which she didn't realize. The contempt this femme held for the world was no longer burning like a wildfire, but it seemed to be tamed and simmered with more of a passion than reckless hatred.

Vespyr nodded slowly, looking into the stranger's green eyes and pursing her lips a bit in deep thought. She didn't quite know what to make of this person... Nobody had ever seemed to share her opinions before... This was something completely new. But she could see something in his eyes that was different than those sunk deep into the plastic faces of everyone else she had observed-- or killed. There was a subtle deepness to them that hinted at something more, like maybe an actual living, thinking mind beneath all that red hair instead of hollowness like all the rest.

"Yes, and the world is a fucked up place." She murmered, testing him just to see what his reaction would be, since it was still a mystery as to why he sat down here in the first place. If he truly wanted to talk, then they would talk. However, if he was just messing with her, then she might have to make use of the cheap plastic knives supplied so generously by the cafe.

[Patrick O'Connor]

"Are ye dull?," Patrick asked as if she were stupid, he was obviously not afraid of conflict, he gave a pause before he continued, "The world isn't a fucked up place. We are. The world is fucked up because of us. All the bullshit of what is right and wrong that humans have created. Unholdable morals. Hypocrisy that is bred by it leading to the suffering of those that are supposed to be good and the prosperity of those that are supposedly bad. It's pathetic. And bullshit."

Patrick took another drink of his coffee, "Bullshit is the reason people give for living. It's the reason for their suffering, and their life. It's a pathetic escapism. Life sucks and so weak willed individuals need to give some ulterior motive to it. That is bullshit. The idiots of this world need something to live for because they can't bear to face the truth. Living, that's as good as good as it gets. That's bullshit too."

Truth was it was that reason that got Patrick here, too this point. To San Francisco, to the West. Across nearly all the major cities in America. Every city seemed to tell the same story. Coruption and greed. The ones that strove for the American dream, following the values put forth by the leaders. See they were always down trodden. The corrupt and the "evil" they were the only ones who got anywhere. Seemed to Patrick the only sensible thing was to play by your own rules. To play by nature's rules. Survive, first and foremost, then really, do whatever you felt like doing. If you could get away with it and you felt like it, do it. Patrick was not afraid to do whatever it took anymore to live. He would maim kill and cripple. He didn't give a crap.

Sad and pathetic really, but thus was life...

[Vespyr]

Vespyr narrowed her eyes at him a bit, but thought over what he had said and decided that he was right. The world would be a swell place if it weren't for humans and their greed, money, vulgarity, and overall stupidity. "Well my knowledge only goes as far as my experience does, and my experience only goes as far as seeing that people are just... Selfish... perverted... idiotic, and... and all that shit. But some people are pretty okay, I guess. Although... I've never met anyone that I haven't wanted to outright snap their bones because of the fucked up things they do. Sometimes I just sit right out there, on that bench," she motioned with her dirty clawed hands out the window at the bench outside the cafe and continued, "and I watch people go by, and they don't seem to notice me. But its okay. I like it that way. They smell bad. But anyways, I watch them walk by and I wonder what the hell they're doing there... There are disgusting guys reading porno mags and women that are practically ORANGE from fake-tanning, with their hard-as-rock D-cup fake boobs and their little sports ourfits... with little dogs... I ate one once. And I just wonder, WHY? and WHAT THE FUCK? I mean, I don't see how they don't realize that the things they do are pointless... There's no point to anything... It astounds me how they walk so carelessly through their surreal little worlds, oblivious to eachother, thinking they're so damn wonderful. Well they are not wonderful. They are not pretty little flowers. They are not unique. They are all the same bullshit that brings no positive contributions to this world. I just want to kill them all..."

She was now hunched over the table with her long, thin fingers matched up to eachother, glaring with narrowed violet eyes at something elsewhere in the cafe on while she was ranting, which happened to be a small child. All in pink. Although Vespyr wasn't really looking AT the girl, the child certainly seemed to think so and was now whimpering. "SHUT UP, FOOLS. And why the fuck do you wear those stupid little pink leggings anyways, they make you look like a child prostitute. Get a life, you fucking moron." Vespyr snarled.

