Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Ravenous for Answers

Lark

Saint of the Damned
Lark studied alone deep within the depths of the newly constructed Sith Temple on Dantooine, within the library, full of ancient knowledge long ignored by those of lesser minds. The temple was far less dreary than it was when Lark had assisted in retaking it. Where mist and cold stone once covered the floor now instead lay furbished tiles and plush rugs. The library, while not as grand as the one on Bastion, was still full of books and holocrons once thought to be lost to the ever flowing sands of time. Since joining the Sith it seemed as though he had spent more time reading and acquiring knowledge than he had training and utilizing his burgeoning powers. This was not a mistake in his mind, but it was something that needed rectifying. His style of street fighting, however adaptable and clever he refined it, would only get him so far. He could not trick himself into the position of Lord. Knowledge is power, but so is strength. Lark would need both in order to find what is was he sought.

Answers, for everything.

It seemed a fleeting dream, and years ago Lark wouldn't have bothered trying, believing it to be thoroughly pointless. But he had changed since then. Perhaps there wasn't a point, but how satisfying it would feel to insult reality itself in such a way. He had considered himself to be an abnormality, indeed he should have perished years ago. But he and fate had different plans, and damned be to those who got in his way.

He stood from his table, gathering his pile of books and holocrons. He had been studying for several hours, perfectly memorizing line after line of text. He continued to cultivate his speaking of the Sith language, read of the flora and fauna residing on Dantooine, and continued to learn of the grand history of the Sith Order. Thousands of years of history, all held within his hands. And he only had so long to learn. He strolled through the corridors of the library, returning his selected items to where he found them. And as he moved to place the last book onto it's shelf, he felt a familiar presence. However terrible and unnatural the feeling he felt was, it was not unwelcome. Quite the opposite, Lark had been hoping to uncover more about it sense he first noticed the sickening sensation.

He could have spied on her, but she possessed an understanding of the Force that far exceeded that of any other acolyte. She would have sensed him as easily as he sensed her, and despite his foulness his aura was not so repugnant as her's. People were fleshy enigmas, but Ariealla Vareldi more than most. Indeed, he had discovered firsthand her odd fascination of flesh. He had noted that she was different before they fought, and his hypothesis was soon proven correct. Her dreadful semblance she emanated, coupled with her abnormally skilled method of fighting had only fueled Lark's interest in the tiny woman.

Perhaps it was a tad rude to approach someone at the library, but Lark didn't find himself caring. Whatever dark secrets the woman was hiding Lark wanted to know, no matter how horrible they might be. "Hello again, little Ariealla. Do you mind if I sit?" He asked in a polite, melodious voice. "There were a few questions I'd hoped you might be able to answer."

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]
 
Naturally the presence, Ariealla Vareldi, was spending her days much as she used to, several thousand years ago. Seated amid a library, contently reading through book after book, and absorbing what lay inside. Naturally she avoided much of history in these tomes, it only made her chuckle what they did or didn't get right, but even so one or two had worked her way into the day's agenda. Normally, such content times were within the comfort of sith capitals, yet alas she had to be content with the library on Dantooine for now. Such places were no longer homes to sith as they ought to be, and the scraps would make due.

It was here, comfortably seated in the library, that the silence was broke by [member="Lark"]'s polite, sweet voice. At first, Ariealla didn't seem to notice, before the chair opposite her shifted with a flick of her wrist. "Of course, little songbird. It is far from my place to deny you a seat." There was a small smile on her lips, as she shifted her violet regalia a bit, fixing her appearance for him somewhat. "Of course, I can make no such promises with whatever you seek to ask. Though I'm interested what you could possibly have to ask me.."
 

Lark

Saint of the Damned
"Many thanks," Lark said with the voice as harmonic as those bird's Ariealla seemed to love so much. He trailed his finger alongside the edge of the table as he moved towards his seat, before sitting upon the offered seat. The little Sith eyed him with curiosity, and he returned the look. He couldn't think of a way the gain the answers he sought in an impromptu manner, but he didn't think asking bluntly would produce the best results. The darkest secrets were the ones most closely held, the most vigorously protected. No, Lark could not simply hope to prod the woman with personal questions until she gave in.

