"This is grief. I'm watching human grief. It's like offal in my mouth...
If the world is truly overrun by humans...then I have work to do..."
The world is changed. It's not how I left it. It is overrun by vermin, the muck that eats it's self. It is...depressing. I have been stripped of my powers, made weak by human devices. I'm not as I once was, I am less then whole, imperfect, defective. It is sickening how far I have fallen.
Long ago, it feels so long now, I was a god. Ruler of all. Beings trembled at my feet. It was wonderful. But, no longer. It is gone, has been gone for a long time.
A very long time.
The master's bellows comes to me, a lowly servant. I've served his side for as long as I can remember now. He is not an unjust god, a bit demanding but I've seen and heard of worse.
Or maybe that's just me. But, it is of no consequence. I have my lot in life and it is that of a servant.
These thoughts tumble like pebbles as I ascend the staircase to my master's quarters, his summons long since past. I had been...distracted. It is of no importance now.
Reaching the door, my knock resounds in the staircase, the faint flickering torches a pale effigy of daylight. It's always dark here. I loathe it.
The door faintly creaks with it's opening, and stepping inside, I am overcome with nausea and a small gasp of shock escapes.
Blood pools at my feet, the ground is steeped in it. The walls bear witness as I step into the wasteland. Bodies are strewn everywhere, in every fashion. Most of them ripped to pieces, entrails littering the floor.
It's enough to make bile rise in my throat.
"Master?" I cautiously gasp out between the feeling of sickness that has rested upon me. Surely he cannot be dead. He is strong and powerful, he could not have been cut down. "Are you here?"
Silence.
Death.
I continue my search, forcing myself to look at the bodies, searching for my master's familiar features, hoping I won't find them. My feet slowly dampen as my boots soak up the blood around me.
I wish I'd never happened upon this.
I wish I'd never been a servant.
I wish...
Memories slip by me like fog, small and indistinguishable. So many lives, so many memories. Some more pleasant than others. Blood and death their constant companions. It is uplifting.
Walking the halls of the Wolf, Ram, and Hart, I become ignored. Barely noticed. It is unsettling. Silently, I loathe the humans for causing me such grief. They are not worthy of my mere presence, let alone my power.
It is the frailty of their species which caused my fall in the first place.
The battlefield is thick with smoke and sweat lingers on my brow. My arm aches with the weight of the sword, my only companion. The horse's calls have long died out, the cavalry is not coming.
I can see fire distantly, almost smell it as it brings death.
I cannot retreat, the enemy is lingering there, waiting to take me down. The fire is slowly eating ground towards me. It is all but hopeless.
I face the enemy, with their gleaming armor and polished swords, tarnished in the blood of my people.
If I am to go, let me go down fighting.
I have seen many lives in my time, held many within my grasp. Balancing them between life and death, relishing in their pleas. I believe I hold this in common with the half breeds.
Disgusting.
Focus.
Think it through.
Examine the facts, piece them together.
Find the answer.
Focus.
The Betrayer. My Betrayer. He looks at me with grief. It hangs off of him like rotted flesh. I wish to stop it's stench, hanging heavy in the air.
The others do not have it, the half breeds and the demon. They are free of this shell, this Winifred Burkle.
Wesley is not. It is...unpleasant.
The forces of good and evil are ever warring, ever striving to conquer the other. Because that's all there is. War and strife, victory and defeat. It touches everything, leaving it's mark upon it. The world is covered in it. The Powers know this. The Senior Partners know this.
Hell, they made it.
Worship. I miss the adoration. The simple pleasure in having ones needs fulfilled without question, without comment. Surprising how one can forget how easy it can be taken away.
I am nothing more then a dust mote in this world, a grain of sand, a cliff note in history. It is unbearable. And yet, I cannot change it, I have lost that chance. I have lost everything.
Nothing is left for me, nothing except the challenge, the game. It plagues me with it's possibilities, the endless paths that one may take. I am compelled to follow these paths, if only one of them I can follow now.
Before, I could travel as many paths as I chose, relishing the darkness and the light, the world at my fingertips. Many worlds in fact. It was so easy to look beyond, see what could be, what was, what is.
But now, I have but one path to follow, only one path I can see. These restrictions chafe at my skin, this human skin. But I must bare it, because I still can see no other way. Not anymore.
The battle is always fought.
The battle is always there.
It doesn't matter who wins or who loses, in the end it will all change.
Nothing ever stays the same.
So, it all comes down to this:
If nothing of what we do matters, then all that matters is what we do.
It used to be simple. There was life, there was death, there was me. God to a god, ecstasy in the power of death. Ruler of all. I was power beyond description....it was good.
It is gone.
"It cannot last. We'll be found."
"That doesn't matter anymore. We're dead either way."
"Don't say that."
"It's the truth."
"How did it come to this? How could we let it come to this?"
"I don't know, my love. I don't think we ever really had a choice. I don't think anyone ever really does."
I had a lover once. Nothing special, very brief. Pointless, but I wished to explore the thing they called 'love'.
I grew tired of him quickly.
He did not last very long afterwards, pity. I had wished to make him scream.
"I've nowhere to go. My kingdom is long dead. Long dead. There's so much I don't understand. I become overwhelmed. I am unsure of my place....perhaps, but I exist here. I must learn to walk in this world....We cling to what is gone. Is there anything in this life but grief..."
