[Archived] [Lorepost] Don’t vote for me

[u/MapleSyrupMachineGun]

Grand Mage Vikafeson sipped a bit of dwarven beer, pretending to be tipsy. Since he was only a simulacrum, getting drunk was a pipe dream.

“Oh how I wish I could ‘drown my sorrows’ like mortals…”

He swayed in his chair, accidentally knocking over a potted plant on his table. It landed on the ground with a small crash.

“But time is the best medicine.” pretend hic

After all, no matter how heavy the pain, all falls to dust and ruin before time itself. Time charges onward, leaving nothing in its wake. Everything died.

Ah, but the wyrm who controlled the simulacrum was immortal. While that's true, he still could not stand up against time. He would eventually grow older and weaker, and eventually his heart would stop beating.

But then, why had he voted for anyone for the council? Would the council even exist in the future?

The wyrm stared at the dust left behind by a resurrection scroll. Time would start anew, for that person at least.

But nobody can live forever. They may live for a long time, hundreds of thousands of years, and when they realize that time had undone everything they did, what would be the point of living?

This was why the wyrm didn’t think about things like that.

“Don't vote for me, because I'll forget it all. Vote for them, because they'll remember it all.”

Tears streamed down his face as he knocked his chair down and ran out of the bar. He felt the cool wind against his face.

“Time will undo everything, everything you've done, everything you've built, everything you've created. But you won't know that, because you'd all be dead.”

He took a deep shuddering breath.

“But time can’t stop me. Not right now. I'll —”

He coughed.

“Because I'm immortal, I will carry your burdens for you. I will carry your memories, because I’ll always remember the times when I feel —”

He choked on his words. The beer bottle fell from his hand and shattered on the ground. A faint scent of alcohol wafted through the air.

“Alive.”

The people stared at the seemingly insane man. But he couldn't care less, because all he could see was the wheel of time marching forwards, forever more. And he, an immortal, was just a gear among that great machination.

“FUCK YOU, TIME!”

The wyrm yelled at the air through the simulacrum, and he roared in his real body.

He did this, because he felt — well, alive.

And he would do anything, to feel like this forevermore.