Typhuun: ::Upon hearing the name of the sword, Typhuun frowned as though he were momentarily confused. He murmured slightly:: Masamune. . . I thought that was the name of. . . ::His gaze drifted off to the side, and he was silent for a moment. It was true that all soldiers had a connection of some kind to their weapon, but Typhuun’s was closer still; his weapon was physically a part of him. Grafted onto his tail when he was still a young boy, that blade had been a part of him for over two-hundred years. The grafting process had been unspeakably painful, and the use of the weapon had been, at first, awkward at best, dangerous at worst. Still, with the weapon as an ever-present and unremoveable part of him for well over two centuries, using it had become as natural as breathing. Typhuun could use it to cut a fly in half while it buzzed about him; he could sever a single hair from a person’s head. It was immutably and forever a part of him. Suddenly, remembering that there was another person present, he snapped out of his thoughts, turning his eyes back to Tiphareth. He looked at her closely, the focusing of his eyes imperceptible because of their color. He abruptly remembered that he was not wearing his usual sunglasses. His black eyes, unsettling to most, frightening to some, were completely exposed, which was a rare sight indeed. It didn’t matter; if Tiphareth was disturbed by the sight, she didn’t show it. He looked at her once more before he spoke.:: I find that noticing one’s surroundings can be useful when involved in careful contemplation. There are times when the things we face in our lives can overwhelm us. I’ve felt it; I’m sure you’ve felt it too. . . this feeling that there’s just too much to deal with; that there’s just nothing in life worth living for; it’s like I’m being dragged down into an abyss, like I’ve been tied to an anchor and tossed into the ocean. But somehow, for me at least, this setting helps to fix all that ::He indicated the forest with his hand:: In these woods are healing and nourishment that exist nowhere else in this world. I could live a hundred lifetimes here. Indeed, what calamity can befall us that simple solitude within a place of such beauty cannot remedy? Beauty, and love are the two greatest joys of existance, and if you have sworn off one, then at least take note of the other. If life has done so much ill to you, then forget your old life, and begin anew. What better place to do so than in this place of immutable and unending growth? ::He indicated a nearby rowan:: See how this tree is self-sufficient? It relies only on itself, making use of what is around it to survive. So should it be with our feelings. Happiness and joy need not be dependent upon others. Toss away the things that bog you down, and you may be able to find joy here. . .

II Tiphareth II: ::As if on some whim, the actual purpose of which, if in fact there was one to begin with, known only to her intricate mind, Tiphareth chose just then to cause the immense set of extravagantly plumaged wings to erupt into view, and instantly from previously empty space there resided the appendages. Bent heavily at the center joint, they arched high over her head after bursting into being from the midst of a flurry of feathers. Black and white there coexisted in uniform amounts, the left wing was a pure alabaster, and right the stark raving opposite, deepest obsidian, the one radiating an almost heavenly sheen whilst the other drank the energies, and twisted them to a more evil nature, for the purposes of adding to the depth of it's shadow. It could be said that the odd pair of flying apparatuses were a living metaphor for the continual struggle harbored within the creature to find her balance somewhere between the two extremes of evil and good. A never ending cycle had ensued from the first moment they'd come into view; she wore proverbial yin and yang upon her back. One moderately small ivory feather worked it's way loose of the flesh it had budded from and flit haphazardly down before her, where she snatched it neatly from it's descent downward and twirled it idly by the quill, held between forefinger and thumb. Invisible eyes rested on his face for a moment, drawn away from the feather, and the view of unordinarily colored vessels of sight wasn't something that bothered her. Darrian, figure of the past though he may have become, had strange eyes himself, a mass of emerald, no pupils, whites, nothing but an all consuming iris, and cold inability to focus. She hadn't been upset at that, and so was neither was she upset here. She wasn't one to be accustomed to usual oculars, accordingly, her own were anything but, never endingly spilling their poison into the air before her, though only a tiny trickle of it survived the journey through the mask of black lurking before her face and obstructing any from catching a glimpse of the "wells". She wasn't disturbed by anything, so reserved in the expression of what, if anything, she was feeling. Listening quietly while he spoke, already formulating her retort before his jaws had ceased to move, the moment he had finished she began.:: The setting has it's importance in certain situations. In combat, for example, it serves me well to know my surroundings, and use that knowledge to my advantage. But, I am not one to have idle time enough to be able to take a break for the purpose of appreciating nature. The way you study over things may suit your own devices, and if it intensifies your powers of concentration, revel in the peaceful scenery all you like. I pour next to all my energy into analyzing the matter at hand, leaving none to be wasted on enjoying the view, as that does nothing for me. My attentions are much better spent elsewhere. Life overwhelms you if you let it, ::She paused a bit for emphasis:: Problems, compound and deteriorate the spirit only if it was weak enough to be chipped away at in the first place. Beautiful things cannot heal the woes of the world, though exist to mock them they most certainly can, and do. A calamity serious enough to adversely affect one such as I must be dealt with and resolved by the individual. These woods are useless to repair what ails me, that task is left to be completed by myself alone. Beauty and love may be the two greatest joys of your existence, but mine they are not. Victory, strength, honor, these are what I take pride in. Love, beauty, aren't things I've sworn off, I simply care for neither. Life turns to ill through the actions, shortcomings, ignorance and foolishness of mankind. If you dismiss past strifes for the greater good of starting anew, what then is there to remain, as memory of the sting, to ensure the same mistakes are not repeated? That tree, is not self sufficient. It depends on the sun, the rain, to keep itself alive. Were there a drought, it would wither and die. Dependency on others, is a weakness, and leads to the utter lack of happiness and joy. Attaining them through the sight of a young sapling, a moonlit stream... pointless. Perhaps joy is not something I am naive enough to chase anymore. Least of all, not here.

