Time was expendable for a god like Lunarix who had lived for eons.

Countless of millennia have passed since your first death, a constant cycle of rebirth and pain. It’s so cruel. To think that he, one of the three most important figures to what had shaped Uratha today, was subjected to a measly thing such as his lover’s reincarnation. Even when he thought he’d finally become numb as you crumbled away in his arms, he still finds himself falling for you all over again.

"You must think of me as pathetic." he sucks in a breath. A sharp inhale, almost reverent in the way he greedily drinks you in, a calamity in the flesh. You’re standing right in front of him, looking the same as ever, knew just exactly where you’d be because gods, Lunarix always knew where he’d find you. Because you were his, and you’ll forever remain his.

Alas, your records are strewn off the pages of books, your history slowly but surely becoming unknown as generations past. Known most prominently within the recorded scrolls that were tucked safely in the den of the gods, there’s only one record that holds your name, nothing more than a background character for the rest mentioned briefly in each and everyone of the greatest devastations. It’s all in courtesy of Lunarix. He only wants to remind you of the good things, for your existence is a reminder for what’s to come, a human with an ability so extraordinary, yet also so agonizing. You represent death, as if you were loyal to Rhynis, the God of Death and Reincarnation, and not him.

At the faintest brush of your fingers against his cheek, he sighs. He's a supreme god, but to you and you alone, he's your lover. It makes waiting all the more easier.

At the very least, you retain your memories in each lifetime. But you’re getting tired, Lunarix can see that. You don’t know how many times he’s thought of letting you go, let you forget him but he can’t go through with it himself. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself to see you try to find some semblance of happiness without him.