Post by sabasti112 on Jun 12, 2012 5:35:19 GMT -5
Benji took his hand that was fiddling with the table and slowly took it off as if disgusted with something that was on it. Taking it he stuck it in his pocket, his eyes alight, studying the Lycan's face. Trying to determine how to proceed with such a question. Not very many would answer a question with another question, unless they were looking towards finding something out through having there question answered before the previous one.
Smiling as he looked down at his clothing, pulling his left hand out slowly he placed the edge of his suit in between his thumb and forefinger. Rubbing the fabric. feeling its smooth surface glide like that of a skater on ice. His skin was naturally cold, his blood wasn't running warm, and he can only remember it as it is. Not able to recall the comfortable temperature of soft warm skin. The skin he was born into, the now thin skin that bore memory of warmth. Even as a human Benji was always cold. everyone around him when he was younger would bother him about it. Now it suited him, Benji was accustomed to it.
The corners of his mouth perking up, making an arc that showed a bit of humor. Taking his question in and thinking about it put him at a standstill, he didn't feel like discussing the balance of his races norms and its fragile community. Each vampire was normally responsible for his/her self. Few took the company of another, unless they were of the weak minded, which is how Benji thought of them. Benji knew how many of them were leeches to their own kind, bottom feeders that took the scraps of the elder vampires. Picking up skills that they would use on the unsuspecting elder. Trying to take over their power, snatching the seat they had built themselves up on. Only to be stolen by an even more bloodthirsty weak minded vampire.
Benji would not allow himself to speak of his own kind anyway, though he didn't care at all for his race's problems. It was the fact he didn't want to be caught up in someones eyes as a traitor. One thing he could not live with is having his own kind, the vampires, on his tail. Each one wanting to tear at his throat, spilling cold blood upon the cold floors. Taking Raban in once more with his eyes, which never missed any detail, tracing the lines on his face as if he were painting a picture of the man. Benji would need to stay vigil in this conversation if he wished to not be at all lost.
Smiling as he looked down at his clothing, pulling his left hand out slowly he placed the edge of his suit in between his thumb and forefinger. Rubbing the fabric. feeling its smooth surface glide like that of a skater on ice. His skin was naturally cold, his blood wasn't running warm, and he can only remember it as it is. Not able to recall the comfortable temperature of soft warm skin. The skin he was born into, the now thin skin that bore memory of warmth. Even as a human Benji was always cold. everyone around him when he was younger would bother him about it. Now it suited him, Benji was accustomed to it.
" You would seek the answer to a question few could answer?"
The corners of his mouth perking up, making an arc that showed a bit of humor. Taking his question in and thinking about it put him at a standstill, he didn't feel like discussing the balance of his races norms and its fragile community. Each vampire was normally responsible for his/her self. Few took the company of another, unless they were of the weak minded, which is how Benji thought of them. Benji knew how many of them were leeches to their own kind, bottom feeders that took the scraps of the elder vampires. Picking up skills that they would use on the unsuspecting elder. Trying to take over their power, snatching the seat they had built themselves up on. Only to be stolen by an even more bloodthirsty weak minded vampire.
Benji would not allow himself to speak of his own kind anyway, though he didn't care at all for his race's problems. It was the fact he didn't want to be caught up in someones eyes as a traitor. One thing he could not live with is having his own kind, the vampires, on his tail. Each one wanting to tear at his throat, spilling cold blood upon the cold floors. Taking Raban in once more with his eyes, which never missed any detail, tracing the lines on his face as if he were painting a picture of the man. Benji would need to stay vigil in this conversation if he wished to not be at all lost.