Typhuun: ::He gave long and thoughtful consideration to her words, analyzing them; thinking of the best possible reply which would both illustrate his thoughts and be unoffensive to her at the same time. After a few moments, he answered:: Of course the setting can do nothing on its own, and I never meant to suggest that it can. Rather, it is the mindset we can achieve when surrounded by such peacefulness that is beneficial. It is a sense of awe and wonder that I am unable to find in many other environments. Perhaps I speak of something you cannot relate to, and if I do, I apologize. ::He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing:: Victory, honor, courage. . . these things are grand, I will not deny that. But what good do they do outside the company of man? In solitude, a soldier’s honor will do him no good. And analyzing the matter at hand does no good when there is no matter to analyze. Everything has its proper place in one aspect of life or another, but there is no need to focus on only one of those aspects. I never meant to suggest that one should spend his whole life pondering over things of beauty. . . ::he chuckled to himself at the thought:: However, when one is in a setting where things of beauty can be appreciated, then I see no reason not to stop, at least for a moment, and take them in. Perhaps this is merely one of my quirks, but I find it to be quite soothing and refreshing. And as for becoming susceptible to the same mistakes time and time again, I would say that one can remember pain, and know to avoid such pain in the future, but without the need to dwell continuously upon it. For example, a child may burn his hand on a furnace. He will know not to touch the furnace again, but he will no longer feel the pain after a certain amount of time has passed. In the same way, one can achieve peace by pushing past sorrows out of one’s mind until the time comes to draw upon the lessons we can learn from these sorrows. But there is no need to continuously meditate upon them. Doing so will only consume you in the end. Perhaps you are strong enough to endure this, but as for me, I would not choose to meditate on sorrows.

