[i] like a lamb to the slaughter

[unbiaseddeath]

I only know I am not dead because Murder cannot be killed. I was told that I am now a resident of this "New York;" I was unaware there was an old York. What can you tell me of this city aside from its lust for blood? I can feel their hunger and I want only to feed them. Tell me why I should not be allowed to continue my life's purpose

Comments

[justfivemore]

The old York is in England.

Eboracum to Eoforwic to Jórvík to Yerke, Yourke, Yarke and finally York. Interesting, no?

I do believe there are a great number of things you will find you are unaware of.

[unbiaseddeath]

Why so many changes?

Enlighten me.

[justfivemore]

Someone grows tired of a name or someone that speaks a different language gets tired of peace and changes everything.

Mortals are fickle. History is is built on murder, you should know.

[unbiaseddeath]

History is built of murder. Slaughter is the fabric on which history's tales are written. It is not a cause.

[inthe_past]

You beat me too it.

[unbiaseddeath]

You may inform me as well, if it would help you to feel better.

[inthe_past]

There isn't much else to tell unless you want a detailed lecture which most people discourage me from. But this city was built on blood so I think you will always find a place here.

[unbiaseddeath]

What would you have to lecture me about?

[justfivemore]

My apologies, darling, I get rather bored at times. Coffee and books seem made for each other.

[inthe_past]

I believe I can forgive you. You're very right, I've found the coffee shops here are especially good for an escape from the complex.