milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Then feel all you like." He replies indifferently. "I prefer not to."

But the smirk falters a bit, because it is not only that he does not wish to, but that also cannot. He feels much less already, and less humanity.

"It might just as easily be anyone." He adds, somewhat resigned. "Even a human may be evil, may kill needlessly, and that almost certainly will be me, someday. It is only a matter of time."

"That is obvious." She catches the falter, but presses on. He doesn't deserve anything from her.

"Yes, it certainly will be you. And it would have been you before the blood froze your heart and lungs. It is what you are, Montparnasse. A sick bastard. You find things and people that you care for, and then you bring about their death."

"It all seeps off of you. You're incorrigible. You pretend to treasure your friends but would kill them in a rage. You will end up alone. It is people and things like you that I hold in contempt."

Most of this is guesswork, based off what she can feel from him. But some, she simply knows.

He looks up, at the second statement, and watches her intently. He finds that he is little concerned with what she knows or reads, beyond a few specific details.

So he watches and listens, but with perfect calm. A very faint curling of his lips, at the corners, must certainly follow. "You tell me things that I have known for years, girl." He points out coldly. "Nothing that I do not already realize, and while you can say this, can repeat what you think you see and know of me, you would not understand it." Even he does not completely, to be entirely truthful.

"...And it very rarely requires rage."

She shakes her head. "I do not pretend to understand. I do not wish to understand. But do not pretend to understand what I am, or what I do. My experiences shape me, in the same way that they shape you. You know barely anything of me or my past."

She's quiet for a moment, and when she speaks, her words are soft. "What do you see, when you look at the world?"

And he cannot really say that he cares to know, but he does not leave, nor chase her away either.

At the question, his eyes narrow suspiciously. "How do you mean?" He demands coldly. "Why do you ask me that?"

But the answer is simple. Humanity and the results of their actions. All of their flaws. It is the same thing he has always seen. That much has barely changed. So he offers his reply. despite suspicion.

"I see pain, ignorance, and cruelty, mademoiselle." A rueful grin. "And if those are the only options that man might aspire to, it is clear which I chose."

"I ask because, though I do not wish to understand, I feel that I must on some level. I do not think you are the type who hogs pity, but I also don't believe you are the type who could live alone, without contact."

She does not know if he will reply, but she holds up her hand to stop any argument he might put forth.

"Life spat you out. Vampirism doesn't seem to be treating you any better. But as often as I see you alone, I see you with someone. Talking, threatening, all manner of actions. And as hard as I try to not see you as a little boy lost, I cannot help it. I will not tell you that there are other things out there. Hopefully you know this, deep down."

She closes her eyes. "I am tired, and I am thirsty. If we ever speak again, which I believe is inevitable, maybe we can speak normally. Without yelling or philosophy."

As she walks away, her posture is stiff and guarded. She never knew how things would end up when she spoke to Montparnasse, and she hated the unknown.

He frowns, because he knows and does not wish, just yet, to do anything about it. He doesn't want anyone trying to remind him either.

"We still need to see to your closet." He mutters as she walks off.

Another time then.