Posted in Headcanon

3 A.M. Thoughts

She can’t sleep, again. Which is odd, because she should be tired out of her mind after her endless travels, never ending crusades, and ever growing kill counts. To be candidly honest, she is spent beyond measure.

Still she can’t sleep.

Because lying awake in bed, in the middle of the night, apparently still sent her brain into an overdrive and he still its favorite subject. Because even when she try to think of someone else, she always ended up comparing anyone else to him, wondering whether or not she would ever find solace in their embrace the way she found home in his arms.

She wonder, sometimes, whether or not he knows what kind of hell he condemned her to when he decided to leave. She supposed she should find it funny, him being the one who at last decided to leave. She could vividly recalls how adamant he was on telling her that people never left her by choice. People never left because they wanted to or needed to, nor because they’re tired of her or because they think she’s not good enough or doesn’t worth the fight. They left because circumstances forced them to.

Yet, ironically, it was him who decided to upped and leave. Not because of circumstances or life and death threat or some ill-fated responsibilities getting in their way, but merely for whatever reason his silly little brain conjured.

Regardless, she have to admit he had served his purpose in this grand scheme of fate.


He is the wake up call she needed, the final piece of puzzle to fall into place and completed her cognizance. A reminder of her ineptitude.

An admonition of how, at the end of the day, nothing matters.

It doesn’t matter how much she love him or care for him, in spite of their commitments and promises they made,  regardless of how devoted and faithful she was to him, despite him saying that he is hers as much as she is his, even if she fought with tooth and nails to last essence of her Bloodstone…

He would eventually leave. Just like everyone else before him, and anyone who may come after him.


Which is why she’d be better off if she stop trying and just… give up. On people altogether.



Ten thousand years is a long time to spend alone, but she don’t think she’ll ever run out of monsters to kill and battles to fought for.

And unlike people, she knows this is something that would never cease to be and left her with dull void where she heart used to be.

Worst come to worst, she’d just ended up gutted or beheaded like one of her unfortunate adversaries.



With that resolve in mind, she takes another two of her sleeping pills and let slumber claim her, at last.






À la mort.




An emotionally invested enthusiast of pop culture. Apathetic by design. Aesthetically offensive and eloquently candid. A sentimental heathen.

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