caveat emptor.

Maybe it never left. 

Oh, it is. We need a third person for our halloween costume. I can’t imagine you’ve ever not taken yourself seriously. But that’s what it’s worth. We’ll trade, alright Captain?

Prove it.

Wow, I leave for a few weeks and you’re a new man! Clarity? What is it that I’ve been unclear about? 

For a moment, in spite of, or perhaps because of your distress, you showed a glimmer of clarity regarding your nature. I wish it would return.

I know it isn’t. And I’m surprised how many people don’t see it for what it is. 

The woman picked up her bag, heading down to the shop that was owned by Alexander. She had a couple things for him, not wanting to tear away anything he held dear. And that was flattering enough that he’d want to give it to her. Though she knew how society had been completely enamored with her civilization, and she couldn’t blame them. Her country had been the powerhouse, the one that ruled them all. Shaking her thoughts, Isis stopped when she reached the shop, looking in the window for a brief moment. The things he had collected over the years were gorgeous, she’d admit that. As someone who had lived through most of the ancient civilizations, she knew how to appreciate them. Pushing the door open, Isis glanced around once more for Alexander. She bit her bottom lip briefly, admiring the cameos that had been placed meticulously around the store. “Alexander, you have got some fine treasures, don’t ya?” she said that mainly to herself, though if Alexander had been anywhere near her, she knows he’d have heard it.

She was a mystery indeed. It was clear that she had sculpted herself, both in physique and persona over the centuries, but unlike the little masks the rabble wore, hers was clearly crafted and significantly less obvious than "virgin" or "whore". In his own life, he had realized that there were only two states of being: affectation and carelessness. Affectation was an art, a pure and sincere form of expression. It took him time and effort to build the charm that trapped his favorite kind of victim. She, too, must have a favorite kind of soul, and in some way or another her appearance and manner reflected it.

He gave a self-satisfied smile as she admired the display, only moderating it slightly as she approached.

"I had hoped you would share my interest in a quality bas-relief," he watched her as she glanced at the wooden lamb. In truth he didn't care for keepsakes from his past. If he tried to remember everything and every moment of his life with one trinket or another he would be buried in them by now. Nevertheless, there was the lamb, and he liked the idea that he could commodify the thing he had the most of: time.

He resisted the urge to make a joke -- leave it to a succubus to think of every interaction in terms of sex-- it felt petty, and for once he was as hungry for knowledge as he typically was for pain.

"Shall we mix the two?" he proffered one of the glasses with one hand while touching the box holding the cartouche in the other, "I've always found that an exchange proceeds more smoothly when lubricated with alcohol and good conversation."

He opened the box, the cartouche, small but gleaming, revealed. His smile mirrored its effulgence.

You asked, I answered. So let’s not pretend the whole conversation wasn’t orchestrated so such a statement, like you’ve just made, could be used against me. 

Oh do you? Have you found a man over the age of five with a penchant for musicals?

I have no intention of holding your little episode against you.  If anything, I'd prefer that you showed some part of the clarity you demonstrated then.

It’s fine, man. We all get like that sometimes. I mean, it was just yesterday that I poured salt in like six peoples coffees because they were being asses. Their reactions were priceless.

It feels so good to be back!

It's a shame, really, that existence is so utterly painful for so many that it must be viewed through a haze. If they had any idea of its value or its brevity, they would horde every moment of clarity and stick themselves with pins to stay awake.

Are you going to copy everything I say?

Thank you. I do prefer your open hostility to your whining about what a terrible daughter you were.