Here is the thing: I don't really care if it's better.
[ It's said with that lazy, idle tone, like he's explaining it to a child. Silco was not normally a patient man, but with the Blight increasing, and since he doesn't know this person, he's not exactly going to be picking a fight. (Yet) Not with an unknown entity. He may have seen all those great, and terrible creatures and things, but he doesn't exactly want to spit in her eye over relatively nothing. ]
I don't really care about the new world either. I come from a place where there's not enough to go around, and it's made me hard, and willing to do anything to achieve my goals. I'm an old man from a city that chews up our youth and spits them out broken and bleeding, and too weak to do little more than beg or steal most of the time. [ A beat, and a smile. ] Do I look like a beggar to you?
Nor do I care if it is the same, or better, or even worse. I care that the rest of this exists, while my city is gone. [ The more he talks, the more fervent he gets, his tone hissed and punctuated with sharp consonants, as he enunciates, talking about the situation as he saw it. There is, of course, the implication that thrums under all of it. The unspoken wound, and the only thing that would have made Silco consider Meridian. Though, now that he has it -- since he has it -- he could do little more than bring about the end as fast as he could. ]
What I want, is for the rest of them to come crumbling down, just as mine had.
[ Silco had always been a vengeful little monster, though. ]
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Here is the thing: I don't really care if it's better.
[ It's said with that lazy, idle tone, like he's explaining it to a child. Silco was not normally a patient man, but with the Blight increasing, and since he doesn't know this person, he's not exactly going to be picking a fight. (Yet) Not with an unknown entity. He may have seen all those great, and terrible creatures and things, but he doesn't exactly want to spit in her eye over relatively nothing. ]
I don't really care about the new world either. I come from a place where there's not enough to go around, and it's made me hard, and willing to do anything to achieve my goals. I'm an old man from a city that chews up our youth and spits them out broken and bleeding, and too weak to do little more than beg or steal most of the time. [ A beat, and a smile. ] Do I look like a beggar to you?
Nor do I care if it is the same, or better, or even worse. I care that the rest of this exists, while my city is gone. [ The more he talks, the more fervent he gets, his tone hissed and punctuated with sharp consonants, as he enunciates, talking about the situation as he saw it. There is, of course, the implication that thrums under all of it. The unspoken wound, and the only thing that would have made Silco consider Meridian. Though, now that he has it -- since he has it -- he could do little more than bring about the end as fast as he could. ]
What I want, is for the rest of them to come crumbling down, just as mine had.
[ Silco had always been a vengeful little monster, though. ]