Considering this object was most certainly a lamppost, Sylar guessed the lighting must have been in fact better before he showed up. Being blind was sometimes a tad annoying, especially when even your new sense of sight didn't depend on visible light. "Oh, sorry about that." Sylar's words sounded a bit hollow, but he actually was apologizing, since this little encounter had been what ruined Ryden's light. Normal people depended so heavily on light in this world, Sylar wondered if perhaps his affinity for darkness was specifically to take advantage of that.

This man's power must be a pain in the normal world, a city like New York was basically all metal, glass, and concrete. Then Ryden pointed out Sylar's tail. "Some of us don't get to be people anymore." His words lacked any spite or venom, but the sentence alone still showed Sylar's disdain for his monstrous form. "Though I imagine breaking metal and glass is pretty frustrating living in New York." Sylar wasn't looking at Ryden anymore, but instead began to hack at the deer's carcass with his claws like a butcher going at a slab of beef. Real wild animals just ate whatever part of a kill they wanted, but Sylar was still human enough to prefer the better cuts of meat. The flesh and muscle of the back, the ribs, and the rear of an animal were the tastiest and healthiest protein for consumption. The organs, tended to get left behind, meaning Sylar' skills were often considered grisly.

Sorry... The statement sounded particularly odd from someone who had been snarling and trying to intimidate him moments before. But that wasn't completely unusual between mutants. It wasn't always rare for mentalities to change as soon as people realized they were from the same....species? Team? Whatever they were. The teens words though showed a lot of bitterness about his predicament. Ryden could only partially relate. He still looked mostly human, and as long as he didn't talk, he could usually maintain that illusion. Sylar really got no chance to be human. Although he could talk. That seemed like an advantage to the sound-mutant.

"Most my life is frustrating." Ryden shrugged. "I expect you know what that's like." He tried to be polite while Sylar ate. He respected the need for food, even if it happened to be raw meet. People at venison. This was just slightly on the rare side.

Sylar generally wasn't a person who apologized, or acted polite towards others to begin with. However with a fresh free meal before him, Sylar's human side was quite dominant right now. He carved his favorite chunks off the deer, setting them atop the animals carcass, though his attention didn't waver entirely from Ryden. "I assume most of us have frustrating lives." Sylar still believed a mutant like himself had it rougher than most, but he'd met plenty who didn't have it great either. "So you can break stuff with your mind? I've met a couple mutants who could explode stuff too." Sylar made idle conversation in between the gorey sounds of his jaws chomping away at meat.

Sylar was an odd creature, like a monster from a horror film, feasting upon a murdered animal and yet still just talking to Ryden like this was an entirely normal activity. Mutants were odd people, very odd. "Times like this I wish I still had a refrigerator." Sylar mumbled as he continued his grisly dinner.

Ryden was somewhat glad for the dim lighting. Watching someone butcher an animal wasn't something he found appetizing in the least. He glanced out at the streets, watching the cars go past instead. They were nothing but shadows back here, and he could only imagine the morbid sight this would be otherwise.

"I break things with my voice." A nearby piece of glass gave a firm twitch in emphasis, barely holding it's form this time. He chuckled slightly and it shattered. "Although explode is a close description." Crackkkk. It was going to be a long night it seemed. His headache continued to grow.

Scooting back towards where he had been sitting before, Ryden sank down onto the rock further away from the lamp post. At least here he should be out of range now, and maybe the breaking would subside a bit.    

As Sylar carved his dinner from the deer, Ryden explained his power. So by speaking he shattered thing? Now that was actually pretty inconvenient considering what city this was, even Sylar felt a pang of pitty for Ryden's power. He devoured a few chunks of meat, his teeth tearing the deer apart like a hot knife through butter. He didn't even think about how...grotesque this feeding might come off as towards a normal person, well a semi-normal person.

Ryden walked back over towards a large rock, sitting on it. Sylar said nothing, walking over behind the man, his claws silently sinking into the Earth and he moved, meaning he'd snuck up on Ryden again in a way. As he was right behind the man, whom was sighing possibly from the stress of this encounter, Sylar spoke up. "That ability...sounds very inconvenient." Sylar said emotionlessly. He'd eaten part of his kill, and carved up what remained to finish at some point tonight, but for now he'd come back to speaking with Ryden, an oddly gruesome image behind the mostly normal looking man. "My curse...isn't much fun either." He continued.

