“That’s the blessing and curse of mortality, isn’t it. Your life is short, so you’re allowed to live it with little rhyme or reason. You can pay penance in your next life, or the one after that. When you live forever…” He looked out the window, gaze unfocusing as he regarded the blacks and grays, stone and steel, glass and iron of his city. Clouds continued to roll until they’d become bottom-heavy thunderheads. “You can’t say things you don’t mean. Words have consequences.”
I’ve always said as much, despite being mortal.