[Patrick O'Connor]

Patrick smiled, amused, perhaps slightly condescendingly if that was at all possible. She was full of big talk. She wanted to kill them all? Wanted to snap everyone's bones? She had large outbursts as well. Fairly violent too. Well it was obvious that she had at least a temper problem. But really? She had wanted to kill everyone? Patrick wondered if she really had killed, ever. Having spent a lot of time on the streets Patrick had met his share of posers, his share of wannabes and braggarts. None of whom actually killed but all who claimed. Or there was the possibility that she really was as messed up as she sounded. Either way Patrick had just decided that that outburst had made this little, adventure, worth it.

Though she didn't quite seem to get it. She still seemed to hold on to the fact that there are these, "ultimate truths". It was in the way she spoke. Positive contributions to the world? Please. To Patrick only naive fools seemed to think that things like that were possible. Killing people, now that had been done. Really it had done no good. Patrick had been there, done that. Still though for as strong as she might of seemed she was still weak. She still seemed to hold onto people in some degree. "pretty okay" had no real meaning but, "I like them but I don't think you, the person I'm talking too would approve." Pathetic. Patrick didn't know if she even sought his approval but it would be arrogant that she seemed to search for something from him, on some level. If so, why? Patrick had done nothing but insult her as he was about to again.

"Ye're weak," Patrick said, matter-of-factly, "Ye worry to much about other people and seek their approval too much to want to kill them all."

[Vespyr]

"You're weak." Vespyr forgot about the girl and turned her head back at the man sitting across from her, her face blank. Something in his words had sounded unlike anything she had ever heard anyone speak before, not even Gabriel with his sophisticated smooth-talk. However, he obviously shared a similar opinion as everyone else did-- that she was an attention-starved little freak who said what she didn't mean. But If he didn't realize by now that she had serious mental problems, he must have them too. She could tell he thought she was pathetic, she could see it in the way he looked at her. But maybe he couldn't tell she was a sociopath and didn't quite understand her anger. After all, he did not know her past. But Vespyr herself was not stupid; she knew she had problems and that they showed in the wierdest ways. She knew that anyone who had ever talked to her thought she was a freak. But she also knew that this redhead was right; she was weak. She was powerless- there was no use in her puffing out her chest and trying to make herself appear more than she was, because she was nothing. But it didn't bother her. However, she disagreed with him when he said that she needed approval. That was the last thing she needed, or wanted.

Her face was blank, her tone disbelieving and quiet. "To be approved by this society would make me just like them. I don't want that. I want to be away from them. And when they get in my way, I do what I have to in order to make sure that they stay away. And if that means killing someone, then I do it because I don't give a fuck about the consequences. Every stupid thing I see them do makes me increasingly angry. I think I would be happier- fuck that, I think I would be happy at all in the least bit if they were all gone."

After that statement, Vespyr resumed her pensive stare and folded her hands in front of her, thinking deeply. This man seemed to see right through her-- right through the anger and the hate, through the insanity and the bloodjust and right down to the confused, abandoned little girl on the the train that still dwelled there in the darkness beyond even the reach of Vespyr's memory. And it made her feel very, very weak indeed.

[Patrick O'Connor]

Denial, a petty thing. She didn't seem to realize that she needed attention and approval on some level at least. She was also a hypocrite. She said that she was outside of caring about the consequences, that she wanted to kill what? Everyone? But she said that she thought she would be happier with out everyone. That expressed uncertainty. She said she didn't need people but she didn't seem so sure about that one. If she wasn't ready to kill off the human race. Patrick hated everyone and everything. He didn't need people but he did acknowledge at some level he did want them around. Why? Because they were amusing. Especially the crazy ones like this girl. Patrick found a sick pleasure in breaking people physically. In the past year he had done it a number of times. Watching people simply, "give up" at the result of unending physical abuse was amusing. But to get some one to give up with out laying a hand on them? Without tying them up? Patrick could count the number of times he had done that on one hand. It was very difficult but in a certain sense there was almost a sense of beauty in it.