But there was a way she could shed some light on the aura that reeked around her. Now that he could converse with her without the immediate risk of being shredded by her blades, he had the opportunity to bask in the utter foulness that exploded from within her. Those with less tolerance to such sensations would surely go distraught by simply being in the same vicinity. "It's no secret that your Force presence is... unlike that of many others. Even the Lords." He spoke with her like they were old friends, he had always had the inherent skill of putting people's minds at ease when he spoke with them. He credited his voice. "You seem knowledgeable of the Force, perhaps more than any acolyte should know."

One could not expect another to reveal their secrets without being prepared to reveal his own. Lark was willing to shed a few details of his past, an honor or horror he hadn't bestowed on many others. "I once gave off a similar phenomenon, and at it's height it was as vile as yours." The words he spoke were true. When he led the slaughter of his hometown the dark feeling surrounding the place grew stronger and stronger, as if he was affecting the threads of reality itself, like the damage and suffering he caused went extended beyond the physical realm. "I killed a great deal of people," he continued. He didn't take pride in the fact, but he wasn't ashamed. Death was a normal thing, and granting it to others was something Lark did well. "After the flames subsided, I felt as though whatever dark force held me would consume and destroy me. So not only was I fighting against the flames and smoke, but some other wound as well." He still had burn marks underneath his clothing, although most had healed over time. "Eventually the feeling ebbed alongside the fire, and I was left the only resident breathing. As someone who is experiencing something very similar to what I did, I was curious as to whether or not you could shed any light on what causes the aura. Why was my affliction temporary, while yours appears to be permanent?" Lark studied the woman intently, there was so much to her that he wished to know. Hopefully, this would be a good start.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]
 
Curious, she thought to herself as she folded the book, placing it atop the others beside her. She was aware, on some level, what it was he was after, secrets, knowledge. Of what exactly she could only guess, but willingly giving secrets, or information otherwise closely held, that was rarely given freely. He wanted knowledge from her, of something she experienced intimately. Even so, she could not let such a generous gesture go unrewarded, that would simply be rude after all. "The force marks each with a unique signature, representative of the paths and choices they have made. Light, Dark, all actions affect this. What side of the force we draw upon can change us, make us sickly, repulsive, reflective of our gluttony, avarice, lust, whatever has brought us to that point. I assume this is something you already understand?"

She folded her hands in her lap as she continued. "Grand acts of darkness, genocides, massacres, anything that drowns out the light in a sea of dark emotions such as hatred or fear, these things produce grand auras of darkness. To those who create and draw upon this, who feed upon it, it marks us with it. However, as these sensations die down, and the time moves on, it subsides, leaving a mark upon us but no longer fed by dark acts or emotions. Without fuel, our aura only lingers. Some acts, however, produce grand sums of darkness, creating much larger marks to last without fuel. Over a lifetime, more and more darkness can accumulate, eventually resulting in overwhelming auras of darkness. I myself have done many, many dark things in my life, raised to uphold my legacy. I've just, accumulated more." She hoped this would satisfy him. There was truth to what she said of course, and perhaps it was indeed all that could be said. However, if he sought more personal results to explain her aura, it would leave something of a hole. Her knowledge could be explained away, but the darkness surrounding her lingered from lifetimes, repeatedly preforming the darkest act possible.

AT best she expected a halfhearted acceptance.

[member="Lark"]
 

Lark

Saint of the Damned
Lark listened to the given explanation through attentive ears. What she said made sense. Concentrated acts of evil attracted darkness, and that darkness lingered around even after the conclusion of whatever malicious act was being carried out. Once Lark had left the ashes of his hometown his aura eventually waned, and it never returned because his killings were never of the same magnitude. "I had figured it was something along those lines, yes." But besides that, other words she spoke stuck out to him, words of committing atrocious deeds in order to uphold her legacy. Part of a royal family perhaps, or a part of some religious society? She certainly dressed the part of a royal, and her knowledge of the Force could have been obtained through vigorous study or training from religious fanatics. Both options Lark would keep in mind.

"But that begs another question," Lark continued. "You stated that hideous deeds such as the ones we've committed accumulate over time. This makes sense," he spoke. His eyes were unblinking, attempting to capture her own in his peaceful gaze. They were almost purple, a color he had always found soothing. He had found that when eyes were locked words of understanding flowed more freely. She looked young, physically she appeared younger than Lark, but she carried herself with maturity unfit for one looking so young. "You don't seem to be that much older than I am. And for someone who's only lived perhaps a little longer than two decades, your deeds sure tend to linger. Your aura's far more dark and noxious than any of the Lords I've come across, who've been around for decades longer than either of us. How foul and numerous your horrid actions must be, and committed in such a short amount of time..."

