❝ things don’t change. we change. ❞
"Some of us, do not change, it seems.
The halls of mortal hospitals were a bit bleak, usually filled with distress and clinical anxiousness humans never found the cure for. Asclepius General Hospital, Trauma and Healthcare Centre should have been a more cheery, vibrant, upbeat, place. She had thought so, at least. With the divine intervention of godly doctors and nurses, paired with the teaching of ages and the powers of healing, the mortality rate was much less foreboding. Still, dread hung from the walls like tapestry, and when he appeared around the corner as she spoke to a nurse, she knew why.
Put together and so very normal looking, she was sure he warded off suspicion well, but she still felt distant distrust bubble in her stomach like hot tar. It was not so strange to run into him here, but she still narrowed her eyes, disliking his sudden interjecting into the conversation. She straightened from her casual stance, ample hip cocked against the desk, arms crossed neatly under her breasts. She did not like the way he took his fill of her appearance anytime they ran the unpleasantness of running into each other.
"Then again, who am I to say? Here I am, wearing clothes like a mortal and spending days peacefully. Perhaps we do change, or maybe me merely adapt."
