A/N On the invitation of SecretAnimeNinja I wrote a piece inspired by his/her piece called "A year After Your Death" I have no excuse other than I closed my eyes and willed myself into 'Sbastian's' poity boots and this is what came out. It wasn't what I was expecting. If it wasn't what you were expecting, then you can join me in standing off to the side, scratchingyour head and being vaguely creeped out by it. Best I can work it out, it is Sebastian in a pensive mood, thinking of his once Young Master, long after he is gastronomic history.
...
Daemon Vincit
Days. Months. Years. Centuries. Millennia.
The seasons wash like waves over this otherworldly shore: ebbing, flowing, high, then low, eternally tumbling the silver sand, the precious particles of once discrete matter that made up lives of individuals, nations, eras, now all ground fine. Once significant, now all of them, all of it worn down to their common, elemental particles, bland, consistent, undifferentiated, never-ceasing, without variance or distinction, era after era, world without end, Amen.
Amen: so be it. It is the ultimate capitulation to what Will Be, what has always been, ever was, ever will be, with little to no variance, the unique features rubbed smooth like stones by the passing of the never-ending years in Time's rushing river. This is what the eyes of a demon beholds and why, when he looks at you, he seems to be simultaneously looking through you to another shore, to parallel worlds—because in fact he is.
It is the curse, the blessing, the ultimate truth, the reality and existence of those who cannot, will not, who refuse to end.
This is Eternity. This is what it means to be what I am.
Except...
Except very rarely, that great ocean of existence coughs up, spits out and washes up a rare treasure. A shining bit of coral, a glimmering speck of green amber, a precious, lustrous pearl, rare and thrilling, a find which deserves whispered over in awe and reverence, greedily hoarded, snatched up and run away with, never shared, kept in one's interior rooms far from the eyes of the common and the squalid, and certainly never swallowed down simply for sustenance. Only a monster would do such a thing, a monster with no sense of value whatever, a creature of pure selfishness who reduces all things to the currency of his own personal lusts.
Especially not when one truly needs nothing to sustain one's life, when one's own fiery spark will burn on regardless, a flame incapable of extinguishment, even if one earnestly wishes it extinguished, a life so fiercely enduring it could continue without ever consuming a single thing, ever.
To take for food one of the earth's rarest treasures, to use it for common fodder as if it were merely another fruit de la mer, that is the ultimate sin. That is, in essence, the definition of a monster.
I am such a one and such a sin is my own, for which there is no reprieve, nor pardon, nor mercy. Nor should there be, for its magnitude is beyond comprehension or calculation.
Some beings are so utterly foul the only fitting punishment is to force them to exist eternally, acutely aware of what an insult to existence they truly are. Thus, I am, and thus I will continue, world without end. Amen.
Nor would I have it any other way.