[color=gray][b]Jason Alexander[/b][/color] Things were too damn noisy. I'll start the way I always do: Blunt and To the Point. I will hold nothing back nor twist anything's course. My style of magic is illusionism— I'm more than capable of fufilling any quota on dishonesty through that alone. Therefore, I don't need corrective lenses put upon how I see things like everyone else. Compared to 97.5%, or thirty-nine of every forty people here, I am bereft of such shackling in my presentation. The ultimate example of freedom of speech and expression can be found here. Whether you like it, or not. Take it or leave it here, because that's what you'll get out of me. Now, onto the immediate topic: I hate people. To wit: It's not that I hate every person. Such a claim would be absurd in a world populated by the billions I never have, never will, and never cared to meet. There are a few persons I am fond of: Such as my sister. A fifteen-year-old with a precocious savvy and insight into my own personal enlightenment. She gets me, and she loves me unconditionally. What kind of big brother wouldn't love her back with all the honesty in his heart? Certainly not me. I don't have the guts to be so callous. There are even persons whose presence and company I have learned to tolerate: One Lux Harken. The Heads to my Tails, the Yin to my Yang, and the Light to my Dark. He is my opposite in essentially every manner you could think of— And in a way, he is my equal. We travel together, out of necessity, of course, seeing as the road is long, hard, and unforgiving of even a moment of weakness. He and I disagree on a lot of things. We probably hate eachother, to be honest. But even so, whether we like it or not, we have eachother's backs. Because we have to. Anyways, no. "I hate people" does not mean I hold hate in my heart for every person, or even a general blanket hate for the population that you need to chip away at to gain my affection. I'm not some shitty two-bit store-brand tsundere or kuudere. Give me credit when it's due. I mean I hate "people": The nebulous, formless, ill-defined name for society. For normalness. For social hierarchies. "People" isn't something that is worth loving. People tread upon you in their climb upward, people pull you down to their level or below when you achieve, people sacrifice your life and livelihood for the sake of their own. People lie, people cheat, people steal, and people who are loved by other people are probably in some fashion a liar, cheater, or thief. If not, then they are loved because they are useful. What can you do for me? What have you done for me lately? People love wrapping other people around their thumb, too. "People" is a pack of wolves. Fitting, considering what social creatures we humans are. There are parallels throughout the animal kingdom in any animal society. Carnivores have our social hierarchies. Any alpha gets the lion's share of the wealth an prosperity, only leaving what they cannot physically stomach for the betas to eat. The process continues down the line, and those who are left are reduced to gnawing upon bone, hoping for a scrap. From the betas on down, the lower strata of the pack also carry the burden of their failures to the end of the line. Herbivores have our willingness to sacrifice eachother, to save ourselves. They feel neither guilt nor shame in leaving their old, their weak, or their sickly behind to pre-occupy the oncoming carnivores— better they than oneself. Even their young, they only give a token amount of protection towards. Additionally, they have our "herd mentality", although since we're a bit more enlightened than filthy beasts the common phrase is "mob mentality". They mindlessly follow whomever is in front of the crowd, while those individuals equally mindlessly respond to the surge of everything behind them, resulting in an aimless stampede driven by whims, emotions, and never logic. Again, fitting: We humans are omnivorous. It stands to reason that since we both play predator and prey, eat both what we kill and what we take, that we adopt the traditions of both societies as well. In this great metaphor, I suppose it makes me the lone wolf. Not that it's all it's cracked up to be. A lone wolf isn't some badass who was too tough to rely upon his fellows, or was so capable they have no need for a pack. No. The Lone Wolf is a Stray Dog in fancy dressing. He has either lost or been kicked out of his pack, and is forcibly alone against the world because he does not fit, and is not accepted or accommodated anywhere. That's where society has greatly erred in it's romanticizing of the lone wolf. If you must be solitary, be something that is naturally solitary. That is supposed to be solitary. That truly does have no need for others, aside from the token understood exception of passing on its genes. That's why I don't wish to be a lone wolf. Why would I? I would much rather be a bear. A bear has no need for packs, and doesn't hold any delusions of them benefiting the individual when weighing pros and cons as a whole. It is strong on it's own. I would much prefer that solitary path. Unfortunately, though, I must play the wolf. An Omega, clinging to a small pack not out of desire, but out of need. True foolhardiness is traveling alone, when you're a normal person like me— that is to say, normal in capability. I am not a fool. Having quietly tailed Lux at a small distance in this city, choked with tourists in the wake of the Grand Magic Games and just as dank and dirty and cacophonous as you like, I noticed him stopping to confront a strange scene head-on, as he always does. Well, with his charisma, it's probably best I leave it to him and let him play his strengths. He could negotiate and gather information, while I concerned myself with collating the data and considering my next move. [color=gray][i]Ascetic Arts:[indent](The 108 Skills of A Loner):[/indent][indent][indent]Observational Technique: People-Watching.[/indent][/indent][/i][/color] Finding a nearby bench, I wearily plopped myself down and gazed their way, looking for all the world with my slumped posture and "dead-fish eyes" to simply be somebody trying to rest. Which, of course, I was. I hated having to walk so much, and we had just finished lunch. He of all people, being in such stellar shape with that training regimen of his, should know that if you exercised too much on a full stomach, someone would end up seeing what their lunch looked like after mastication and the beginnings of digestion. What insensitivity, Harken. How very like your type.