Olivia traded one dark passenger for another. In the absence of Arcasius, the warden and guardian of her soul, Mortality had become her shadow. Unlike the shadow entity, though, Mortality was a demanding presence. It lingered in the peripherals of her mind and caressed her thoughts frequently. It tainted her dreams and brought new pain to old wounds. She saw its reflection in the world around her and feared its hunger. It was slowly stealing her life from her, hour by hour, day by day, and it could not be bargained with.
Mortality was the shadow everyone shared with Death.
As her morbid thoughts threatened to stain a perfectly beautiful day, Olivia forced herself to focus her attention outwardly. Her fingers brushed along the words engraved upon the display’s placard. Her eyes followed in the wake of her touch, but it took her a few tries to retain what she was reading.
‘The Barrens Crocolisk average a length of between 11.5 feet and 16.5 feet, but there have been specimens known to reach 20 feet and weighing up to 2,400 pounds. Despite their size these creatures are adept ambush predators and can move with near blinding speed when the moment is right to attack.’
Olivia lifted her green gaze from the information card and observed the scene beyond the velvet ropes. Captured with taxidermy, a large crocolisk is rising up out of the artfully designed riverbed with its powerful jaws open. The second subject of the scene was a young zhevra, frozen, terrified, in the final moment of its fictional life. If the snapshot of the predator and prey were to come to life, the crocolisk’s mouth would close around the ungulate’s throat. The enormous reptilian creature was a face of death during its life, but Olivia knew that the true fate of both the subjects of the exhibit was not so natural. They had been hunted, skinned, and then built up again from unnatural materials. They were posed, like any other model, and found their immortality lifeless.
“They are really beautiful, aren’t they?”
When her grisly daydreams were interrupted a second time, the intervention came in the form of a voice soft and deep. The stranger gently announced himself as he moved up to observe the display.
“I don’t think I have ever seen either of these creatures captured with such artistry. It is rather moving scene, don’t you think?”
Olivia put on a smile and turned to address the man, but all of her intent was stolen away as she studied his face. Out of the corner of her eye, his manner, attire, and hair afforded him a familiar presence, but seeing him fully took her breath away.
“Sir Corbin?” She whispered, her fingertips covering her lips as the man stepped forward to catch her from falling.
“I am so sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man whispered while helping to keep her to keep her footing.
The resemblance between the stranger and the man to whom Olivia was once promised was uncanny. So much so that she could not find purchase in reality for several moments. She wasn’t even aware that the man led her to a nearby bench and helped her sit down, while staying close and speaking softly to comfort her.
“Are you alright, miss? Should I call for medical aid?”
When at last his voice cut through her confusion, she could hear that he wasn’t the knight who died several decades ago. His accent was distinctly southern, like that of a Stormwind native. His eyes were brown, and Corbin’s had been blue. His face was without scars, and Corbin’s had been riddled with faint reminders that he was a soldier and a knight.
“I’m sorry. You look remarkably similar to a man I once knew,” Olivia whispered hoarsely. “His name was Sir Corbin Anders.”
A cordial smile spread over the man’s features as he subtly shook his head.
“I do not know that name. I am Father Marek Luxster. Are you alright then?”
He slid down the bench to give Olivia some space but watched her as if her condition may relapse.
“Oh yes. Just startled. Maybe a little tired,” Olivia laughed. “I was daydreaming and didn’t hear you approach.”
A melodiously warm chuckle bubbled up and he nodded.
“I was afraid of that. It is why I tried to announce myself. I am quite taken by these displays myself, though. The artists responsible for these pieces truly capture nature in imaginative ways. Well, at least I consider them to be imaginative. I have never seen a crocolisk in the wild.”
Olivia looked back to the display and hummed pensively. Her thoughts were at war as she observed the predator and prey in new light. As silence stretched out, she gave into instinct and potentially impolite honesty.
“I suppose I really haven’t considered them to be sculptures, but you are right. Artists made them this way.”
“Well, it could be argued that nature made them this way,” the priest corrected.
“No. They died at the hands of humanoids. Guns and traps. I don’t consider such things to be natural in the same way that they are natural,” Olivia remarked as she shook her head. She glanced to the man and found him looking at her curiously and decided to continue. “Artists have made them caricatures of what we know them to be. An ambush predator and its elegant prey. It is a snapshot of what may have been if they had lived on together. But they were taken from nature and brought here to serve their lifeless immortality in a dead zoo.”
Marek turned away to look at the display. Just as it had when Olivia was considering his point of view, silence filled in the space between them. Her sigh broke it only subtly and she started to stand, assuming her macabre assessment had upset the priest. However, he turned and reached for her without touching her.
“I have not seen it that way, but you are absolutely correct. You have a very unique outlook, miss.”
Although he didn’t draw the last word out, Olivia realized she hadn’t introduced herself. She chuckled and took his hand to shake it, despite the original intent behind the gesture.
“Olivia Lovecraft. I am glad I have not darkened your day with my gruesome assessments, Father.”
He stood up as he shook her hand, still smiling.
“Not at all, Miss Lovecraft. It is refreshing to see these things through the eyes of another. I am especially fascinated by your use of the words ‘lifeless’ and ‘immortality’ in conjunction to one another. I wanted to say that it is a contradiction, but…well, it is rather apt, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps it is something I have coined? I consider the things here, in the museum, the relics and artifacts, the legacies and ideals on display, to all be lifeless immortality. These creatures died once, but now they are here. Just like the portraits in the art hall on the second floor, every subject is immortalized beside the artist who captured them.”
His dark eyes gleamed as Marek listened to the woman with intense interest. Again, she saw Corbin in the priest’s expression, but while it made her heart ache, she was strong enough to resist succumbing to the pain.
“I can’t help but feel as though there is disappointment in your tone, Miss Lovecraft.”
“A bit,” she confessed as another sigh betrayed her. “It seems like such a tragedy that immortality only comes as lifeless or half-life existences.”
“Do you really believe that? What about the Elves and Draenei? The Celestials and Dragons? Would you suggest they all lead half-lives?”
“No. But, time has proved that their immortality is imperfect. I suppose, though, that would suggest, like time, mortality is a construct, and nothing can evade Death’s embrace forever.”
“No. I don’t believe anything natural can,” Marek agreed. His lips parted, as if he had insight to offer on the topic, but he was interrupted.
“Father, the curator will see you now,” a young woman reported. She stood at smart attention and waited for him to turn and follow her back from where she came. A subtle sigh escaped the man and he smiled one last time to Olivia.
“It has been very lovely making your acquaintance, Miss Lovecraft. If you ever desire to continue our musings, you should be able to find me here on the weekends.”
Olivia bowed her head, acknowledging his words and their parting in the gesture.
“Thank you, Father. I am sure to return one day.”
Without a nod, the man turned and let the woman guide him back to his business, leaving Olivia to her thoughts, and the case for immortality.
