You’re going to have to figure out how to feed yourself for the rest of your existence, as much I’d love to rock the boat and start leaving Original blood outside your door nightly. I’ll let you handle it. You’re very perceptive, for a recent human. That’s part of it - most of it, even. Privately mourning a monster you could never please properly. But it’s more than that. I was created as a pretty thing for Cristiana to have, so I was always at least partially aware of where I fell among Nico’s priorities. How quickly he spiraled was still shocking. I never could have turned on him if it wouldn’t have cost me her.
Humans and witches die all the time. Metaphors of ants or snowflakes have never fully captured it for me. It’s a little like…being in a room with one tv, playing movies constantly. They only play once and then never again. If you miss one or it abruptly ends, who cares? There are thousands of others, on infinite channels. But if it’s a good one - you want to be around for every second of it, because it’ll never play again. It’s all the more precious. My merry band of sociopaths existed outside of that inevitable process. They’ve been alive for every single second of my existence, for better or worse. I was my own person, free to do my own things, but the hierarchy meant I was tied by invisible string to all of them, ready to do whatever they requested at all times. All the strings are cut. All the ancients in my life are gone, save for Cristiana. They killed four monsters - but they also felled four redwood trees, ancient beings. I can’t fathom a world where they don’t exist anymore. It feels horribly empty. And I can’t believe I’ve watched some of my favorite movies come to a tragic or peaceful end when I could have given them forever, just to please these gods that don’t exist anymore. Your hearing is just as good as mine now - you know how far it stretches. I’m hungry and exhausted and a mix of six or seven other negative emotions. I could be likely to kill the next person to make the wrong comment about my dead family.
I’ll figure it out. Just not keen on running head first into murdering someone again. No matter whose fault you think it was, it still sucked. I don’t think perceptive and age go hand in hand. Experience, maybe but not age. Some people clearly live hundreds of years in their own head never thinking about anyone else. Others, live just a couple decades and get pretty used to sizing up people’s moods. It’s okay to mourn what you wanted something to be. Even if that’s not what it was. Or not what it turned out to be.
If it’s any consolation, which I’m sure it’s not, I think we all have the ability to keep building. Even if we don’t think we do. There’s a new life around the corner from every life you leave behind. You may just have to watch a few more movies than before until you find ones worth stopping on. I’m sorry ... for what you lost. And how unstable everything is now. I can’t pretend to be bothered that they’re gone or to know a damn thing about the supernatural world beyond these last few months, but I’m sorry. Go head ... take your leave, don’t get anyone dead. You included. Pretty sure you’re one of the only people who can show me how this works. And as independent as I like to be, this is a whole other dimension of shit.
