11-08-2007, 05:34 PM
[html]
[/html]i'll be quicker now. yay.
"It can seem a little more complicated sometimes. It depends on how you think about things." Your perspective. It didn't seem strange to him, to sometimes be on either side of the fence, or sometimes ― fine, most of the time ― teetering somewhere in between. He couldn't think of anything that he really cared about now, so surviving was just what Arkham thought it was, to him. When he had been younger though, it had been a different story. It had been a constant struggle, a constant battle with himself whether he should just die or keep living for what he felt amounted to nothing. Now he knew it amounted to nothing, and so it didn't matter, because nothing ever did. His life was pathetic, he knew, but he no longer cared. Caring didn't change what was reality, anyway.
Does that even make sense? he suddenly asked, turning his great head to face the young coyote, wondering if anything he was saying was actually meaning something or it was thin as dust; too vague to elicit actual thoughts. He knew he wasn't really giving answers; he didn't want to corrupt still-impressionable youth. The sable male couldn't ameliorate his life, but he wouldn't wish anyone to be any degree of what he was either. Arkham could do whatever he wanted in his life, he could believe it meant any number of things, and he could make it anything he wanted, and whatever Castor said could possibly have an impact.