Time to play some more...

"Ye don't need societies approval?" Patrick asked cynically, "Of course not, but ye need people. Ye need someone's acknowledgement, of yer existence. To have to think about killing everybody. Fer all yer certainty ye are nothing. Just a lonely girl, uncertain of herself."

Patrick was aware how insulting and demeaning the thinks he had said. It may have very well been fighting words but far as Patrick figured, it didn't matter. It was all the fun of the game. There was a very good chance that he would lose, attempting to break the girl with words, but it was those odds that made winning ever sweeter. Though He wasn't quite exactly sure he was going to or even wanted to break her. Whims really. Right now it was just amusing being in her presence.

"Yer stupid too," Patrick commented, "Killing is all good fun but ye'd do it without worrying about consequence? Idiotic. Yer fun would soon come to an end. Fun and actions are only such, if ye can keep doing them. Consequences are important. Ye'd be wise to remember that."

It was odd and amusing. At the same time Patrick was playing two roles, subtley switching between them, unsubtley in some cases but still. At one level he was an enemy of a sort. Berating her and insulting her. At another level though he saw himself as some sort of sick mentor. It didn't really matter to him which one he played and any given moment so long as it gave him the most benefit, any sort of gain was accpetable.

Still though it was a tenuous position, he knew that she could lash out at any point or time and the irish man was indeed ready for that possibility. He would be stupid not to, but Patrick hoped that he could continue to play mind games for a little while longer, or chat. Once again whate every was most amusing...

[Vespyr]

Redhead's words didn't make any sense to Vespyr; here was a total stranger, ridiculing her like he knew how she truly felt. Criticizing her, yet uttering a few valid points that she took into consideration. For example, he was correct in saying that she was lonely. But his accusation was vague and what he didn't see was that she longed for one person only. Not a lover, (LOVE IS BULLSHIT) but someone who yes, would acknowledge her existance, but also would just provide someone for her to talk to. There would be none of that pointless emotional connection involved-- only understanding. Someone who saw the world as she did and was not like the rest of the people, and this was where redhead was wrong. All she needed was someone who was on her same level, and she would be fine.

Another point that she disagreed with was his view on consequence. "But it doesn't really matter to me if it all comes to an end. Sure, they'd lock me up, if they could ever catch me in the first place, that is. But even that isn't a big deal. Being locked in a little box would be a more pleasant time than spending a day out on the streets with these people. And I'd get free food. The worst they could do is kill me. Ya know, that death sentence crap. I think it would be a relief to die... But of course I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of doing it themselves. Fuck no, nobody has the right to kill me but me. Nobody makes me bleed me own blood. And I'd take down as many people as I could. I'd give them fucking hell for my own pleasure. And then it would all be over with, and I wouldn't have to deal with any of this bullshit any longer." she lingered on that last thought for a moment, contemplating extinguishing her meager existance. It wasn't an uncommon thought to find in her mind.

However, after a few of redhead's assumptions Vespyr realized that he was only trying to insult her, perhaps provoking a fight or maybe awaiting the satisfaction of causing an emotional breakdown, whatever would make his miserable life a little better for a moment or two.

Vespyr knew he wouldn't succeed; she could care less about what anyone thought of her, and especially didn't worry about redhead's opinions; he was indubitably wrong. His assumptions were most likely based on some deep-down longing to connect with somebody, or some bullshit like that. Why else would he sit down at some random girl's table only to criticize her? To get attention, of course, or some sick satisfaction in watching her lose her confidence. Vespyr didn't care. She knew his plan would fail, for she had no confidence to begin with. There was nothing that could possibly matter to her enough to bring her minutely close to a sense of pride or accomplishment. She was just another person in this surreal world; but one that could see the problems that most people seemed to be blind to. So there was no point in trying to bring her down when she was already the lowest of the low.

