Cazador leaned his cheek on his fist, one leg bent beneath himself as he sat on the simple wooden chair some distance from Seraphiel who was standing by the room's window. It's been a short while since Vellioth's demise and Cazador hoped he'd manage to recollect himself before going to see Seraphiel, restore some amount of of regality to himself or at the very least will himself to appear more confident than he ever was under Vellioth, but something about being with Seraphiel in the same room made Cazador shrink in his place and act much like he did when he groveled at Vellioth's feet – Small. Anxious. Doing everything in his power not to call any attention to himself while his crimson eyes were transfixed on the older vampire's back.

Resisting the urge to nervously bite on the pointed claw of his little finger Cazador willed himself to say what's been stuck in his throat since the very moment he darkened Seraphiel's door at the inn. The very same two words that have been repeating over and over in Cazador's head since Vellioth made him his. Cazador swallowed hard before he spoke next.

"I'm scared."

Seraphiel didn't reply immediately but there was a stillness to him that suggested he acknowledged Cazador's word, however quietly they were uttered. He didn't tear his gaze away from the empty street outside the window but something in him shifted as he carefully considered his response.

"Fear is the mother of all gods," Seraphiel sighed heavily. "You pray.... You beg.... You tell yourself there is a plan. A purpose. A justice beyond what you see. But the truth is simpler."

Cazador straightened his back once Seraphiel turned to face him now, mesmerized by the ancient's deep, languid voice. Seraphiel looked at Cazador with an expression that wordlessly asked the latter to listen very closely to what he was about to say next.

"The universe does not care. It did not make you, it will not save you. It will not even notice when you are gone. We're all born into a world of chance." Seraphiel inhaled deeply, filling his corrupted lungs with air before sighing again, taking a few steps away from the window to approach Cazador who was seated away from any light source save for a crackling hearth. He was almost entirely obscured by shadow, as if that's where he felt safest.

Seraphiel continued. "Men build temples to hide from their own insignificance. They invent laws to make the chaos feel ordered. But beyond their illusions," Seraphiel gestured with his hand in a broad arch, then sharply snapped his fingers, which made Cazador blink and flinch slightly.

"The atoms drift, the stars collapse, the world turns to dust...." Seraphiel stopped in front of Cazador, towering over him. He did not make any effort to bend down to be on Cazador's eye level and Cazador was both frightened and aroused by the sheer difference in their size.

"What remains? Nothing but motion. And the brief flicker of our own minds, grasping at meaning where there is none."

Seraphiel silently eyed Cazador for several long moments as if assessing Cazador's ability to understand what he is attempting to convey. Just when Cazador was about to open his mouth to ask a question, Seraphiel silenced him with a slightly raised placating hand.

"Live, if you must, but do not lie to yourself. Because the void is watching.... And it is silent."