The day that the waters rose and I said goodbye to my friends as they discarded their drowning bodies, seemed like a thousand years ago. And it probably was.
Time has no meaning for an immortal, unless the immortal attaches love to it’s companion. The constraints and effects of time on an immortals loved one will be felt for an eternity of memory on the immortal oh so clever flood dodging Nephilim.
Each happy flowing vivid attached thought of your love, with her mortal life, to be followed by the memory of the draining life slowly sliding down the once beautiful mortal face.
The immortal, in this case.
Must learn not to attatch itself to anyone or thing. Unless it fancies feeling the complete heartbreak of losing a loved one, and forever remembering the feeling of being alone as you wake and ache along with your heart as you feel the space left by the one that completed your everlasting living.
Being immortal has to be extreme in it’s hurt, or it’s lonely path. Living without love forever seems a pointless path, a path set out by a selfish search to avoid the thing that will bring the life you wear meaning, that is to share.