" Have you ever had a moment to just.. sit down and wonder what you've been doing your entire life? "
" I HAVE . AND IT IS ... NOT PLEASANT , REALLY . " HIS SIGH , SHARP , as any other part of him . carved from cruelty , wrought as any weapon . what he was taught ------ where he was from . things lost , forgotten . all a blur of harsh , brilliant light . songs , beautiful , words , harsh ...
and death . so much death .
what was time to an immortal being ? and what , to a man born for pain , was any anguish ? a certainity .
quilge taps one finger , solemn & controlled , against an ivory rest . his gaze fixed forward . ever forward . that was a toll he'd gladly paid , he'd thought , lifetimes ago . lives no man should live -- let alone was prepared for . that he could endure what others couldn't . small pieces of him , unscathed by war & violence & sheer will , were long since lost .
" what I have been doing my entire life was not my choosing . but , it is always something I have become . my work offers little time for rest , for wonder . yet , on rare occassion , I allow myself some supposedly deserved reflection .
I prefer not to think about it for too long . I know my place , my purpose . And I intend to fulfill it . "