Another day, another prompt. I'm looking for a female partner to join me in a scene I've been contemplating for a few days. This one is modern, and while there aren't witches and warlocks running around, there's something of a fantasy element to it. As before, here's the criteria: Please be somewhat experienced and capable of moving the plot forward as well At least one good-sized paragraph per post Be available to post at least once every two to three days. If you aren't that frequent, try to add extra meat to your posts for me to be able to respond to. I'd prefer you be 18+, if only because playing romance with a minor feels a bit weird. I don't imagine the scene itself will be exceedingly salacious, though. As before, if you're interested, PM me. In the meantime, I'll set up an OoC page that will be added to as details are fleshed out. For now, here's the general plot: Society has always placed a Catch-22 on the concept of immortality. First and foremost is the notion that immortality comes directly by the hand of another. Vampires are immortal, but their "condition" comes at the hand of another nightstalker. Frankenstein's Monster is immortal, at the behest of the mad doctor himself. Thus, immortality was certainly NOT natural, to say the least. Second was that immortality itself was a curse. Well, this was partially true, but not for longevity. Rather, consistent exposure has a way of desensitizing one of something. Humanity was no different; expose someone to several lifetimes of humanity, and it becomes as dull to the senses as an exceedingly familiar food on the surface of the tongue. It blunts, like steel, until it only can be seen as a bludgeon for the sake of a construct long ago abandoned. Third, and perhaps most confounding, was the notion that immortality was a finish line. That to be immortal was to be immune to illness, to Death's cold touch, to all of the trappings that made humans so proud of themselves to experience. But, looking from the outside in, feeling your cells slowly wither and die at an ever-slowing pace, that sort of fanciful imagining could be excused. He realized that he was an Immortal in 1956. Of course, by then it was less a realization and more a refusal to allow denial any longer. He'd simply been denying that he had stopped aging, that he had been born twice his lifetime ago, that he should have been an old man (or in the grave) and yet still looked to be 30. Still felt 30. Still WAS 30 in all but mental capacity and wisdom. Of course, this lent him a particular need to move, to avoid remaining in one spot, 'lest he be discovered. Because despite his odd condition of not aging, he wasn't so sure a knife to the gut or a blade along the throat wouldn't snuff his lights for good. Time, then, had brought his wayward soul to the streets of many cities. Currently, his home was France. Paris, France, to be more specific. Saint-Germain-des-Prés, within Paris, France, to be increasingly narrowed. Life was a luxury that he quietly indulged in, never allowing himself to make too grand a statement or flaunt the comfortable pillow of liquid funds that followed him through his unending journey through life. Here, on these Parisian streets, he almost felt normality, a sense of kinship to the worn buildings and cobblestone roads. Not to mention, he suspected certain other Immortals like him roamed the City of Love. Obviously, there's a few more details to hash out, but we'll do that in PM and flesh the story completely in the OoC. If you're interested in playing this scene, PM me and we'll get it started!