#WritingWonders 8.27 — (CW: Frank talk.) Antagonist POV: What do you like the least about the place where you live?

/That everyone recognizes me./

It's by design, but also inevitable.

I've been 24 years old for so many centuries that they blur together. My looks come in and go out of fashion. At times, men think I'm genuinely attractive; there is certain biology human males can't mask. Nevertheless, they know who I am. I look, well, /distinctive/. You've seen my face in the newspapers, if not your history books. I always look the same. My wounds always heal and my memory always fades, making everything old new again. I'm recognized rightly as dangerous in so many ways. Men consider me unapproachable, not a woman with whom you might trifle to ask a night with, or spend a week in idle meaningless fun.

/I hate it!/ I destroyed and rebuilt civilization so nobody should be coerced, and I don't. I won't. Not ever!

My last fellow plotted to start an interstellar war against me. At least he didn't mind being a kept man all those years before!

I'm 24 years old. Twenty-four. Always. I know it affects my decisions, sometimes, and it makes me want to cry.

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