"We have all been told the stories; lead to believe that we are great and kind beings; Told to believe that people want peace; Yet all I have witnessed of my fellow man is hatred from weak kings; Whom control peasants who do not know their own strength..." Ember paused in his spoken poetry, thinking of the next lines for his private thoughts. He turned in a circle, observing the surrounding alley way he was standing in. It was dark, and rather cold back here, only a few stars visible in the sliver of sky overhead. He had stumbled upon this place more by accident, but it was largely hidden from the main streets and secluded from the majority of the populace. A good place for the child to hide away from the prying eyes of the world, and release the pent up feelings he hides inside him in peace.

Ember may be jaded, angry and convinced of humanities cruelty, Yet he has been unable to shake the desire to have someone to trust, that perhaps what he has witnessed isn't universal. He believes that others will only let you down and hurt you more than if you hid your heart away, yet he was lonely, sad, and maybe even a little bit sad.

 He then repeated his previous lines, but adding more this time, even a hint of sadness edging his voice as he spoke, his eyes searching the sky as if searching for some sort of answer in the strip of sky over head, turning in a slow circle as he spoke, "But now I see outstretched hands and hear words of kindness; but all the child chooses to see is deceit..." Pausing again, Ember muttered to himself in frustration for not being able to find the right words. He continued these actions, changing lines, restarting with something new, sometimes more metaphorical, sometimes direct. He was almost oblivious to his surroundings, his own voice echoing through the alley effectively masked other sounds that he would normally catch onto. Finally he suddenly muttered to himself, "Dammit, I need to get a notebook for this."

In New York, a city that was always on the move, it was easy to loose track of time. Ryden found it was moving more quickly than normal lately, and only recently was there a comfortable lull he could relax in. Busy with work, writing, and the general chaos of living in a mutant hub, Ryden found little time to just be by himself. With powers like his, it was even more challenging to get to a quiet place to think, without having to worry about someone walking up to him.

It was even more difficult when all the good hiding places were taken.

As Ryden walked towards a more secluded area, he slowed slightly and blinked as a voice carried to where he was standing. The words themselves were what caught his attention and made him pause and watch the person who was reciting. Had he been a more vocal person, he would have perhaps offered a scrap of paper or something else more polite. As it was, he probably just looked odd just standing and listening, debating whether to keep walking.

He probably should have kept walking...