“Tsk-tsk,” says the Nightwatcher, slowly shaking her head. “Immortality. How predictable. Just like every other storming human that has come here. You know,” says the Nightwatcher, slowly moving towards you, “immortality is really overrated. You live the same days over and over again. You learn everything there is to learn. You lose your mind a couple of times, but it always comes back. And with it comes pain. Raw, horrid, pain. Because you know that you’re stuck. There’s nowhere left for you to go. No happiness, no Beyond, nothing. Take me, for example. The only thing that keeps me sane is by granting the boons for the foolish wishes of men and women, and devising the most cunning banes that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. Or in your case, eternity.” By this point, the Nightwatcher is inches away from your face. “So, if it’s really immortality you want, then that is what you will receive. You will live forever... but for your bane, you shall be forced to listen to Nyan Cat music for the rest of forever!”
The Nightwatcher’s laughter is the last thing you hear before the “meows” drown out the horrid noise.
I wish to not get sick this winter break.