[His voice, smooth as always, breaks in mid-sentence. There's a certain jovial quality to it, as if he's enjoying himself. As he speaks, the soft sound of creasing paper mingles with the crunch of snow underfoot.]--oor William
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One I find myself on the receiving end of, often enough. At times I wonder what is more maddening, the righteous 'truths' they claim and cling to, or the dull, bovine way they shuffle to the next web of false truths when the old has been torn away.
As do I. Whenever their thoughts and deeds horrify them, they blame it on me. It's so much easier than taking responsibility for themselves. It also avoids the frightening prospect of thinking, which in my experience is something they do their damnedest to avoid. Every few centuries, I do seem to stumble upon one or two that break the mold, but it is a rare thing.
Choosing scapegoats are certainly a habit of theirs as well. The humans of Nosgoth sought to hunt my kind to extinction, not realizing the role we played in holding back a far more... merciless force.
[There's a touch of sarcasm, most notably on the last word.]
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[There's a touch of sarcasm, most notably on the last word.]
You have my sympathies.
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