everything's gotta burn to get back to its purest state;

all the best has yet to be laid to waste

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[rl] get your own bed spike >:(
here i dreamt i was an architect
[It's 4 am. Sylar is sleeping. Because that's usually what normal people do at 4 am. He's dreaming about ice caves ... ]

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I don't know! I didn't put it there. [His eyes wander up toward the ceiling, where Brian is presumably sleeping upstairs. Why the fuck would he move Sylar's creepy taxidermied rabbit? It was like the most pointless thing on earth. ... HEY WAIT.]

It's not creepy! It's the only thing I ever did with my real dad. Not that I even like him. It just. It's sentimental to me. Can you even understand that? What that means?

No, Sylar, that's not- If you didn't move it, and I didn't move it, and the wanker upstairs didn't move it. What? What's that mean?

[blank, deadpan stare] I guess it must have moved itself.

It's a dead stuffed rabbit. No. Something's going on here. And I don't like the smell of it.

I hope you mean the metaphorical smell. Nothing's wrong with the way my rabbit smells.

[Yeah, he's ridiculously overprotective of the rabbit. Sue him. Now it's time to go Mortal Kombat on these eggos and perform a fatality move.]

Your rabbit smells fine. I mean with this place.

Don't think it's so normal as Brandon seems to think. For one thing, this sun burns me. Means there are vamps here.

You mean there are places where the sun doesn't burn you?

[Look, Sylar doesn't care enough about Spike's hard vampire life to know this shit.]

Edited at 2011-03-14 02:46 am (UTC)

[He nods, happy to enlighten Sylar okay.]

Each world has its own rules.

Sounds exciting. [He actually takes a minute to consider this.] I wonder if there are worlds where my powers work differently. Where I'm something different. Someone different.

[Spike nods thoughtfully.] Probably.

[WOW WHAT AN ANTICLIMACTIC WAY TO RESPOND TO SYLAR'S PHILOSOPHICAL QUANDARIES. The stare Sylar is giving Spike is enough to express how extremely displeased he is.]

..Who do you think you would be, without... you know. All this.

Before I was a vampire, I was a poet. Bloody awful one, at that.

At least that's something. I was never much of anything. I restored time pieces, and it was good at it, but ... I hated it, you know? I hated everything. I was so miserable until all this happened to me. As bad as things became, I don't think I could go back to that. I'd die first.

Then it's a good thing we landed here, huh? [something about the way Sylar said that, didn't sit right with him, and it feels really gay to say this. but it's also right, so what the hell.]

Sylar, you could never.. not be anythin'. Might feel that way, but it's not true.

[Sylar is not comfortable with the direction this conversation is headed in. At all.] You can't say that. You didn't know me before.

No, I didn't. But I know you now, and that's enough for me.

But me now is different from me then. That's what I'm trying to say. [Now he's getting huffy.] But it doesn't matter. So let's not talk about it.

Can't get me to back down so easily. That's why you did all this, to be someone.

That's why I did it all too. That's all I'm sayin'.


[That actually gets Sylar to stop rolling around in his pit of ~woe is me~ for a minute.]

And we see how well that turned out for the two of us.

[Nevermind. He's back.]

We can still be.. something. Just not the same something's we thought we would be. [He looks down into his blood. Trying to cheer Sylar up is, bringing him down.]

I appreciate what you're doing here, Spike. I really do. But I think it's too early to talk about this.

[Spike nods, going to rinse his mug.] More eggos? Or I could make real waffles this time around.

[He puts his elbows on the table and rests his head against his palm, watching Spike make his way around the kitchen.] Can you make waffles?

Yeah, course I can. I'm a vampire, not a moron.

You're the one who made the eggos first.

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