The Mourning Angel
"What is the meaning of this thing we call life? Or, what was it? I can't seem to fully remember..." His silhouette darkened, speaking with an eerie voice that seemed to hold knowledge and authority beyond mortal reason. "I must have forgotten. Just what, exactly, was the reason for my evolution? What was the point of it all?..."
The being clad in black, his face hidden by long, uncared hair, sighed numerous times, simply gazing at the pale sky, mourning. Actions only a being who has lost all purposes through the pursuit of the greatest of purposes, could ever find himself doing repeatedly, without rest. "Ah, that's right. I could not stand the thought of being forgotten, nor forget. As such, death has always been a thing I've tried to avoid the most. However, it seems that now, when I have finally rid myself of death's fate, that I long for it the most..."
His voice bore a more sorrowful tone then before, now a whispering cry of regret, "How meaningless it all was."
His voice hollow and solemn, spoke with a wise pitifulness, "Without death to seal its final breath, life is but a river without mouth nor ocean, cursed to twist through endless lands, never finding rest and purpose alike."