But something about the stranger and this spontaneous debate had her somewhat annoyed--but also amused at the same time. She was irked that he was wasting her time, first of all, for she noticed with a keen eye that it was daytime and she shouldn't be here at all. Her domain was the night. However, she had a strange fascination with his built-up ego-- he criticized her for being so attention-starved and perhaps forgot about his own emotions. Maybe he was lonely like he accused her of being. Like a little wimpy kid trying to act tough so all the other kiddies on the playground would think he was cool.

"What about you, then? You think I need the approval of people? Well then, what about you? If you can honestly say that somebody like me-- somebody who doesn't give a rat's ass about the value of other peoples' lives-- needs attention, then what does that say about you? Because you really seem to think you're superior to me. If someone like me needs attention then you must be starved for it, you poor, poor thing. Mummy and daddy didn't love you enough, eh? Or was it those kids that would never play with you at school because you were one of those lonely outcast-types? So you take out your built-up emotion and pin it on somebody else, maybe in an attempt to get over yourself. You act like you don't give a fuck about anything at all, but if you really did, you wouldn't be here right now, trying to upset me. And I can tell you with all honesty that you're wrong about me. I don't need anyone and I like it that way." Vespyr's words streamed out smoothly and she was almost grinning.

She knew he'd probably deny everything she said, whether she was correct or not, but Vespyr didn't really give a shit. It was pointless anyhow, and a waste of her time, but she might as well stay here until the sun went down again. It wouldn't be like her to walk out in broad daylight-- even looking at the dirty, tinted windows made her squint.

[Patrick O'Connor]

"To each their own," Patrick said offhandedly, "Though I'd rather be out free. Death would be be preferable, I'd agree with ye on that one. But I ain't laying down and dying fer no one. And everything fer yer own pleasure. That's what life really is about, the ultimate bullshit."

Now Patrick was about to do something that was likely to suprise her. Something that was the exact opposite of what she expected. He was going to agree with her, on most every thing she said, "Yer right though. I do seek attention. I don't seek approval but at some levels I use their attention. Amusing really, but yeah I do. Fun game too. And yes, I am attention starved from "Mummy and Daddy"", Patrick said in a mocking tone, "Did they love me enough? I dunno the only think I remember of them is dying, but that's their fault, better them then me. And yer right the kids at the play ground didn't play with me, cuz they died. Everylast one of them. And yeah I did need people's approval and love once upon a time. Bullshit though. Last time I make that mistake. Now people are nothing more then pawns to me. Toys to be played with until they break and then thrown away."

Patrick honestly didn't care what she thought of him. Because she, life everyone else, was just a toy to be picked up and played with, only when he felt like it, and thrown away when it ceased to be fun or broken.

All of this finally culminated into one final admitance and implication, "And yeah, yer implications are right I am in fact pathetic. Only thing is I actually admit it. So maybe yer the one that needs to get over theirself."

Yeah there it was. A sick story of his failures, some at least. There it was. Thing was that Patrick was still considering himself supierior to her and his tone implied it. He believed it and felt that she could argue differently if she prefered...

[Vespyr]

Vespyr laughed and nestled her head in her hand with her elbow propped up onto the table, peering at him curiously, almost playfully. She was now smiling, but not in an arrogant, triumphant manner; she was beginning to feel a little lighthearted. Talking to someone who wasn't completely braindead was... Well, it was refreshing.

"Well I know I'm pathetic. We all are. There's nothing to get over there. Its just matter-of-fact." she giggled, shaking her head, staring off into space again. "And sorry about the parents, if you need any sympathy. But if you don't then fuck it, maybe they are better off dead. I don't mean it when I say sorry anyways... At least you don't have to wonder about them. I can't even remember mine. But, seeing the way I am and where I am, I s'pose they just didn't want me. I'm glad they ditched me, though, because if I hadn't been..." she searched around the cafe for someone to use as an example, and saw a few typical high-school aged girls. Tight clothes. Ugg boots... Perfectly pretty faces, and of course, dexterous fingers with shiny polish for all that cell phone use. So typical.

