dev 5 - reflection

Change. He used to think it was always something good, something... beneficial.

But this cursed flesh drove the Lich madder than he ever was, colder than he could ever be. Even now, no matter how much he tried to truly invest himself in the business of humanity, to improve Dawn's standing on Agartha as a whole... he just couldn't find any capacity for such empathy or care. Have the days of his prime passed? Maybe. That's what he thought, at least - but it could be very well the beginning of something else entirely.

Peace and quiet. It's all he needed at the moment.

Distancing himself away from the public, the Lich walked to solitude of the nature and greenery- but even as he walked by, that greenery seemed to wilt and wither, corrupted by immense Necromantic energy that he was surrounded with. Even now, he pondered what it is he's become... and whether it was truly worth to take such step. One could almost assume that he regrets it, but...

In truth? He didn't know. He didn't feel anything about it.

He tried to draw a breath, only to remember his lungs do not function. He tried to blink, only to remember his eyes are long gone. Nothing seemed to matter, and yet he's here, to reflect and meditate upon what he's become. Greater paths comes from inner conviction and acceptance, after all.
(Arthur Rowan)

The night sky was brilliant. It would almost be a shame to end the existence as it is... not that Lich King planned on it, because you cannot rule over nothingness. Still, with ever increasing threat of his enemies putting a stop to his plans, he realized that he must become something else, something... a lot more threatening, menacing. Something that would ensure he would not be stopped, no matter what.

"Is it wrong I cannot feel anything..."

A question, directed at particularly no one. Even now, he could feel the temptation to simply spread the power of lightning over himself, to cast the fuel onto the fires of energy that warped him... it's not that it altered his consciousness that much, it's the fact that it made him... unfeeling. Despite his attempts to resist it, after all that he's spoken to Salthiel about, he finds himself slowly sinking into the state that could be defined as nothing else but--

Monstrosity.

"It might be wrong... but it feels so right."

The pass of the shock coursed through his body, much like you'd expect it to do; the blues in his eyes flared up, and with every passing moment, his concerns were floating away, somewhere far deep in his mind... a state in which he could not care about anything in particular, be it the last shreds of his humanity or the people that stood by his side.

It simply didn't matter anymore.
(Arthur Rowan)

With all on his mind, didn't he have a right to abolish such care anyway?

So much time passed. How long has it been already? Despite him remembering his age, every year... certain memories are becoming fuzzy, unable to recover. Some memories become lost part of his greater consciousness, and as result, all things that made him human are slowly eroding. Even now, he wonders how much it would take until he would become wholly unfeeling. And yet, they return...

'Hush now. You've done a lot.'
'You deserve your rest.'
'They do not deserve your attention.'

Everything that Salthiel was speaking about, all these people living their lives... surely, they were feeling, they were still meaningful to one another in some way or another, but to Arthur they were nothing. They were just another patch of lifeforce to drain, just a food to feast upon, something to hopefully recover his body. Perhaps, one day...

"No beast so fierce, and yet knows touch of pity..."
"But I know none, therefore am no beast."

A realization of other things to come dawned upon him, and comprehension cleared furrow on his face. If he were unfeeling, then things like fear would become entirely obsolete, unnecessary... this would be his greatest time.
(Arthur Rowan)