It killed him not to know this, but he'd all but just forgotten what the color of her eyes were and her scars or how she got them. Her face was fading from his thoughts, along with all humanity, slowly draining from the empty cavity of where his heart ought to be. He didn't need love, pity, remorse. Those were emotions for the weak. Those were emotions that drove him to this land of ice, of unfeeling, of loyal obedience, of power. The telling signs of time gone by blurred the quickly fading memories kept behind his cold blue eyes of an ageless face the world had forgotten. And though he rarely thought of her he'd sometimes reach out at night to find himself alone and not where he longed to be. The longing would subside as soon as his consciousness took over, and the little rest he needed continued to diminish over the time he spent killing himself to prove his worth to the new voice that drove him. His new master in his new home.
