A/N: Requested by I Am The River King. I do hope this pleases you c;
To hunger was a miserable thing.
I could feel it now, sated but ever-present, curling in the depths of my belly while it bides its time. It would return- the hunger always did.
But I am old.
I am old, and I have come to know my hunger like I know my rivers; we have an understanding, hunger and I. I do not resent the beast in my belly any longer.
And when it does return, I cannot deny that I am not somewhat pleased, because there is a certain joy in the dealings with humans; they are quick-witted and sharp-tongued, most of the lot that seek me, and those who are not are earnest in that pure, untouched sort of way. None of them were the same. No, each human had that extra something to them that set them apart, and I delighted in their fantasies and witticisms and stories and desires. It was hard for me to decide which I liked more- the selfish ones who sought me to quench a hunger of their own, or the naïve individuals that timidly pleaded for my aid. I suppose it doesn't matter much either way, although I think I am a bit partial to those like me, who know hunger as I do and want nothing more than to sate it.
Because sinners or saints, wicked or honest- they all tasted the same.