If the world is truly overrun by humans...then I have work to do..."
The world is changed. It's not how I left it. It is overrun by vermin, the muck that eats it's self. It is...depressing. I have been stripped of my powers, made weak by human devices. I'm not as I once was, I am less then whole, imperfect, defective. It is sickening how far I have fallen.
Long ago, it feels so long now, I was a god. Ruler of all. Beings trembled at my feet. It was wonderful. But, no longer. It is gone, has been gone for a long time.
A very long time.
The master's bellows comes to me, a lowly servant. I've served his side for as long as I can remember now. He is not an unjust god, a bit demanding but I've seen and heard of worse.
Or maybe that's just me. But, it is of no consequence. I have my lot in life and it is that of a servant.
These thoughts tumble like pebbles as I ascend the staircase to my master's quarters, his summons long since past. I had been...distracted. It is of no importance now.
Reaching the door, my knock resounds in the staircase, the faint flickering torches a pale effigy of daylight. It's always dark here. I loathe it.
The door faintly creaks with it's opening, and stepping inside, I am overcome with nausea and a small gasp of shock escapes.
Blood pools at my feet, the ground is steeped in it. The walls bear witness as I step into the wasteland. Bodies are strewn everywhere, in every fashion. Most of them ripped to pieces, entrails littering the floor.
It's enough to make bile rise in my throat.
"Master?" I cautiously gasp out between the feeling of sickness that has rested upon me. Surely he cannot be dead. He is strong and powerful, he could not have been cut down. "Are you here?"
Silence.
Death.
I continue my search, forcing myself to look at the bodies, searching for my master's familiar features, hoping I won't find them. My feet slowly dampen as my boots soak up the blood around me.
I wish I'd never happened upon this.
I wish I'd never been a servant.
I wish...
Memories slip by me like fog, small and indistinguishable. So many lives, so many memories. Some more pleasant than others. Blood and death their constant companions. It is uplifting.
Walking the halls of the Wolf, Ram, and Hart, I become ignored. Barely noticed. It is unsettling. Silently, I loathe the humans for causing me such grief. They are not worthy of my mere presence, let alone my power.
It is the frailty of their species which caused my fall in the first place.
The battlefield is thick with smoke and sweat lingers on my brow. My arm aches with the weight of the sword, my only companion. The horse's calls have long died out, the cavalry is not coming.
I can see fire distantly, almost smell it as it brings death.
I cannot retreat, the enemy is lingering there, waiting to take me down. The fire is slowly eating ground towards me. It is all but hopeless.
I face the enemy, with their gleaming armor and polished swords, tarnished in the blood of my people.
If I am to go, let me go down fighting.
I have seen many lives in my time, held many within my grasp. Balancing them between life and death, relishing in their pleas. I believe I hold this in common with the half breeds.
Disgusting.
Focus.
Think it through.
Examine the facts, piece them together.
Find the answer.
Focus.
The Betrayer. My Betrayer. He looks at me with grief. It hangs off of him like rotted flesh. I wish to stop it's stench, hanging heavy in the air.
The others do not have it, the half breeds and the demon. They are free of this shell, this Winifred Burkle.
Wesley is not. It is...unpleasant.
The forces of good and evil are ever warring, ever striving to conquer the other. Because that's all there is. War and strife, victory and defeat. It touches everything, leaving it's mark upon it. The world is covered in it. The Powers know this. The Senior Partners know this.
Hell, they made it.
Worship. I miss the adoration. The simple pleasure in having ones needs fulfilled without question, without comment. Surprising how one can forget how easy it can be taken away.
I am nothing more then a dust mote in this world, a grain of sand, a cliff note in history. It is unbearable. And yet, I cannot change it, I have lost that chance. I have lost everything.
Nothing is left for me, nothing except the challenge, the game. It plagues me with it's possibilities, the endless paths that one may take. I am compelled to follow these paths, if only one of them I can follow now.
Before, I could travel as many paths as I chose, relishing the darkness and the light, the world at my fingertips. Many worlds in fact. It was so easy to look beyond, see what could be, what was, what is.
But now, I have but one path to follow, only one path I can see. These restrictions chafe at my skin, this human skin. But I must bare it, because I still can see no other way. Not anymore.
The battle is always fought.
The battle is always there.
It doesn't matter who wins or who loses, in the end it will all change.
Nothing ever stays the same.
So, it all comes down to this:
If nothing of what we do matters, then all that matters is what we do.
It used to be simple. There was life, there was death, there was me. God to a god, ecstasy in the power of death. Ruler of all. I was power beyond description....it was good.
It is gone.
"It cannot last. We'll be found."
"That doesn't matter anymore. We're dead either way."
"Don't say that."
"It's the truth."
"How did it come to this? How could we let it come to this?"
"I don't know, my love. I don't think we ever really had a choice. I don't think anyone ever really does."
I had a lover once. Nothing special, very brief. Pointless, but I wished to explore the thing they called 'love'.
I grew tired of him quickly.
He did not last very long afterwards, pity. I had wished to make him scream.
"I've nowhere to go. My kingdom is long dead. Long dead. There's so much I don't understand. I become overwhelmed. I am unsure of my place....perhaps, but I exist here. I must learn to walk in this world....We cling to what is gone. Is there anything in this life but grief..."