Could Ariealla have been groomed from birth to be some kind of adroit killer? Perhaps. But Lark couldn't shake the lingering feeling that there was some other mystery to her. No matter what she had done, how could she have racked up an aura more distasteful than any other in a such a short lifetime?

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]
 
"Not all acts are equal, little songbird." She smiled politely, non threateningly, back at him, her violet contact wearing eyes level with his as she spoke. Of course it was logical following what she already said, but her words seemed to hint at something different. Not all acts, yet one murder from another without much variation only contributed slight variables of darkness. Everything equal on scale... what could linger so long, so profoundly? Well, certainly something of such magnitude had to stem from a particularly dark source. And of course, Ariealla was hinting at what she had done, letting Lark put together piece by piece the story.

"I was raised to uphold my legacy, that of the first Ariealla Vareldi. Have you heard of her? She was a powerful assassin from the era of the Cold War, between the Sith Empire and the Republic. She was present for the sacking of the Jedi temple on Corruscaunt, and held the title of Darth for many long years. However, she vanished, leaving naught a single trace, shortly before the fall of the entire Empire. Never was her body found. She was particularly known for her depth of knowledge, particularly her interest in history and sith sorceries. She had a vast collection of holocrons before they scattered." She considered what more he could learn, what he needed. A vital piece that would help him, if he was willing to think.

"Mm.. but enough of the past, you're concerned with why my darkness lingers so great. You wonder what I must have done to create such a darkness.. well perhaps you're thinking of it wrong. How numerous the acts matters, but perhaps it is but a single act that upset the order of things? Perhaps something so foul even our Lords have not done it. Perhaps I've yet to stop it." She chuckled, there. The vital hint. She indeed messed with the order of the universe, living beyond death, past the point of no return. She preformed an act so dark, so difficult, the Lords had never preformed it themselves. And by the fact she was alive still, she was technically still in the act itself. It was a good, perfect hint. But the art of Essence transfer, while not as previously unknown, was still a secret held close to the chests of many, and preformed by even fewer.

[member="Lark"]
 

Lark

Saint of the Damned
Every word she spoke, every syllable she uttered, Lark absorbed with engaged ears. When [member="Ariealla Vareldi"] had first introduced herself to him, back during their sparring session which was more akin to an actual fight to the death, he felt as though he recognized the name, although at the time he didn't know why. Now he did. Since he joined the Sith he spent a great deal of his time reading on ancient Sith texts, mostly history, but the occasional technique as well. There was so much to go through that even he hadn't had time to commit it all to memory, and thus when he heard the name he knew it but couldn't place where exactly he heard it. Could her bloodlines really be traced back that far? That was centuries ago. That could explain her skill and knowledge in the Force, if she was the descendant of the original she'd go to great lengths to ensure she lived up to the name. It was an answer.

But not one that satisfied him.

No, there was something else she was alluding to, something he was missing. What was it?

Let's sort through what you know, what she's said. The Ariealla in front of me claims to be the descendant of the original Ariealla Vareldi, whether the bond is through blood or not isn't known. The original was an incredibly skilled assassin from long ago who was very sophic with history and sorceries, as befits an assassin of her caliber. This is in line with the current Ariealla, who also is extremely potent with the Force. The first Ariealla faded from all known records around the time the Empire fell and it was never known what happened to her. In reference to the aura, she asserts that accumulation of malicious deeds is not the sole contributor when it comes to how foul the sensation is. There are acts so foul that just performing it a single time is enough to disrupt the natural order of things. Or continuing to perform it, as she alludes. Something the Lords haven't done, so likely not wanton slaughter. Remember, not all foul deeds involve death. You should know that better than anyone.

But some things just didn't add up. An assassin as experienced as her would only vanish if she wanted to, he highly doubted she was captured or killed during the fall of the Empire. Individuals could be incredibly hard to track. No, she couldn't have been killed, especially not if she was capable of passing down her name through generations.

Think! There's something you're not seeing. What was the original Ariealla doing while in hiding? From the admittedly little I know of her, is she really the type to pass on her name? No, I doubt it. She was incredibly gifted with the ancient Sith sorceries, could she use those to pass her gifts on to another, and that person did the same to someone else, and so on and so on until it was this Little Ariealla's turn? No, something like that surely would have been picked up in records somewhere. The books would be full of different Arieallas. In hiding she would've had plenty of time to refine her powers. She had plenty of time, and somehow someone bearing her name ends up here before me.

