V.V. realized that, with all of the time in the world, even immortals get bored.
What is there to do? You could do anything. Start a revolution ( But that idea seemed to fail more often than not…), work on that one masterpiece (That wouldn't last as long as you.), fight until you can't fight anymore (But what would be the point?), or, you could do what he did.
Sit with his chin rested in his palms, practicing giving himself scoliosis. Bored eyes staring out past the pillars of the too gold, too Roman construction called the Sword of Akasha.
'Kill God' he said sixty years ago… What an ambition, surely that would take a lifetime? No, only fifteen minutes, give or take the fact such a divine entity would surely catch on and stop it from happening, right?
Over such a small lie?
He wondered if it was worth it, to destroy the world for revenge, or to bring people away from their lies and masks… Wasn't it made the way it was supposed to be?
No, it was that wreched woman that caused it all, wasn't it?
Who was he kidding, who can you blame for something like this? You could back track, and say "It was the one who killed my mother" but then they could retort – "But it could never be my fault, I am but man!" and it would simply racquet back and forth, growing more and more troublesome by the minute.
Which brought him to another thought, did he have another reason for killing the 'sweet' woman called Queen? Or was it all jealousy, and greed? Wouldn't that, in turn, make him as bad as the thing he was trying to get rid of in the first place?
No, not the woman, the concept: the idea of lying and masks and sinning.
So, he thought, so, so, so. I have put myself into the exact thing I had been trying to remove.
He pouted. Squinting his eyes against the midday sun, clear blue sky spanning across the villa that he was nestled almost-contently-but-not-really in.
V.V., you digressed again, he thought harshly, reaching for a cup of lemonade and sipping it.
"Then, when did it start?" He muttered, setting the cup down and spinning little circles on the table with his small fingers.
It started when time began. That's all there was to it.
And when time began, the world fell into disarray and disorder. And he wasn't going to blame it on the woman this time. Even the woman had her merits, right?
He bit his lip.
"Did it again." He mumbled quietly, this time less harsh than before.
He pulled his mind from the subject of blame, that's not how his thinking began; it shouldn't end that way too.
With all of this time, what did he want to do with it? That was the question. He had already seen more than sixty years of people working with the time given to them, sometimes failing to complete their goal… And then there was still those whom history had been kind to remember, they spent their time exploring, conquering, thinking, building, rising up and crashing back down, all with the same fervor as the day before.
"Hmmn." V.V. stood up, walking to the edge of the porch and stepping lightly down the steps, his hair sweeping behind him. It was another thing he had dared himself to do in his endless amounts of boredom – why not see how long you can get your hair?
Although, what he would do afterward was unknown, he would decide when he got sick of the unneeded weight.
Raising an eyebrow thoughtfully, he walked a bit towards the garden that was off to his left, a brick archway showing the entrance.
Surely there was someone more experienced to answer his question, and he always knew just the person. Even the rather frayed relationship was held together by small wires of just simple experiences – watching the sun rise, eating out when they got sick of the lovey-dovey couple, standing out in the middle of a downpour because they knew even if they got struck by lightning, it most certainly wouldn't kill them… heck, he was pretty sure they just did stupid things in general because they could, and he admitted that those were some of the best moments in his droll life, when he forgot what he was going to do afterward, and instead understood the true meaning of time, and the value of this day and the next.
Leaning over the short oak gate within the arch, he peered around for a second, resting on his arms until he saw who he was looking for amidst the array of flora and fauna of every rose known to man.
"If man had as much time as us, what would he do with it, C.C.?"