TO LIVE IS _____

Do you remember when I told you that I wanted to die and take everyone with me? I meant it.

The Theater of Calliope. How ironic that he of all people found himself in a theater of all places. Thankfully, no performances were taking place at that moment in time, though who knew when that might change. He was the lone figure visible among the countless rows of seats facing the empty stage.

And there, he couldn't help but see the fool who'd played his part to the very end. All the way to what he believed was a satisfying conclusion. A conclusion he'd been forbidden to see with his own eyes. Maybe that was why that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach refused to go away. A number of meetings had cast doubt as to the fate of that wretched Star. Which, in essence, had meant that everything he'd worked for was rendered pointless.

Even then, no emotion stirred within him. Nothing beyond bitter disappointment and lethargy.

❝ Whatever it is you want, I do not have it. Whatever it is you wish to know, I have no answers. You would do well to take your business elsewhere. ❞

He'd already been reduced to have to speak to these wretches to make his feelings known. Simply avoiding these fools had proven to be a fruitless effort, however. So if this was the best way to to get the point across, then so be it.

That should have been the end of it. If he didn't feel it again. That all too frustrating sense of familiarity. When he turns his gaze towards the latest annoyance to have approached him, he.. Was forced to cast his gaze downward. A Lalafell. And once again, someone who was a complete stranger to him, much like the other. He would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. If he found it at all amusing.

The long search for a location to be rid of prying eyes had led him towards the Cotes Ward. More specifically, his trek had carried him all the way to a decently sized forest. The perfect place to fade from view and avoid unnecessary confrontation. Though still teeming with activity, he much preferred to be in the presence of animals than people.

His reprieve would seemingly be short-lived, however. Dulled though his senses were, it did not require too much effort to discern man from animal when it came to their presence. He had half a mind to simply leave then and there.. Had curiosity not stayed his hand. Difficult though it was to make out in his current state, the approaching soul felt.. familiar. Eerily so, despite seeming foreign at the same time.

The robed figure's eyes dart towards the approaching figure. Whether they happened upon him purposely or whether they just happened to stumble upon him by chance was unknown. And largely irrelevant. All that mattered was that he had never seen him before in his life. Though his appearance made it clear they stemmed from the same realm. And yet.. Something was still there. It takes a few moments of silent staring, almost glaring, before a few pieces fall into place. Perhaps not enough to come to a certain conclusion, but to form a solid hypothesis.

A soul that had stood before him mere moments before he awoke in this wretched place. One who'd stood before him many times, in fact. Directly in opposition to his every move. His every plan. Every disaster. It wasn't them, but it felt like them.

For a moment, it almost seemed as though he was.. deciding what to do next. At first his face contorts into a wretched smile, posture straightening and prepared to make some kind of exaggerated movement. Then he slumps. No theatrics, no. He can't bring himself to even care. Instead, he looks the other dead in the eyes. A wry smile plastered across his face.

It was becoming increasingly clear to him that far too many people in this realm knew nothing of personal boundaries. That, or they were far too inquisitive for their own good. So rather than sit and wallow in his absurd new fate, the robed man decided it'd be best to find somewhere more secluded.

Unfortunately for him, his search had landed him in what the locals referred to as the Golden Ward. If ever there was such a thing as sensory overload given form, this would be it. For him, at least. Too many smiling faces. Too much joy. Too much life. The sight of the beach alone would have driven him to wretch, if he still cared to engage in faux dramatics.

Most had been content to steer clear of him. His motionless, seated posture made clear that he had no intention of engaging with a single soul around him. Quiet and still, with an unreadable expression hidden beneath his cowl. The few that did were met with complete disregard at best. And an annoyed glare at worst.

Coming to terms with.. All of this was, for lack of a better word, tiring. No sooner had darkness enveloped him than his surroundings suddenly gave way to unfamiliar sights. In place of oblivion, bustling streets. In place of nothingness, life. But not that which he knew. Not that which he had held so much contempt for. And in the face of it all, he simply felt tired.