Could it really be so easily explained? Such a thing would be possible, I've heard of such things but never actually imagined them being put into practice. ​"Is immortality really so grievous a sin?" Lark guessed. He maintained his composed manner, but if this was indeed the original Ariealla, how spectacular that would be!
 
The songbird found the notes, it seemed. She smiled ever so slightly, and dipped her head gently. "No.. but to refuse your place in chaos is quite the act... doubly so when you send another in your place." Her smile, along with her words, would no doubt confirm his suspicions. How delightfully observant was this man, this little songbird. She would enjoy him very thoroughly, that was for certain. "I trust you can understand my secrets, little songbird? Though the Lords might not care, I dare say the other acolytes might find themselves.. overeager to prove they belong. You've earned your knowledge, but no other has."

She chuckled a bit, glancing down at the books beside her. "Though I have not lied to you entirely. Little Ariealla was raised to uphold her legacy, my legacy, as were the Ariealla's before her. All the way to the original, who started the tradition of naming their first born Ariealla." She smiled a bit and sat back in her chair, violet eyes trained on [member="Lark"], unwavering. "I suspect you have other things to ask, now don't you?"
 

Lark

Saint of the Damned
Lark tried his damnedest to contain his wonderment, and he liked to think that he did a good job. As a child he occasionally wondered about fairy tale figures such as her, but he was so cut off from the rest of the galaxy, trapped in that isolated orphanage like a bird in a cage. He had never been able to learn for himself if such people truly existed. And now there was one sitting in front of him, conversing with him. He had fought against one! It was a great deal to take in. He had never pictured that he, a nameless boy from the slums of Myrkr, would meet a legendary, thousand-year old Sith Assassin. He composed himself, looking at Little Ariealla with wondrous curiosity. It made so much sense, and Lark highly doubted that she was lying to him, that he was being played for a fool.

But what to ask next? What's it like to be immortal? No, that's to simple, to open-ended. There are more pointed questions that can be asked that will achieve the same result. "Do you get bored?" he asked thoughtfully. "You've lived through all these years, I'm assuming? Thousands of years, that sounds like it could be dreadfully dull. Do the years tend to blend together, how much do you actually remember? A few thousand years is a long time." He tried not to let the questions flow to quickly, but there was so much that he wanted to ask, so much he wanted to know. Across the table there was a source so much greater than any book or holocron, millennia of history in one tiny mind. Lark chuckled, 'Little Ariealla' seemed a beautifully ironic nickname.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]
 
"Bored? Hardly... after a while you lose interest in your base desires, and look to the galaxy for meaning. I particularly grew interested after Bane's betrayal and rule of two. He was quite the individual, a sith if ever I've seen one. Then there was the whole business with the Empire, that was quite the enjoyable show. Regrettably most events have blurred, as you put it, molding together. It's a regrettable side effect of time. To that end, my holocron." She chuckled lightly, running her fingers over her arms. The little songbird sure knew how to pick his questions wisely.

Still, she was curious herself. Naturally he asked a perfect question, a very well pointed question... but she had expected him to ask something very different first. How did you do it? [member="Lark"] seemed quite interested in learning, and naturally she was quite the opportunity, yet she expected a Sith to immediately become more interested in how the act worked. Then again, he hardly seemed like a sith, as they were today anyways. Perhaps that was the explanation...
 

Lark

Saint of the Damned
"Indeed, I suppose if one gives themselves a goal to work towards, the endless drag of time would be a bit more appealing for an immortal, I'd imagine. But perhaps immortal isn't quite the right word," he mused. He remembered back to their fight, that sandy field flooded with blood and gore. He still bore a few scars from wounds that the ancient assassin had inflicted upon him. But he had given her similar wounds, which felt even better knowing what he did now. "You bleed just like I do. Ageless, maybe? Long-lasting?" He shrugged, the terminology really didn't concern him that much.

But at the mention of the past, another question flickered in his engaged mind. "Oh, how much I could learn from you," he said with a gentle chuckle. "Bane? The Empire? And you were around when they were, if not far predating them." He paused for a moment, smiling, delighted at the conversation. He had expected small morsels of information, but instead had received a full meal. "So, how did you do it? Achieve this effect, I mean. Perhaps some of the more advanced methods and sorceries used by the Sith are beyond my understanding, but I'd like to try anyways. Could I achieve a similar result, once I become more accustomed to the Dark Side?"

