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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Is not. Gives it texture. Do you have any idea how bloody boring it gets eating the same thing day in and out?

I guess. My mom used to make me tuna sandwiches every day.

That's a rough break. [If that's all you have to say about that, Sylar, he's going to keep eating his bloody eggo. Mm-mm good.]

I thought it was. [he shrugs and goes back to mauling his eggos. Finally, his curiosity overtakes him: ] how does it taste, anyway? The blood.

[He lifts an eyebrow, leaning back a bit as he addresses Sylar carefully.]

Blood tastes like life, mate. Simple as that. Human blood is much sharper, stronger-- but it's all life, all the same.

Always kinda tasted like pennies to me.

[between his mouthfuls of eggo he takes the time to notice the dead rabbit sitting on top of the microwave. he gestures to it with his fork and asks:]

Did you put that there?

[He's a little offended by the pennies remark, but as he opens his mouth to defend his blood and its delicious refreshing qualities, he catches the dead beady eyes of Sylar's rabbit--]

Wh-- No. Why would I put that there. It's your creepy souvenir. [he shrugs] Maybe Brian put it there. [Not that he believes himself...]

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.

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