"I probably would have ended up like them." she pointed, not really smiling anymore. Her face was blank and she just stared, lost in thought. But she came to quickly and turned back to redhead and looked straight into his eyes while she spoke this time.

"But I'm sorry, because you're not going to get the satisfaction of seeing me break down. I'm not like the rest of them-- not saying I'm any better or any worse, but everything that undermines their emotions only makes mine more detached, and stronger. I've been building a wall all these years, and I just can't bring myself to give a shit anymore. So go ahead and try, you'd just be wasting your time. You can insult me wall you want, but seeing your frugal attempt to bring me down is only going to bring me amusement. And get off your damn high-horse, because its not getting you anywhere. You are just the same garbage as I and the rest of these goddamned people."

[Patrick O'Connor]

Patrick chuckled when she admitted that she was pathetic as well. Well played, well played. She certainly was not going to crack. Oh well. That was the fun of the game. Some time you lost, some times you won. Most of the time you lost but whatever. He gave a grin when she said that she was sorry, offered him her sympathy. She didn't mean it. she didn't need to say that for him to know. That was oddly funny though. She said she wasn't like them, ironically, she couldn't quite seperate herself from the rest of the human race. Her fake sympathy proved that one. Another joke that Patrick found.

Then she went on into her speech that he wasn't going to get to see the satisfaction of seeing her break down and how he needed to get of his high horse. Whatever.

"Well Damn," Patrick said with a grin, "Ye beat me. I don't get to see ye break down. Oh well, ye win some and ye lose most of them. Better that way if ye ask me, the fewer the better. It makes the victory that much sweeter. But yer preachin' to an empty church house if ye want me to stop seeing meself as better then everyone. That's my bullshit. I got mine to hold onto, just like ye have yers. Guess that's what makes us human. Why we never really can sepereate ourselves. But hell, if its that way I guess I don't really want to be seperated from the human race, it's just too much damn fun. Killin them, watching em break down and just give up and die."

Though Patrick did note something with her. An interesting observation that was made through her. He had countless bits of proof to prove his point but it really was her that made him realize it.

"Ye rasied yerself," Patrick stated, pointing out the obvious, pausing, half to antagonize her half to set up his opinion, "Yer too strong to be broken, to just give up and die. Sure, death may be yer salvation but until that final blow yer kicking and screaming. The streets have made ye too strong fer that haven't they? The streets are a hard, but good mother."

[Vespyr]

The girl slowly nodded, fingers drumming the table, her pointy figernails making an eerie clicking sound. She agreed with a majority of what redhead said, but still didn't understand why he insisted he was superior. Then admitted that it was bullshit. His bullshit. That was just plain stubbornness, but Vespyr wasn't going to ridicule him for it. There was no point. When people were stubborn, especially people like redhead who had raised themselves up so much, they were like cats stuck at the top of a tree. Couldn't get down even if they wanted to. Alteration of their opinions was futile. Same thing went for religious people; they were impossible. (and very ignorant)

"Well, whether you are better than everyone else or not, you're certainly different. Not like anyone I've ever met, at least. Not as stupid. Who are you, anyhow?" Vespyr suddenly inquired, not really knowing what else to say. Since both of their points had been made, there was no use in arguing further in either direction.

Vespyr felt... wierd. This was the first time she had held a conversation with a stranger and not ended up in a... fit. On any normal occasion she couldn't stand people in her presence at all. But something that happened in the past month had changed her way of thinking and acting; she still couldn't put a finger on it but didn't give a shit. She knew that whatever happened, her thoughts and actions would always be the product of an unsound mind. Vespyr felt both matured and unnerved. It went against her morals to act like this, tolerant; but then again, she was the kind of person who didn't believe in morals... She certainly did contradict herself a lot. She hated it. Most of her internal arguments had to do with that exact issue. It was exhausting.