II Tiphareth II: ::The feather, coming to a neat, cultivated point at the top, and billowing out in haphazard fluff at the base, about the quill, previously held and toyed with between fingers, was released suddenly by a flick of those same gloved digits, almost too quickly for the motion to be caught. It tumbled end over end towards the ground in a slow, chaotic descent. Wings were still arched dramatically overhead, perched there and poised regally, gently curling about her form with their sprawling tendrils of plumage. How curious that one so war hardened, so cold, and who existed within an indifferent attitude so meticulously kept, could appear to be so angelic. Ironic, perhaps, that the self same creature had served as a figurative angel of death for so countless many in days past. That was most likely more appropriate than any other angelic title. Stretching her legs out of their crossed positions, to extend them down toward the earth below, as if she were standing midair, Tiphareth pulled in a short breath and exhaled it soon after, in the very faintest of "steams", drawn into the visible spectrum by the chill beginning to possess the air before the space where her face remained as always, hidden. Masamune drifted fluidly to her left hand, and was held there, lax, though it did not cease to glow and hum. She could see quite clearly that this conversation could be a perpetual one, and likewise, an increasingly unpleasant one, if they continued to nitpick and dwell on their vastly differing opinions, but even then, she couldn't really help but to retort in the manner that most became her, firm, analytical, calculated.:: I think it close to the mark, that I cannot, or rather, I simply choose not to relate to such things, as the senses of wonder, and awe, that this setting can lend to a potentially peaceful mind set. That is not where any of my cares lie. You and I are very different creatures, no doubt, and our views of the world are similarly aligned. I doubt I have much capacity to properly appreciate nature. It was certainly not programmed nor conditioned into me. All that I am, is a soldier. Were every lesser aspect of me to be washed away, that would be all that remained. I was not born, but rather, superficially created, with that sole purpose in mind. I was "engineered", if you will, not to care about qualities, tendencies, generally applied to humanity. Sentimentality, sensitivity, everything of that sort, is frankly foreign to me. Furthermore, I was never one to stop myself to ponder whether the general populace bestowed any favor, or ill feeling, on what accomplishments I have made, what ideals I hold dear. Victory, honor, and courage were never anything in my mind, other than concepts, and senses of self, that I alone need recognize and revel in, which I do, on a regular basis. The company of men, is another concept foreign to me, and so what business would I have in taking pride in these aspects of self, if they were all three, worthless unless measured and counted in such company, as you imply? In solitude, a soldier's honor does him much good, in keeping him strong, in mind, will, and body. I never stated that there was an absence of anything specific to analyze. In my case, there most certainly are specific matters at hand which demand my full attentions, and concentration, so much so that I wave away the cares it would take away from them, were I to stop and appreciate the scenery. I never stated that it was imperative to focus one's mind solely on one subject at a time, but what harm comes of it, if I choose to do so? If the matter is enough to command that considerable a measure of my cognizance, why not lend all of my thoughts to it's contemplation? If I reach the sought after epiphany faster, by using such methods, I see no ill that can come from doing so. I most certainly hope that none would be so foolish as to waste a lifetime observing things of beauty. And, the tendency to stop from time to time, and take in such things as beauty, or the fabled peace that this environment lends, is not universal by any means. It may very well be one of your quirks, or it may be applicable to a great many number of species and creatures, but that quirk is most assuredly not indigenous to me. Speaking to me of such things in an effort to coerce me into sympathizing with, or appreciating your point of view, is positively pointless. I never stated that it was imperative that one dwell continuously upon pain, in order to keep the same mistake from repeating. I only expressed that if they are dismissed, then there would be nothing to remain, to warn against the same pain recurring. That child will not feel the immediate pang after the physical wound has healed, of course, but a metaphorical wound will linger much longer in his mind, and it is that, that guards him against touching the dangerous surface again. The memory of pain will save him from being hurt in such a way again. Likewise, my reminiscence of my sorrows guards me against being slighted by such things again. If I pushed them out of my mind, that would be the first step on the path to forgetting them, which would totally nullify and forsake the suffering I had already endured at their behest, were the forgotten ill choices to recur, as result of my pushing them out of my mind, and in turn forgetting them completely. Meditating on sorrows may consume you, but I am another matter. I am not expressly bothered by it, my mind is more than strong enough to endure the pangs. A greater sorrow is avoided, after all, by keeping these lesser strifes in my attention. ::She sighed quietly, taking in another breath soon after, and holding it in indefinitely::

Typhuun: ::He had never had any intention of carrying on a lengthy conversation on the differences in their views towards such things as beauty and inner peace. Indeed, he had long realized that such things were completely foreign to many beings. But her words startled him. Had he known nothing of the woman sitting before him, he would have accepted her words without question, but in the case of one whom he had previously known to be quite different; one whom he had known to have loved, who had loved both her husband and her children, he did not believe her words to be completely and utterly true. He had no doubt that at this point in time, such things as love and beauty meant nothing to Tiphareth, but he could not believe that they never had.:: Surely you are not honest to me or to yourself when you say that you have never taken pleasure in the company of others, or in love for that matter. Is there not living proof that such a pleasure did at one point exist? ::His emphasis of the word "living" made it clear he was referring to her son.:: Proof that underneath your armor and perpetually stoic expression there lies not an experiment, but a person? If you were truly a soldier and nothing more, I do not believe that would have loved as I know you to have loved at some point. The fact that you have forgotten those feelings does not negate their one-time existence. You may have been broken due to love, but to pretend that you have never loved at all and are incapable of such is akin to forswearing fire because at one point you were burned. To do so is to ignore the pleasures that fire, and similarly, love and other such emotions found in the company of man, can give.

II Tiphareth II: Did I say that never at any point in my existence have I taken any pleasure in the company of others? I thought I said doing such was foreign to me. Who indeed, is in the best position to judge whether that once warm person you saw, and this indifferent soldier you see now, is the genuine article? Whom better than myself can assess which of them is the true spirit of my own personality? How do you deem that love, when you hold only the details made evident to the onlooker? Do you know how that child came to be? Because your assumptions suggest to me that you do not, much like many other people. Even if what you assume was truth, do you mean to imply that there never has been a child born except were it of two people who loved each other? I should hope not. Do you know how that fleeting portion of my life, in which I appeared to love and be loved, and indeed to revel in that love, compares to that which came before, and that which followed? I do not mean to justify myself to you in any degree further than I have already. I can say nothing truer than that which preceded this. A soldier is all I ever was, and all I ever shall be. The period of "love", was a huge deviation from the norm, I can assure you of that much. That, was the breach of character, and I have rued it every day since. And as for my expression.. ::Here she chuckled softly, in anything but a warm or jovial manner. Icy laughter filtered down from somewhere beneath the cowl that had kept her face invisible for the past months:: How would you know of it..? ::She tilted the hooded head down to him a bit more, still hovering well above the ground.:: You assume too much. Do you really think me capable of being broken..?