It was a longshot, he knew. One day, he would die, of that he was certain. Death came for everyone, in the end. It would come for him, the Lords, Little Ariealla, all who have once drawn breath. Lark had always had the feeling that it would catch up with him at any moment. He had always assumed that his wicked deeds would plague the galaxy fora mere blink of time, and he would need to be something truly horrendous to stand out amongst the other monsters the pits of the galaxy choked out. The concept of eternal life had never taken root in his mind, forever was not meant for him.

But he still wanted to know, just in case.

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]
 
"No, immortal isn't quite right. I'm still very capable of death, I merely stave it off for a few decades of so." She chuckled at his attempt to find an appropriate word before moving on. [member="Lark"] was quite the curious songbird, and she was only too delighted to give him the smallest morsels for his effort.

"For your sake, if you'd believe I have as much heart, I won't explain the technique in detail nor name it, though I suspect a clever bird could find out if they wished even so. However, it's simple enough to begin by saying it is beyond risky. As I said, i wasn't lying entirely. I did create a tradition to pass along my name, as I achieved immortality by taking the bodies of these descendants."

"Yes, the real Little Ariealla is dead, her soul sent to the afterlife of the force, perhaps even Chaos. In her body resides my own spirit, animating what could be considered a corpse if you held certain viewpoints. However, because of, let's say the family upbringing, her desire was to fill this duty."

"See, what I do is dangerous, taking over a body is a contest of wills. If I were to fail, I would be scattered to Chaos. However, a clone, or an indoctrinated subject, they're not as firm in their will to live. It isn't a matter of darkness, little songbird. Dark lords of olden days tried and failed to use this ancient technique. Their souls are left for eternal torment, even more so than we already are as Sith. Use of this ability is something thought out well before it's ever used.. trust me songbird. It's for your own good I leave it there."
She sat all the way back in her seat, her eyes holding a dead seriousness to them as she stared at Lark.

She held the survival of the Sith as a priority, and she found Lark amusing. Thus, she'd do what she could to help him mot get killed early. "... Still, perhaps one day you might hold the will or foresight to become not unlike me. But I, unlike many, believe these dark secrets should be earned and understood... not used for temptation or corruption. What value do they hold, after all, in the hands of a child who cannot appreciate them?"
 

Lark

Saint of the Damned
So the effect would be achievable, he thought. For now the methods used by Ariealla continued to lie beyond his understanding, but he had always been a quick learner. Whatever this power was, Lark would be sure to grant it his attention sometime in the future. But while a bit of youthful rebellion urged him to study the process now, he knew he was not ready and that delving to deep into it's secrets would end in disaster. As she said, he must not let temptation overwhelm him. Temptation was the destroyer of progress, the killer of the weak-minded. He would not let it consume him, as it fell so many others. And if willpower was necessary to maintain such a feat, he had that in spades. He possessed an unyielding resolve, but he was left with a significant lack of experience.

But that could be remedied.

"It seems I have a great deal to learn, and much more training to do" he said. "Thankfully, it would appear there's no shortage of resources available to me. If I ever attempt to accomplish what you have done I believe it would be for a similar reason: To continue to learn and study the secrets of the universe. But I can't help but wonder if there are other reasons for seeking a longer life..." he mused.

"Many people have accepted the inevitability of death, and they live in hopes of becoming a memory, believing that if one's name is remembered, etched in the heart or mind of another, then they are not truly dead. If nothing else, their name lives on. But eventually, even if it takes millennia, all names will be forgotten. Do you fear death, Ariealla? You've eluded it for so long, perhaps you've never given it as much thought as mortal beings have. Does nonexistence frighten you? Are you worried about someday being forgotten, to have the universe continue while you're left behind, swallowed by the endless flow of time?"

Death and the human reaction to it piqued Lark's interest like little else could. It was almost an incomprehensible thought, to know that at any moment one might cease to exist forever. I wonder how someone who has been around for so long views the endless slumber. What does Little Ariealla think of death?

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]
 
"Do I fear death, now that's a question I haven't heard in a long time." She chuckled, resting her cheek on her hand as she rested the elbow on the arm of her chair. [member="Lark"] truly was a curious creature wasn't he? He was asking all the questions he reasonably could, and truthfully most had been quite well worded. Though perhaps not this one, at least not to her perception. She knew well enough what he wanted to know, her views on death itself, but he asked it in so many ways. Save one.

