(Tagging language, sexual themes, and depression)
There were few things in life that could catch Chrysies off guard anymore. She’d experienced life – humanity – eventually it became predictable. Humans, those that knew their mortality, claimed the immortals were the ones without Chaos. She had found that was not so much the case. Humans fancied themselves snowflakes, but even snowflakes took predictable shapes. Maybe the immortals had lost their connection to unpredictability, maybe everyone had. At the end of the day pondering that quandary fell so far outside of her job description that she just let it go.