Some days, it was hard to get out of bed, much less muster any enthusiasm about doing the same monotonous thing for centuries if he was lucky, hours if he wasn't…although there were days when he thought the luck of those options was the opposite. Days when there was nothing new, nobody to live for. Nobody to put on a cheerful face for.
It was always worse when he died. No matter how much the others swore they felt normal when they woke up, he was always chilled, a bone-deep chill from his body temperature dropping as he spent time as a corpse and made him want to just stay dead when he came back to life. It never went away quickly, either, always lingering and making him lethargic and disinterested in anything, even trying to act normally as he did under any other circumstances.
He was surprised, every time he broke out of his post-revival funk, that he hadn't been killed for good. It was what every Immortal wanted, an unresisting Immortal at their mercy, right? But then, chaos had always dogged his steps, so maybe he shouldn't be so surprised when the unlikeliest things happened around him.
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