three | video

[urnotafraid]

[ The room's pretty dark, even for winter in Exsilium. All that is visible is a small sputtering candle and Sho. He looks like he cleaned himself up a bit - his braids are all neat and his clothing looked like they've been laundered, but he also looks a little paler and there's a slight slur to his words as if he was rather tired.

Spoiler - he's just hungry and being broody. Silly bby vampire that he is. ]

If there was something you could get - like an object or a food - what would it be? Is there something that you would kill for? Or would it be something different? Would you kill for a person? Would you kill to protect?

Or should we just accept how things are and not think of whatifs and could-have-beens?

[ This was going to be an offer to work with the smugglers in bringing goods over from the UE but Sho's train of thought got derailed by other matters. ]

Comments

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[urnotafraid]

What I need.

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[bratworth]

Yes, and what is it, specifically, that you need?

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[urnotafraid]

[ Just sighs a little and pulls his lips back to show his teeth - especially the fangs. ]

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[bratworth]

[ He draws back slightly from the video feed in alarm, although he quickly attempts to recollect himself. Once upon a time, he would have dismissed what he was seeing as supernatural nonsense, but after four months in Exsilium he was starting to slowly redefine the limits of 'possible'.

Thinking back on their conversation, his eyes narrow: ]

So you think we're food, is that it?

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[urnotafraid]

I think you're a person that also happens to smell like food. [ there's a difference. a small difference but a difference none the less. ]

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[bratworth]

Well, you won't be permitted to eat us.

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[urnotafraid]

Does it sound like I want to eat you? You're not my type.

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[bratworth]

You just said that I smell like food. What am I supposed to think? !

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[urnotafraid]

Everyone smells like food. I just prefer weeding out the criminals.

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[bratworth]

... And just what is that supposed to mean?! That you only eat criminals?

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[urnotafraid]

It means exactly what you think it means.

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[bratworth]

And what gives you the right to determine who is or isn't a criminal?

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[urnotafraid]

I was one once. I know the type and I know how to find them. What? You think I won't know who is and is not a killer? I can smell blood on people's hands years after it's been washed away.

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[bratworth]

You're just one person. Who's to say that your judgement is not clouded in some way?

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[urnotafraid]

And what about your judgement?

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[bratworth]

... Is based in evidence and facts, as befits my profession.

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[urnotafraid]

So facts versus facts and evidence versus experience. Hate to break it to you, but it seems we both aren't the kind that are easily fooled.

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[bratworth]

Experience is not a form of proof.

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[urnotafraid]

Proof can be faked. Experience can tell the difference.

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[bratworth]

Which is why one should have both. That being said, experience itself is never sufficient on its own.

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[urnotafraid]

I trust my experience over someone's proof any day.

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[bratworth]

It is unfortunate, then, that there is no standard to measure mere experience against.

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[urnotafraid]

There's no standards for anything save for whatever the ruling body deem to fit.

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[bratworth]

Well, in that case, you would find this city's ruling body to be the Initiative, and they are the ones lending their support to the future of my profession.

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[urnotafraid]

And I'm suppose to trust that?