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A slight distasteful twist of her lips signified that she disagreed as well as the next words she spoke "I'm nicer then I was, and about 50 years ago I also was a party animal. I could always do well with holding my liquor, maybe its because I'm elven but maybe its because I'm just good at it. And no, i'd restrain every part of your body. And exhaling at a later date would do no good, as the plants like to absorb the nutrients from bodies, at least certain ones that I've made adaptable to that for my own defense. And why the hell should I believe in myself more?" A sligiht snort signified her idea's in that area as they continued to trudge on her legs feeling slightly tired from all the carrying but not minding the burning sensation, as it signified she was exercising.

"If you sleep soundly I wouldn't need my plants to kill you. You bleed, and you'd be sleeping. A swift stab in the heart or knife across your throat might hold the same idea." She stoped, the house insight now and easily reachable within a few more moments. It wouldn't take them to long, thankfully as Iluday was getting heavier then what she ewanted him to be.

"I am as I am, thats all. I secluded myself for the past while because people were bothering me, made me feel worse then I already felt. But at least now I'm 'back' persay. I'm starting to think I might have dissociative personality disorder. At least with the dramatic ways I've been handing things. I'm sorry about rambling for so long, it really is just the rantings of a bored elf. At least you arn't a bad drunk, huh?" She said, playing aroud by elbowing him in the ribs as they came to the front door of her house.

Um... damn. That was all him. No one else could hear what I said to him, ergo he needed not reply to save face. Everything he said went beyond confirmation of the pitiful man I feared he was and judging by the naive strength of conviction behind his words it was apparent that, frankly, someone needed a hot cup of milk, some mushed peas, and a nap. I wasn't about to have my a** handed to me by a man who technically should have died multiple times over by now due to ingesting thirteen times the lethal dose of delusions of grandeur. That poor man... so helplessly trapped within a church of his OWN creation. Now THAT was a piteous existence that took talent sustain. What knew he of the SOURCE of ANYTHING? A liftime to him was a year to me... I'd seen empires with more relative power than his fall before, and he has the nerve to question MY outlook on the source, form, contour, and dynamics of our continuum? And... never worked a day in my life? Wow... try ending the wikka fission, the salem witch trials, and the black plague, creating the grand canyon (long story), lighting the dark ages, and playing a key role in developing the atmospheric system that eventually caused hurricane Katrina...

As he exited the restaurant, I was leaning against the entrance. Funny how he thought of it as an exit...

"You wear the clothes, I am the clothes... are you implying you can wear me? You, sir, seem to be a complete b*****d. You have no idea what I 'represent,' yet you say these things anyway. You aren't the world, so you'd do well not to pretend you possess the eyes through which it judges me and everyone else. You assume too much about a book with a mere glance at its cover. Perhaps you should learn to read. Maybe then you'd discover the true nature of control and just how far you are from it.

"Furthermore, I know I'm certainly not the source of anything significant, but neither are you. No one is. The difference, my hypoctrytic friend, is that I don't pretend to be. I've met you before... many times. You are one in a line of formulaic, arrogant individuals that believe the world belongs to them due to the staggering magnitude of their alleged successes and lemme tell you, SON, I have created more in my lifetime than you can ever hope to achieve. The fact that I don't feel an inane, superfluous need to wear it on my sleve as a security blanket doesn't make the depth, breadth, and logged extractions of your experience any more 'significant' than mine.

"And 'tapping on the wellsprings of prosperity?' Spare me... that is precisely the process by which your self-proclaimed 'significance' has been derived. All I have taken from you is time, which you don't seem to value anyway. If, after a nice nap, you are a little less fussy, maybe you can capitalize on said loss of time. Your life, as it stands, is a mere congregation of vapors that will dissipate as easily as they aligned.

"Oh... and don't 'SON' me, b***h. Implying that you have any paternal wisdom to impart to me has ceased to be condescending because it proves just how far beyond your comprehension I truly am. Maybe you'll understand when, if ever, you are a few hundred years older.

"Afraid of the truth? Concealing myself? I'm not the one that needs to define himself through such an insubstantial purchase. By the way: I've seen the truth. If you were truly wise, you would fear it too. Why don't YOU come talk to ME when you're ready to stop running from your own fears, eh kid?"

He had no idea what he was dealing with. With a mere touch of concentration on my part, the 'pen' he thought he pried out of the table fell through the hand that was still 'carrying' it. It bounced once off the ground and when it impacted a second time, it shattered like glass. The shards then liquified as they rebounded into the air and reformed into the same pen which then straightened its motion path and drove itself into the concrete. The pen then dissappeared completely and the concrete suddenly appeared as if it had never been touched. "For a parlor trick, I sure seemed to have you convinved."

He had tried to 'clarify' something to me. The people who attempt to instill clarity in others usually gaze on them through a clouded glass and this man was no exception. An illusion is literally only as real as you let it be.

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: Varian's eyes nearly popped out of her skull as she listened to the unnamed man's monologue. One thing could be said about Atlantis; there was never a shortage of interesting conversations to listen in on. She stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork and coated it in rice by rolling it in the stuff, causing it to stick to the gooey orange sauce. Varian popped the piece into her mouth and shifted her gaze to the crazy girl who had been laughing for about two minutes now. Odd. She had always though the resteraunt a quite place, how wrong she had been! :

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Upon having his chopsticks snatched from him and his meal interrupted, Kakashi blinked in confusion and sighed. Apparantly she was either stupid to not know of chopsticks, or was just very childish. He was rather shocked though when one of the utencils was thrown at his head. He didnt bother to dodge it though, for it caused him no harm. When his sword was snatched from the table however, he immidiately followed the woman, much more closely and quietly than she would likely know.

It would be when she paused by the trees that Kakashi would reach down and attempt to pluck his weapon out of the girls hands while speaking softly. "You shouldnt steal other peoples things. It's impolite. That and it could get you killed, were the person not like myself in wanting to remain anonymus." His accent was fluid and graceful, yet didnt speak of any particular region he might have come from. A low baritone that rolled from his tongue and lips like water gently flowing down a stream. "Now if you don' mind, I shall take my weapon back and resume my meal. Unless you want to make this more difficult than it has to be?"