they argued my right to ascension

The look of wonder that seems to spread across the unholy creatures face is hardly a look the man has not seen before, his ever-youthful appearance no small source of wonder to far more than merely she over the many years he has existed. For a moment he merely lets her have her reaction, allowing her mind, perhaps, to come to terms with the fact that in time she too may well have reached this same point of utter un-interest in the world around her. After all, eventually....she will have seen it all, done it all, tried, tasted and felt it all and then what is there? When you have seen the world what else is there? History merely repeats itself over and over and she, just as he, is doomed to merely continue to cycle through that loop that seems ever-changing and yet ultimately fails to produce anything or anyone new or different. If she was lucky, perhaps, she would see such inventions as he had, colour TV, computers, internet and motorized tie racks and maybe for awhile she would wonder at them, feel privileged to have lived long enough to see them and yet, he is sure...there is a reason we each only have one lifetime. There is only supposed to be one, just one, so that every day is precious and new and exciting and the world never grows boring. He has lived his lifetime- and face the possibility of countless more. Maybe he is bitter, cynical, maybe he is colder then even he should be and yet to whom has the right to tell him to feel any different? He had been happy, once, with his lot- with his life. He had never wanted anything more and this girl merely reminds him, he supposes- of himself....once. Maybe that is why he simply cannot bring himself to bring her any harm tonight. Why not let her waste away whatever shreds of humanity she has left before she becomes a bloodthirsty creature that barely remembers sunlight? He will come for her then- if only to look upon her and remember what she once had been.

They all ended up that way- in the end. What coaxes the muted apology from him he hardly knows, the words offered with a callous nonchalance all the same, as if his words are as light as a breeze itself and yet still he manages to speak them, her response equally as quiet in this moment of shared peace between a pair of beings destined only to harm each other in the end and yet for now at least he is content enough in her presence to restrain himself from his own instincts. It has been years, truly, since anyone has asked him of his own Mentor, his Maker and yet the night is already ridiculous enough to withhold this conversation, why not merely complete it with the barest glimpse of his own past? The man incapable of denying her the truth of it regardless and yet, he hardly expected her to actually last, at least, not long- none of the knowledge he offers he capable in any way of returning to harm him as he simply shrugs once more- forcing that indifference into his voice as he speaks of Evelyn- as if she never truly mattered to him. As if he had not spent thirty years loving her and nearly thirty more missing her every single day he woke up alone. The words of the vampire woman see the gold of his gaze flicker upwards at her clearly displeasure in having been unwanted, in being merely created for spite and perhaps he understands her chagrin in that. Her life destroyed- merely on the whim of another. It is the words that follow however, that seem to unsettle him, the barest thread of irritation seeping into his words now.

"She should have let me die- I was supposed to die."

It is all he cares to answer in response to it, the words muttered offhandedly once more and et it is clear from the strain beneath that he cares far more then he shows, this particular topic not one he wishes to discuss in depth, the woman's final words seeming to lend upon his final nerve in this regard, this mention of...emotion tied to Evelyn's death a topic he refuses utterly to speak off in any manner, golden eyes slicing sideways to very near glare at her now.

"Some wounds do not heal- not ever, no matter how long you live."

He cannot decline her an answer and yet that hardly means he need give her a truth so obvious, his words a whisper and yet laced with a venom that dares her to press him further at her own peril. Her response in regards to his own question however, seems to do little to soothe his mood even if her desire to create no others at least assures him he is right to merely let her live a little longer.

"There is nothing after death. Believe me."

For a moment his gaze almost softens, if only slightly, the man pivoting smoothly on his heel, those golden eyes lifting to her gaze briefly once more, seeming to commit this particular woman to memory before a single flicker and the barest of breezes announce his departure- the man having utterly vanished once more.

Azrael Evero

only fools walk where angels fear to tread