07-07-2019, 01:34 AM
Immortality is a curse - the polar opposite of any blessing. Life was meant to be concluded by the release of death. Removing expiration from that cycle also removed a primary element of existence itself. Assuming one had an indefinite life expectancy, they could no longer be classified as a living being, but as a constant. Wounds meant little to nothing, as wounds healed with time. Aging was but a hypothetical occurrence, since time itself would have become totally irrelevant. All these little aspects of life out of one’s grasp, all the while being forced to sit back and observe others experience the pleasantries and troubles brought by life. If that wasn’t a curse, then the mortal couldn’t discern what was.
As the years passed, higher and higher numbers of desperate individuals gave as much as their soul could allow in the hopes of acquiring eternal life. Wasting their days away, blindly searching for an impossible reward for their strife. It was disheartening, but he cared very little for morons who chose to be morons. Chasing after the endowment of prolonged life was nothing short of a fool’s errand; To pursue immortality is to court with calamity.
The guardsman wished not for immortality, though fully aware his days were now numbered. In fact, he found a strange peace in knowing that death may be just around the corner. Made it easier to sleep at night, actually. Quite easier.
-
Leroy’s unkempt muzzle drew a rather audible yawn, the stale taste of last night’s dinner still lingering in the rear areas of his throat. His eyes hung heavily, amber slits barely providing him with enough eyesight to get by. The oversized canine would have resumed his slumber, if it were not for the disturbance off in the distance in the form of a faint splash! The sound wasn’t very loud, yet it was enough to push away sleep’s grasp. Enough to compel the drowsy being onto all fours. Enough to draw him towards the source of the perturbation.
By the time he had arrived, he was just in time to hear Aziraphale’s response to the Tanglers whom were already present.
Aziraphale. Nice name. Sounds Italian.
Initially, the most attention-grabbing characteristic of the stranger was his dapper tie. It took serious balls to waltz into Tanglewood with a sense of fashion, such a thing was unheard of around these parts. Yet, the more he scrutinized the individual, and his mannerisms, the more chary Leroy became. The feline seemed... odd. How he spoke was quite out of place - one as civilized as he didn’t accidentally stumble upon a radioactive swamp. It wasn’t any reason to be suspicious, though he’d keep it in mind for later.
Judging by the stranger’s whines, he had just become the latest victim of Beck’s mischief.
"Calm down, pal, 's just a bit of mud," he rang reassuringly, casually sauntering into the scene, "besides, you’ll probably get a lot dirtier than that if you plan on stayin’ in our swamp." Appearance wouldn’t be the only regard that’ll get a little dirtied up - within a month tops, Aziraphale’s clean tongue wouldn’t be as spotless as it is now. He could bet on that.
"Our doors’re always open to outsiders, you’ll find," he promptly continued, ere inaudibly murmuring "even the murderous bastard type...". Once more, his yellow peepers scanned the foreigner’s small figure, attempting to identify any details about the male he had missed.
Traces of a smirk materialized in the corners of his mouth. "I’m sure you’ll make yourself at home in no time, pal, but I must ask - are you sure this’s the right place for you?" Following his question, Leroy tossed his eyes in the surrounding directions, aiming to point out the setting’s unfortunate appearance. If necessary, he could always provide Aziraphale with directions to Elysium, instead.
As the years passed, higher and higher numbers of desperate individuals gave as much as their soul could allow in the hopes of acquiring eternal life. Wasting their days away, blindly searching for an impossible reward for their strife. It was disheartening, but he cared very little for morons who chose to be morons. Chasing after the endowment of prolonged life was nothing short of a fool’s errand; To pursue immortality is to court with calamity.
The guardsman wished not for immortality, though fully aware his days were now numbered. In fact, he found a strange peace in knowing that death may be just around the corner. Made it easier to sleep at night, actually. Quite easier.
-
Leroy’s unkempt muzzle drew a rather audible yawn, the stale taste of last night’s dinner still lingering in the rear areas of his throat. His eyes hung heavily, amber slits barely providing him with enough eyesight to get by. The oversized canine would have resumed his slumber, if it were not for the disturbance off in the distance in the form of a faint splash! The sound wasn’t very loud, yet it was enough to push away sleep’s grasp. Enough to compel the drowsy being onto all fours. Enough to draw him towards the source of the perturbation.
By the time he had arrived, he was just in time to hear Aziraphale’s response to the Tanglers whom were already present.
Aziraphale. Nice name. Sounds Italian.
Initially, the most attention-grabbing characteristic of the stranger was his dapper tie. It took serious balls to waltz into Tanglewood with a sense of fashion, such a thing was unheard of around these parts. Yet, the more he scrutinized the individual, and his mannerisms, the more chary Leroy became. The feline seemed... odd. How he spoke was quite out of place - one as civilized as he didn’t accidentally stumble upon a radioactive swamp. It wasn’t any reason to be suspicious, though he’d keep it in mind for later.
Judging by the stranger’s whines, he had just become the latest victim of Beck’s mischief.
"Calm down, pal, 's just a bit of mud," he rang reassuringly, casually sauntering into the scene, "besides, you’ll probably get a lot dirtier than that if you plan on stayin’ in our swamp." Appearance wouldn’t be the only regard that’ll get a little dirtied up - within a month tops, Aziraphale’s clean tongue wouldn’t be as spotless as it is now. He could bet on that.
"Our doors’re always open to outsiders, you’ll find," he promptly continued, ere inaudibly murmuring "even the murderous bastard type...". Once more, his yellow peepers scanned the foreigner’s small figure, attempting to identify any details about the male he had missed.
Traces of a smirk materialized in the corners of his mouth. "I’m sure you’ll make yourself at home in no time, pal, but I must ask - are you sure this’s the right place for you?" Following his question, Leroy tossed his eyes in the surrounding directions, aiming to point out the setting’s unfortunate appearance. If necessary, he could always provide Aziraphale with directions to Elysium, instead.