Constant was the flow of time, like the greatest of rivers that cut through the earth and gave the canyons embroidered into the land their very shape, just as the seemingly soft zephyrs which shifted across the world would carve away at the hardest of stone until it was molded and changed beyond all recognition from decades before in a silent and perhaps even stealthy display of pure power that could not be challenged or overcome. Not too unlike the ever-changing tides of the ocean as the moon played and pulled on its sometimes calm and sometimes wrathful currents, there were moments where it seemed to slow almost to a complete stand-still while in other instances one would feel as though it moved much too fast, taking mere moments and giving the sensation that hours or days, maybe even weeks or months had passed. In a single moment, everything could go from feeling as though an eternity would pass in nothing but a single and fleeting blink of one's eyes only for the next moment to come to such a screeching halt that it was almost as if Father Time had suddenly and by some unnatural force been frozen, brought to such a quiet stillness that it took years for only a single soft breath to leave one's lips before they might dare to draw another. It was a curious thing how time, the one most inevitable force of the world could affect the mind, body, and soul in such a profound way even when those felt shifts from slow and steady to the speed of light were nothing more than an illusion. While both the natural and supernatural coincided with one another, one part torn between believing in the other and denying the very real existence, both were incapable of defying the very thing that needed no one being. The effects that it had on some could be vastly different on what it might inflict upon others, this much was true. Immortal beings, bodies and minds immune to the apparent wears that would inevitably befall those not nearly as fortunate - or unfortunate - might seem to be entirely untouched by the forever shifting element cast upon this world and those in it, but were they truly so unmoved? The sun would still rise in the east and fall beyond the far-off horizon to the west. Days and nights, they would still come and go. The seasons would still shift as the planet turned and rotated on its axis. The world would continue to change around them, and in the golden-hazel eyes of the were, to walk an eternity across this mortal existence was hardly a gift or a blessing. To Roman, a life eternal would be a curse, the worst and most wicked of punishments for sins committed or misfortunes so cruelly dealt upon any one soul, condemned to watch as all they ever knew or loved would eventually surrender to the very thing they could not no matter how much they might desperately want to.

Unknowns were just another part of this life that all living â€" and undead â€" beings walked through, but what the were found difficult to fully understand was that sense of fear that would creep into the minds of others and still them in such a way that they would cling to the only things that they did know to be a certainty. They would not take that chance to see but one small piece of the world that they'd never before seen or experienced. Even those that did take that chance, seize each and every opportunity that came their way simply because they craved to know more about the world, wanted with a near ravenous hunger to reveal the secrets of life and what lay beyond it, would always come to find that they would never know everything. No one could ever know everything, the deepest and most intricate workings of the universe. No one could truly say what rested beyond this life, after purgatory if such a thing existed. He'd heard of witches capable of seeing spirits of those that have passed on from their mortal bodies only to wander the middle realm between life and the afterlife, and Roman did not question those with such powers to sense those that could not be seen. In truth, Roman was a soul that believed in a life beyond this one, that what one did in this life would surely echo on into eternity, even when they themselves were no longer there. But, this was only one of many beliefs that colored this world. Some chose to believe that there was only nothingness, a black oblivion of cold nothingness that waited on the other side. Others believed in paradise, where loved ones were reunited, a place where there was no pain or sickness, where an old soul was given back their youth for the rest of eternity. So many argued what would come next once a soul was done here in this mortal world, and none would know the answer. Even if the answer were to somehow be made known, there was little faith the were held in his heart that the world would even recognize it to be true. That was how it was with many things, so many refusing a clear and obvious truth out of pure and ignorant defiance. It went without saying that there was a cause and effect to practically everything one did and did not do. One could choose to stay where they were, refuse to take that path less traveled as they lingered almost feverishly to their day to day routines. Even those who did their best to avoid change, to keep the figurative door closed tightly so that they could remain as they were, did not realize that in merely deciding to try and defy the inevitable was a choice all the same. Choosing to do nothing was still a choice all the same, and there would be an effect because of it. There simply wasn't any way around that which could not be fought against.

