Jolan got lost in thought. There was such things as innocent vampires. A little girl raised by the priests had turned out to be a vampire. Five hundred of those slays were of the clan that killed everyone he had ever known. Who had set the church ablaze. Who had killed one of their own simply because she was raised by priests. There had been no mercy or innocence in that clan. They had all been cold blooded killers for not a one had stood up for that child. Not one of them took her in as their own. They killed her along with all the rest. Those killings he had prayed for atonement for. He was not a proud slayer. He did not always enjoy what he did. It was his way of life. It is what he had always known. It did not mean he felt he was always doing the right thing. To say he did would be a lie. Marks were the ones he went after. There had been a few instances where a mark did not attack him on sight...he hadnâ€™t slain those. That had been few and far between. He knew there was such things as innocent vampires. There was such things as good vampires. It was just his job to take out the ones who werenâ€™t.<br/><br/>He looked at her. â€œYes it is Cheri. For every killing it is another sin upon my soul. Another life I have taken that I must repent for. That I must pray for. I am not a proud slayer. Doing what I do brings no sense of joy. It is what I was raised to do. It is what I am trained to do. It is a way of life. Unlike most slayers that number brings me no joy. No sense of happiness. There is always the what ifs. Such a high number merely reminds me of how many sins I must repent for. How many blood stains I have upon my soul. I pray for them...the ones I have slain. I pray for my own soul. I will most likely rot in hell for the deaths I have caused. If that is the case then so be it.â€ He smiled a sad smile. â€œStill this is a game and not a philosophical conversation. I was merely agreeing it was a high number for someone of my age. I am the best according to the slayers or the worst according to vampires. Two sides of the same coin. They are both true I suppose.â€<br/><br/>He didnâ€™t care other than the stains he felt upon his soul. Particularly when the slaying left a bitter taste in his mouth. Those were the times he wondered if he had really done the right thing. At this point it was indeed doubtful he would change. How do you go against something you were brought up to do? He knew if he did change... If he did become a protector of innocent vampires... He would become no better than those he slayed. The hunter...would become the hunted. Damned if you do. Damned if you donâ€™t. A double edged sword. Maybe in time he would change. Maybe in time he would care that he was neck deep in vampire blood. At the moment he didnâ€™t. Would it stay that way was completely undeterminable.<br/><br/>He looked at her. â€œThey are probably still alive. If they are one of those who donâ€™t draw attention to themselves it is highly likely they are alive. Even though most slayers are prejudice and hate all vampries, innocent or not, they usually donâ€™t actively investigate if someone is a vampire or not. I have noted most slayers go for the ones who actively have revealed themselves as a vampire. Made themselves a target so to speak.â€ He looked at the ceiling. He was certain her siblings were alive. If they were cautious and careful they would be alive. Probably even hiding in plain sight. It had been known to happen before.<br/><br/>He blinked as she started speaking again. He rolled his eyes and made a face as he registered her first comment. Was she really going to go there? He couldnâ€™t truthfully deny what she was saying either. She did sexually appeal to him. He looked at her rather caught off guard by the straightforwardness of the question. Well two could play at that game. He would answer and then ask virtually the same question. â€œI do not like the scrawny twigs that I could break in half merely by wrapping an arm around them. I do not like the thin supposably model types. I prefer the type of woman who has meat on her bones. More particularly who has curves in all the right places. Something I can wrap my arms around without having to worry about hurting her. I love when a woman has breasts that are round and full. Ones I can cup with my hands and there still be soft flesh to touch. A woman with a filled out figure and curves in all the right places appeal to me more than a skinny woman who is shaped like a twig and probably would break like one too. Sure one like that is good for a quick roll in the hay but they donâ€™t sexually appeal to me.â€<br/><br/>He closed his eyes as he thought on personality. â€œSomeone who isnâ€™t as serious as me. Someone playful and lively. A woman who can be serious but can also be quite the opposite. Someone who would be devoted and loyal yet be able to keep me on my toes. Put me in my place if I step out of line or go too far. A fiesty woman whose spirit holds fire and spirit. Not someone who will be meek and docile all the time. A woman who is true to who she is. Someone who has a personality that both challenges me and draws me in. Intelligent and knows what she wants. Someone who doesnâ€™t give up and stays true to what she believes in. A woman who is not ashamed to lean on someoneâ€™s shoulder when they need to have a shoulder to cry on.â€ He shook his head. â€œSince we are on the subject.â€ He smirked. â€œWhat sort of men do you like? As in appearance and personality?â€ He asked as he smirked quite a bit. Hey. She was the one who started this line of conversation. Turnabout was fair play.