"No, little songbird. I don't fear death. Nonexistence is inevitable, as you have put it well enough. Even if I am never to die, one day the galaxy will reach entropy, and I will effectively cease to exist. No, I am not afraid of this in the slightest. Perhaps at first, perhaps even for a century or two. But now.. fear of death has long passed. One day I will fade into nothing, and all memories of me will end. Such is how it is meant to be, if the galaxy truly remembered me for eternity, well I did something wrong. I like there to be documentation I existed, that the Sith existed, but for my sake I feel most at ease knowing very little survives."

"I suppose you could put it in the manner that I have created a legacy that can never be tarnished. This Galaxy, the fact that Sith remain, and always will. My quiet in the days of the Rule of Two was to this end, and now you can see the profit of it. Even in the destruction of the two, the ideals continue on. But if you are asking, little songbird, if I will do all I can to stay alive, the answer is yes. I may not fear my death, but I desire to live, as all living things do. My spine will tingle with innate instinct, but it is not fear that drives me. I have much more to learn, much more to do. I can ill afford to die until I have learned all the secrets of the Force."


A genuine heartfelt truth. Would it be acceptable for him?
 

Lark

Saint of the Damned
"An answer that matches my own beliefs, echoed nearly word for word." Nearly. That part about the Sith always remaining, a constant akin to that of the galaxy, that part made him doubt. Other factions had come and gone over the lifespan of the galaxy, what made the Sith any different? They had been around for a long time, perhaps Ariealla was biased because she was the benefactor of this. Whenever they fall, the Sith rise again, stronger than before. But was it truly possible for the Sith to exist eternally? No, I think not. Everything falls eventually. Myself. Ariealla. The Lords. The Sith. Even the Galaxy itself will one day draw it's final breath. These things might not happen for millennia, perhaps longer. But they will happen. Time kills all.

But Lark didn't mention this aloud to the little immortal, her reaction might prove deadly. She seemed more intertwined with the Sith than most, seeing as how she had been apart of the order for so long. But what to ask next? It was funny how one might fantasize about scenarios one once thought impossible, and how fluid those imagined conversations went. Now that he was faced with something he always wondered about, he struggled to think of what to say next. He had wondered why he, an acolyte, had been able to go toe-to-toe with someone with so much experience. But he gathered that while her knowledge of fighting carried over, her skill with the staff proved that much, this new body was still unaccustomed to the Force. He figured that her pills had something to do with her immortality, perhaps to prevent mental decay? So what to ask next?

"Have you ever found yourself... excited for what the future holds? Or has the endless monotony of time dulled your desire to see what happens next, to see how the Sith progress? Are you satisfied with the way the Sith operate now, as opposed to how it used to be? Along those same lines, do you ever feel... disconnected from mortal life? Like you're some sort of foreign being, separate from the rest of us?"

[member="Ariealla Vareldi"]
 
"A thousand years, a thousand different kinds of Sith. Even this late in the game for myself, it's entertaining to see what beliefs will return, prevail, and grow. How it used to be? There's always been splinter groups and new interpretations. We think of the old days as two singular patterns, the Empire and the Rule of Two. There were others, however. In days long gone, the Sith Brotherhood operated much as the Ascendancy does today. Had it not been for Bane's betrayal, they may have flourished, or may have died out. Who can truly say?"

She smiled lightly at [member="Lark"], answering his first two questions slowly enough while giving herself time to consider the third. Disconnected... that was quite the way to put it. Separate from the rest of those who lived mortal lives, even though she herself could die as they could. The woman lifted a hand to her lips, humming in thought. Perhaps she hadn't really considered it, after so long if such were a feeling she held, it had numbed. Like many things, really, it had to for her to survive. Oh the little songbird was good at questioning her, skilled at a blade, skilled with his tongue.

"Perhaps I do, or rather did, feel separate from the likes of you and others. If so, however, the feeling has dulled, gone numb with time. Though no longer a slave to my base instincts, vices, pleasures and the likes, I can still enjoy them as life presents them to me. I can still find reasons to live in the moment, as any living being can, though I am content to watch from afar and enjoy them all the same. So perhaps I have come to feel distant, separate. Yet, reconciled it, and found ways to retain a sensation of living."
 

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