Roman was never one to fear the unknown and the unpredictable. Instead, he embraced it. There was a thrill, a rush in taking the plunge so many shied away from. Was it reckless? Not always, but most times it could be, but that was the beauty and the temptation of it. Taking chances and taking risks did not always have to mean that one would charge into the shadows without so much as a conscious decision on what they would do should the worst be waiting. Stepping onto that unmarked path did not mean being blind to what there was to be seen before one traveled beyond the point of no return. Truthfully, if one were to hesitate for only a single moment to weigh the options, to muse the possibilities which could rest at every twist and turn, every fork in the road instead of simply running into things without so much as trying to watch their step, then that sense of formidability would likely lessen. One did not simply tread over a mile's worth of jagged mountains without wondering if perhaps the gentle trail alongside a gently flowing river might prove to hold more worth, more of whatever it was that they sought. Roman, he sought nothing in particular. The vagabond had no grand destination that he was traveling towards, no treasure that he was seeking. Within those golden-hazel eyes, there was no map where "x" marked the place he was going. Rather, his was a blank canvas that the were painted as he went along, as he awoke each day to endure the trails that the fates would place before him that would take him to wherever it was his chosen path would lead. Only when he would reach the end of that day, when the sun would cast its dying light of brilliant golds and pink across the heavens before darkness draped itself over the world would he stop and paint the path he'd taken. Not many lived the way that he did, with their gaze searching the distant horizon far beyond what the eyes could see only to wonder what might lay beyond that. Few traveled through life without maps or compasses, without destinations that, when reached, they would finally be where it was they believed they were meant to be. Roman took each and every day as a gift, never expecting that he would be see the light of tomorrow as if it was owed to him. He would look back, the way that he'd come, and find in his heart a gratefulness for all that he'd been given the chance to taste, feel, and see. Tomorrow was never a promised thing, and so he regarded every sunrise with awe in his heart because it very well could be the last one his eyes would ever see, that weak warmth of dawn's first light the last time his skin would be touched in such a gentle way, and he watched each sunset with appreciation for what he had been given. Even when there was no warm, no bright and brilliant color as the dreary cold and cloud covering of winter would steal away the sun, he would find within himself what it seemed few wielded; the ability to understand that everything the day would bring may never come again, and in turn every moment had that chance of being one's last.

Perhaps, had the were been the type to stop and think, he might have hesitated instead of running over to stand between the woman and the car. Ah, but that was not how he was. This was an instance where his recklessness came rushing forth and he didn't stop to ask questions. He was not capable of predicting the future, nor was he capable of looking into the thoughts or minds of others to see if she knew of the danger she was in. Surely, she had to? What was she doing there in the first place? These were all questions that did not cross his mind until he was already there between her and the headlights, hands raised as he bellowed in deep baritones for the driver to stop. And thankfully, the individual behind the wheel did, though not without making his discontentment clear. Roman hardly gave the man another moment of his attention though, much more concerned about the woman than an ill-tempered being seemingly incapable of paying attention to his surroundings. He helps her up, not thinking to consider if she could or couldn't without his assistance, knowing only in that moment that they needed to remove themselves from the center of the street. She is disoriented but capable of standing as she follows him to the paved sidewalk. Mere seconds after the drives speeds away and she is safe, the woman with pale locks moves to pry herself from him and yet such was hardly necessary as he readily lets her place whatever distance she wanted between them. She answers his question simply, and there is a gentle ease of relief that finds Roman then, lips moving to offer a gentle smile despite the shakiness of her voice. She hesitates for a moment as she begins to speak again, sterling gaze lingering almost warily upon him for a moment as she tucks a stray piece of her hair back into place before thanking him, the were simply offering her that gentle grin."There's no need to thank me, miss. I'm just glad you're not hurt", he answers in calm tenor tones. She was clearly a shy creature, or perhaps she was still shaking off what had happened only minutes ago. Almost to his surprise, she offers him her slender hand, murmuring softly her name and he takes her own hand in his, shaking it softly, that genuine warmth still playing upon his chiseled features."I'm Roman. It's nice to meet you, Columbia", he answers her easily. Releasing her hand after a moment, he watches her for a moment. A part of him wanted to ask her what had placed her there on the cold pavement of the street, but thinking that such a place would be the last thing she would wish to talk about, he decides on something more neutral."I was just out for a walk, I'd be happy to walk with you to wherever you might be headed?", he offers courteously, that warm smile lingering still. While he wasn't the most social of beings himself, that didn't mean he would offer to accompany so that he knew she would be safe. After all, wandering the city streets at night alone could prove to be dangerous, especially for a beautiful creature such as Columbia.