Typhuun: I would think all creatures are capable of being broken. We can all pretend that we’re invincible, but I have never met one who truly is. I cannot believe that you are invulnerable to emotions. If you were truly a soldier and nothing more, and that period of time in which you appeared to be a person with feelings and emotions did not reflect who you really are, then how could that sensitive side have come into existance in the first place? There must have been a trigger event, and that trigger event proves that you are susceptible to emotions. Deviations do not simply occur. There must first be the potential to deviate, which proves that you were always more than a soldier. As for your expression, I merely judged what it must be based on your tone of voice and your words; forgive me if I misjudged it. Forgive me if I have made any incorrect assumptions, but I do not believe I have. Rather, I believe that you are making an attempt to deny the person you once were, most likely because you feel it would make you weaker to have ever actually been that person. I know not why you choose to do this, nor will I hazard a guess at this point, but that is my deduction, and I am prepared to be utterly humbled if I am wrong. ::He looked up into the darkness of her hooded face, trying to make out what lay beneath the enveloping shroud.::

II Tiphareth II: ::At that the soldier laughed quietly, again, as unorthodox and disturbing as the previous occasion of giving voice to her mirth, always triggered by what a well mannered creature would not deem amusing. Perhaps it was the irony she found a sick humor in, or perhaps what she was hearing was starkly so contrary to her own way of thinking that laughter was the first, immediate, and practically involuntary response. Of course, his curious eyes would be met solely with the chasm of matter over which the inky hood was haphazardly draped. Nothing could penetrate such blackness, and likewise, no creature would be able to see her face again, until she herself saw fit to make it known to the world once more. It wasn't that she expected anyone to comprehend or sympathize with her curiosities, truly, the enigma that was Tiphareth was only meant to be understood by the two lonely members of her species,and no more. Of course he knew too little of what he spoke to be correct. The tone of condescension was difficult to down play, and she chose not to pay it any mind, as the retort came yet again, well thought out, even though she had taken no time to pause, nor ponder on it, before she spoke.:: I must be the single most talented actress ever to have graced this pathetic realm with my presence. And as for being broken, thus far, I have not been, nor do I plan on it happening anytime in the vast and far reaching future. So I find that to be more than sufficient evidence to prove that this creature at least, may very well be incapable of ruin. Emotions, are simplistic sensitivities, ultimately weaknesses, easily learned and even more easily manipulated and portrayed, especially the warm variety. If I acted like an actual person, and not as a specimen of science, it was only specific means I chose to get closer to my desired goals. I care very little for who may have been duped in the process of my splendid performance, for the most part. That sensitive side was not real. But when questioned on the matter, everyone would swear that it was nothing short of the absolute truth. Obviously I have outdone myself, because when I finally choose to be real in the face of the public, only now do you stand in disbelief. Less than one short year was spent on my playing that role, and the time for it has long been at it's end. Think what you like of me, along with all the rest of these gullible beings. I have wasted all together too much of my time, and futilely so, it appears, in attempting to explain myself, or the fiber of my character. The night beckons me back to silent contemplation, and perhaps, as I carry on my way, I will revel in the darkness, and the chill, as these two aspects of nature, perhaps the only things of that sort worth appreciating, just happen to suit my fancy, and my manner. ::Without bothering to bid any more of a farewell than those last words, angry syllables spat from invisible lips, in a tongue entirely incomprehensible, save for in reference to her own knowledge of the alien language. The verse near hypnotic in the strangely ordered meter and alternating emphasis on the beats of her phrases, ended on a snarl of sorts, immediately after which, she went eerily silent, and another hissing had begun, this one wafting outwards on sound waves from the dull crackle of ebon flames suddenly erupting about her delicate feet, and swiftly consuming her figure. A fleeting last glimpse of which was visible, and she had not flinched nor made even one motion by the time, mere fractions of a second or two later, that the unholy flame had roared to heights well above her hidden head. The barrage of noise ended as quickly as it had ensued, fire disappearing with seemingly mocking snarls, ever decreasing in volume as the burning tendrils petered out to leave only barren empty space where Tiphareth had been oh so calmly levitating, so few short moments before.::