Ryden was starting to wish having powers dealing with sound gave him better hearing. The way Sylar snuck up was creepy at best, and he jumped slightly as the voice appeared behind him. "It is very inconvenient. Send a bleacher of my high school peers to the ground when I was in school. Breaking lights is mellow compared to that." He grimaced, but shrugged again. At least on the rock he wasn't breaking things needlessly. Maybe that's what he needed. To find some rock to live on where there was nothing for his voice to break.

He glanced back at the kid, the harsh silhouette of his features obscured, but glints of his scales and tail reflecting back. Ryden got the point. He watched the guy carve up the deer after all. He knew what type of behavior went along with that appearance. 'Fun' wasn't exactly a word to describe that lifestyle. Powerful, maybe. But not fun. "As unappealing as your powers may seem to some, I'd have to say there is probably some blessing in the fact they reside with you verses someone else. I have no idea what someone would do with that type of dicing power if they had a beef with the world..." Ryden mused quietly.

Sylar didn't smile as Ryden jumped a bit in surprise, but he did enjoy spooking people like that. A guilty pleasure as it were. Sylar's first brush with his power happened in school as well, though he simply threw a boy through a door and into the wall, not an entire bleacher. "Funny, I sent a boy flying through a door back in school myself." He muttered in response to the sentence. Sylar began to clean his claws, wiping them off against his tattered clothing, then licking them to test for remnants of blood. Blood clotted, created a sticky scabby mess if you didn't clean it off, a lesson he learned a year or so ago.

Sylar was unaware that Ryden was looking over his monstrous form, mostly because Sylar couldn't really tell when people were looking at him or not based on his vision, thermal images weren't very detailed with his unique eyes. Ryden spoke softly, mentioning how it was better for someone like Sylar to have such a dangerous form as opposed to someone else, which caused Sylar to respond grimly. "What makes you think I don't?" Sylar wasn't very happy about his life or the way the world had treated him so far, really all that held him back was a timid nature, and a fleeting respect for the fact that murder was still considered wrong even if you looked like a movie monster.

Sylar's abilities were a blessing considering they kept him alive, but that was a fleeting thought, considering the devolving nature of his mind. For now he was a Boogeyman, the Predator in the night that was talked about in whispers and tabloids. But eventually that monster would get real, and the nightmare would begin, for now though, everyone was safe...mostly. "Survival is more important than something like revenge or spite, but believe me, the police aren't too fond of me." Sylar spoke aloud.

Ryden managed to hold back his laugh only from practice, but the faint chuckle still slipped from his throat. With nothing around to break though, it wasn't a big problem, but it was probably more polite not to chuckle at Sylar's misfortune. The laugh was more from the irony someone shared an experience. "Who knew school could be so dangerous. One day you're hanging out then the local mutant decides to find their powers... Sometimes I understand why people are skittish about us." It was always hard to admit, but Ryden knew his powers could be dangerous. The wrong word at the wrong time would stop being funny and start being deadly. Now he could chuckle, but one day he might not be. Powers weren't always fun and games.

Ryden shrugged at Sylar's comments. "I think you have at least some level of control, or I would probably be filleted with your deer. Some mutants kill just to kill. I don't feel you're one of them. At least at this point you're not." He shrugged. It was just an observation, he could take it how he wanted to.

It was odd how the feeling of a night, of a single conversation could change so swiftly. To begin with a bloody attack, a stand off laced with fear, and end with two men simply speaking beneath the moon, all within half an hour. Sylar didn't think about it much though, considering this sort of event was somewhat common for him. What an odd life he lead, truly. Ryden pointed out how odd school could be for mutants, jokingly, to which Sylar actually agreed.
"You think bully's would be more careful when people can randomly explode your head, or catch the building on fire with their mind." In Sylar's case it was simply physical violence with a superhuman level of ability, but he was still quite sure he'd hurt his old nemesis pretty badly with that little shove years ago.

