Their choices defined their stories. Successes, failures, all accumulated into a warped, grosteque account of their past lives, then committed to paper, confining them to the pages of fiction to live out the remaining centuries.
He was apprehensive. Had been since Rhea betrayed him - a wound that neither bled nor left any scars, but cut into the marrow of his bones. It was thousands of years ago, a story that was engraved in time and would last longer than they would.
It was no longer relevant.
It was a choice that defined their stories.
His offer to treat what some might have considered a traitor to lunch was a sincere one. Whether he had any interest in what she might want from him, what she wanted to say, what she wanted him to say - that was another matter altogether.