Monologue of an immortal.
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Posted by PostMortemCreamPi on: 03:29 AM, 04/ 6/20
     She came to me as I knew she would. With venom in her blood and hatred in her breath. Each word she spoke was a sharp jab, but they where shallow cuts. I had been called many things, much worse than what she could articulate.
     I silenced her swiftly with a grand gesture, she was not to get the better of me. I had centuries of life over this girl, and I would not tolerated her insolence. I had more pressing matters than her “feelings”. She would come in time to see the gift I gave her, the gift of immortality.
     Though like many others she would grow to resent the gift, even curse it. Just like I had time and time again. However there could be no doubt in the preciousness of what had been given to her. Many had walked on deaths door and begged for a way, any way to overcome it.
    But now I had grown bored with her, so I cast a cold iron dagger down to her. A test, she would either try to take my life; or her own. With no avail. Though it might have some effect, the wound would subside, and leave little more than a mark on her ashen flesh.
     If she takes no action, then perhaps there may still be hope for her. She could learn to use the gift, and might even grow stronger than those who had been in her situation before. Perhaps she may even begin to relish in the newfound freedom of immortality. Freedom to do as you pleased, minus a few small things.
    Like never being able to feel the warmth of the sun without risk of it setting one ablaze. Never being able to sit and watch the fire orb rise above a hillside. Never being able to see it set.