Sylar knew just as much as any other mutant, maybe more just how dangeorus he was, to himself and more importantly others. He however, was slowly starting to not feel guilt about his thoughts of injuring none mutants. Sylar, finished with his claws focused entirely on Ryden, staring at the man with his dead eyes. "Wolves generally don't murder one another, I've got no issue with my own kind. It's them I have issue with." Sylar was clearly refering to normal people with his words. "And I may be a monster, but murder doesn't really sound all that fun to me. I've enough police to deal with, I don't need swat teams and angry mobs on top of that." Sylar was curious though, if Ryden's power was as annoying as it sounded, how did he make a living among the normals?

"Speaking of which, how exactly to you stay with the normals? Wouldn't your voice power give you away pretty quick?" Sylar asked with little emotion, but actual curiosity.

Sylar had a point....People still had a way of bullying and acting out even when mutants were popping up all over the place. You'd think people would be more cautious, something like 'people are more than they appear' would stand out to them. But prejudice and judgmental thoughts didn't vanish just because people started throwing cars.

Sylar compared himself to a wolf, and that was simple enough sounding. Ryden shrugged though. "Wolves don't get bullied. Wolves don't watch people live simple, carefree lives while they fight to survive. Wolves get hunted, but not while they know if they fight back they could win. You have a lot of choices you still make. That's what can set you apart." It was the most he talked in a long time. He was probably talking more than he needed to at this point.

"As for staying hidden, I'm a writer. I write for the newspaper, do freelance projects. Don't need to talk much , and when I have to I've learned how to at least direct what I break, and keep my sentences short. I've broken a few wine glasses, but other than that it's been mostly annoying. Can't make a lot just writing, but it's better than nothing I guess." He glanced around the empty park, which definitely was not the easiest place to write.

Sylar had read alot back when he still could, not enough to contest Ryden's words about wolves, but still wondered about them. Wolves were once a top predator in this world, eventually pushed back and beaten down by man. Perhaps he had more in common with them than he had originally thought. "I make most of my choices based on my solitary life. I've no pack to depend on. Though I've found most mutants to be a far more kindred group than normal people are." Sylar had made more friends, and met more caring people in the mutant community than he ever had the normal people. He wondered why anyone would want to be like normal people were after seeing their true colors.

So Ryden was a professional write, an envious occupation Sylar would have once thought. But considering his status now, he didn't much care for writing, or reading. "Better than nothing is a lot more than nothing. Trust me." Sylar's own occupation was...sordid. A career criminal in the making so far, though robbing corner stores and mugging people for a cheese burger was a mostly non-violent career. "At least you can still pass for one of them, they don't break out guns and bats the moment they see you picking through the garbage cans." Sylar's life was getting better though, considering he'd met people who could feed him and offer him shelter when he asked for it, more if he'd just get over his fear of bonding. "I on the other hand..." He mumbled, staring at one of his claws, though he couldn't see it as well as anyone else could. The shape was still mostly human, and it gave off heat just like theirs.

But Sylar knew, the razor sharp claws, the armor that covered his flesh, all of it made him very inhuman. Perhaps that's why murdering animals and eating raw flesh stopped bothering him some time ago, even if he fought the changes, over time he still intermingled and merged with his mutation, adaptation was the only choice it seemed. "So the papers?" Sylar mused for a moment, remembering he'd heard before some people mentioned he was in them every so often. "I've heard people talk about a creature in Manhattan showing up in the papers. Ever seen one of those articles?" Sylar was curious if he really did have status as an urban legend like some of the teenagers and older people liked to discuss not knowing he could hear them from across the alley way like he was right in the room.

Ryden shrugged his shoulders at Sylar's words, and leaned back against the rock. "Honestly, can't say I've found that true, but maybe I'm not mutant enough to really be considered 'kindred'." He wondered what that would be like though. He'd heard of the mutant groups, and seen a few during the riots. But he just never felt 'mutant', not enough to take sides.

He was content. He wouldn't lie about that. His career was fairly stable and he wasn't being hunted like some mutants. Couldn't complain about that. Sylar definitely had that worse. "Guess if being kin means avoiding pitchforks and dodging bullets I can be ok without it though."[/b][/color] And silence. He was pretty doomed to spend time in silence.

