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Description
Maeve:
     Define complete filth. No, don't go for your dictionaries, your thesauri, your words. Reach for your camera and reach for your paints, and define complete filth to me. Rack your brain for all that it's worth (or all that it isn't), because a mind should be priceless, and its filth indescribable.

Deirdre:
     "Your filth doesn't scare me, even as thick, oily liquid flows down the back of your neck, consuming the skin, leaving bones in its wake. I am unafraid of what is to come, all the blades, all the excuses, all the unborn things, all the accusations. I am unfazed by your sneer. I am not disrupted by your calculating eye. I am not wrapped around your simple words, which tell me my size, my color, my mannerisms, my name, my purpose. I am not bound to your ignorance. I do not belong in the realm of your study, in the hills of your thought, in the land of your dissonance and disagreeability. I am unimpressed with your abilities and how they affect your own world. I am not trying to impress you either. I am unconcerned with your health and your needs, and I am not yearning for you to offer that in return. I am unsurprised with the conculsions you happen upon. I am not denying you, and I am not ignoring you."

Maeve:
     I am, simply, aware. Aware, and nothing more, of your filth.

Damaris:
     "Taste it, and tell me you don't like it. I am not going to believe you. That should be everyone's purpose in life, and whether they accomplish it or not, I am not pondering. Tell me, will you cull for the answer? Or do you believe that denying the purpose is the real purpose?! Define filth to me. That is your purpose. I will be impressed, I will be concerned, I will be surprised, when you knock me off my ass and define filth."

Maeve, Deirdre, Damaris (Unison):
     "But I won't, necessarily, believe you."

Description
Maeve:
     Define complete filth. No, don't go for your dictionaries, your thesauri, your words. Reach for your camera and reach for your paints, and define complete filth to me. Rack your brain for all that it's worth (or all that it isn't), because a mind should be priceless, and its filth indescribable.

Deirdre:
     "Your filth doesn't scare me, even as thick, oily liquid flows down the back of your neck, consuming the skin, leaving bones in its wake. I am unafraid of what is to come, all the blades, all the excuses, all the unborn things, all the accusations. I am unfazed by your sneer. I am not disrupted by your calculating eye. I am not wrapped around your simple words, which tell me my size, my color, my mannerisms, my name, my purpose. I am not bound to your ignorance. I do not belong in the realm of your study, in the hills of your thought, in the land of your dissonance and disagreeability. I am unimpressed with your abilities and how they affect your own world. I am not trying to impress you either. I am unconcerned with your health and your needs, and I am not yearning for you to offer that in return. I am unsurprised with the conculsions you happen upon. I am not denying you, and I am not ignoring you."

Maeve:
     I am, simply, aware. Aware, and nothing more, of your filth.

Damaris:
     "Taste it, and tell me you don't like it. I am not going to believe you. That should be everyone's purpose in life, and whether they accomplish it or not, I am not pondering. Tell me, will you cull for the answer? Or do you believe that denying the purpose is the real purpose?! Define filth to me. That is your purpose. I will be impressed, I will be concerned, I will be surprised, when you knock me off my ass and define filth."

Maeve, Deirdre, Damaris (Unison):
     "But I won't, necessarily, believe you."