"We aren't the Storm. What you are feeling right now is part of being alive, we don't deny that. Unlike some." The man shakes his head, not at Matt that is obvious, but at the other Tribes.
"What we are is focused. Now." A hand does raises for a second before falling and the man resumes walking. "That's not to say that some of us don't take on grand obligations, quests if I'm up on the new lingo you're generation took from the ones long dead. There are some who do but most of us focus in. We Hunt. That is what we are."
He grins. "Here. Now. This is what I do. This is my Hunt, my devotion to the Black." A hand rises again and a finger extends before the man decides not to push his luck by poking Matt in the chest.
"So then if you can't tear apart everyone whose being an asshole, and trust me that's the world, what is Sacred to you? See that's the thing, its what you consider Sacred. What is something to you that's inviolate but tangible still? It doesn't have to be something permanent or that will last for ever. I know one of us who considers a frozen lake way up north to be Sacred. During the warm months he doesn't really care what happens to it as long as no one pollutes it, just common sense there. But during the winter? That is the most pristine frozen lake you have ever set your eyes on."