Gabriel Gray (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
watchmakers_son) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
milliways_bar2007-10-06 10:44 pm
watchmakers_son) wrote in milliways_bar2007-10-06 10:44 pm
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Sylar hasn't eaten anything, ordered by himself or not, since walking into Milliways a few days ago and finding it teeming with animals that didn't (tICk) quite sound like (ttticK) animals.
Sometimes, however, precaution only goes so far. Especially if it's precaution in the wrong direction.
During one particular long and barren stretch of highway in rural Ohio, Mohinder, with the passion of a true professor, spent fifteen minutes describing in a rapid-fire cadence how the cockroach was the pinnacle of the evolutionary ladder. Strangely enough, Sylar isn't deriving much comfort from that at the moment.
What he's doing instead is perching on a chair back, motionless save the wary twitching of his antennae, as he struggles to interpret his new senses.
[ooc: eep! I love you all, but please no more new threads. *drowns*]
Sometimes, however, precaution only goes so far. Especially if it's precaution in the wrong direction.
During one particular long and barren stretch of highway in rural Ohio, Mohinder, with the passion of a true professor, spent fifteen minutes describing in a rapid-fire cadence how the cockroach was the pinnacle of the evolutionary ladder. Strangely enough, Sylar isn't deriving much comfort from that at the moment.
What he's doing instead is perching on a chair back, motionless save the wary twitching of his antennae, as he struggles to interpret his new senses.
[ooc: eep! I love you all, but please no more new threads. *drowns*]
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There's a pause before, "You only showed me that one..."
He leaves it for a moment, but then adds, "Having something like... 'untransform from a cockroach' probably would've been helpful, now."
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The vocalization that follows, however, sounds remarkably like one thanks to Bar's translation, and it's matched with another irritated flare of his wings.
Sylar then inches lower and continues, scornfully, "It would have been lost with the rest. No more useful."
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Seeming to have only noticed the flare of wings - "Are you going to fly?"
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Sylar flutters his wings again, a bit slower this time, as if he's just becoming aware of them. They don't feel particularly strong, he thinks. Certainly not enough for any long, sustained flying.
"No."
Purely physical abilities like this are -- different.
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- Ok, so a lot of Sylar's evolution talk has gone to that part of the brain of 'justifications people have for blowing stuff up that I stopped paying attention to.' And he wolf could care less about its evolutionary imperative, so it takes Behrooz a moment.
"... adapting. And fitting in."
Though, Behrooz can see being eager to make clear one wasn't a smashable insect.
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It's practically spat. Sylar's antennae quiver.
"Is that what you think evolution is meant to do?"
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And then nudges the chair with his head, moving it maybe an inch. Bored wolf still doesn't care about evolution.
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Sylar loses his hold on the chair and starts to tumble down.
Halfway down, his wings snap open, whirring frantically with little conscious thought behind it -- and to his faint surprise, it holds him aloft. Clumsily so, and he can already feel himself beginning to tire, but it's better than landing on the floor next to Behrooz.
Slow and laborious, he wobbles his way higher and manages to catch hold of the table's edge. Instantly, he tucks his wings shut, scuttles onto the table proper, and disappears from sight.