"I've read a story a time or two. Maybe not as often considering the other chaos going on in the city. Urban legends don't get as much attention to mutants demolishing things topside." He admitted. He glanced at the kid again. It was a little piece to the puzzle about his life if he was somehow related to the articles. Sewer monster didn't sound like a great job to have.

Sylar guessed Ryden simply hadn't felt the persecution the rest of his kind had. Which was fine, after all Ryden still looked like a normal person. He didn't have the visible flags like Sylar or others had. "If you're a mutant, you're one of us. Shout that out around them, and you'd see what it's like." Sylar's words weren't spiteful or aggressive, he just knew what it was like to be the monster opposite the angry mob.

Sylar had never had a job, a career, or a normal human life, though he was younger than this man, and would have been far off from such a life himself, but he was still a bit envious. To live without fighting for simple existance, almost like a dream in Sylar's mind. Ryden mentioned he'd read stories, but paid more attention to the current news than anything else, which made sense. Sylar couldn't read anymore, and didn't really mind not reading, but the news was certainly an important facet of life. "I tend to avoid the spotlight when I can, being an unknown keeps the police off my back." Sylar explained. "I remember some time ago, when topside was truly crazy. Those riots were something I avoided and made use of." Sylar mused about the riots, an event he'd tried his best to stay out of. No need to give himself infamy by joining in those, when he had enough from his alien appearance and knack for burglary.

Sylar's tail swayed behind his form as he spoke, a subtle movement, like that of a cat when it was observing something interesting or out of the norm. The blade however ruined any animalistic image Sylar had besides that of a monstrous scorpion or alien creature. "I don't come to the park often myself, are you here alot to write in peace?" He asked, maintaining his curiosity in the conversation for now.

Ryden wasn't sure there was much appealing about branding yourself with a scarlet letter, letter 'Mutant'.... Kinship wasn't worth that. At least, not that he had seen. But the idea was there. He could be mutant enough if he wanted to. Especially once he started talking. Easy to prove, hard to keep secret. For the moment it was probably easier to focus on the later though.

"I was out of town when the riots went down. Was doing an article out of the city, didn't expect to come back and see everything trashed. But I guess it was better not to be involved in it. Someone jumps me and I yell, could break a car door in half..." He remarked with a shrug. "And yeah, I like being in the park. Maybe I don't get much writing done, but not having to worry about what I'll break is nice. Not many other places in this city though that lack glass and metal. You don't realize how much of it is out there until you get stuck with powers like mine." He said, glancing back at the lamp. He should probably pay for that...

If Sylar could have lived with an easily concealable mutation, he probably would have as well. He was envious that many mutants still looked normal, but you can't change what you are, so he'd deal with it like he had been. Ryden it seemed had also lucked out to be away from New York during the riots, a serious event in recent history. "I was here during the riots...just out of sight. I'm quite good at it actually." Sylar bragged a bit about his knack for hiding, his small frame and dark colors meant the night was like a warm blanket, protecting him from the cold reality of regular man's world.

Ryden did point out that he was lucky, if he ended up attacked his power would become very obvious when he screamed or cried out in pain. Perhaps Ryden's ability to remain hidden would only last so long in a city filled with many unseen dangers. "Careful not to get mugged then Ryden." Sylar said with a hollow voice, letting his words convey the message that Ryden's mutant status could come out at any time. Mugging just happened to be a fairly common violent crime in the city, and the easiest way for a normie to catch a glimpse of the man's explosive voice.

Sylar actually enjoyed the park as well, while he was quite comfortable underground after a few years down there, having actual nature around him seemed to soothe the animal inside him. Perhaps someday when his mind was gone, he'd simply fade into the wilds somewhere and leave behind the world of man and mutant. Sylar was a creature designed for hunting in the urban jungle, and though he couldn't see much of it, he was aware just how unnatural New York was compared to this little oasis. "I'll agree it's nice here. The feel of actual dirt beneath your feet is much better than all the concrete and pavement." The lack of ambient heat sources also meant Sylar's vision in the park was less intense on his eyes, only a few images filling a world of blues and grays, though he didn't know exactly what the colors he saw were, since he'd never known color in his life. "So what're you writing anyways?" He asked idly as the conversation steered away from the mutant talk.