"Make a contract with me, and I can grant you any one wish." It had seemed so clear. Such an obvious choice. "Eh, is that the wish? Alright then." For years, your family had been growing apart, angrier and full of hatred for one another. It was like war. "Wh.... what is..." It had seemed like a dream come true. "It's forbidden for us to give advice, about what a wish should be." It had been too good to be reality, though you only understood after it was already too late. "Did I misunderstand what you asked? Or was it that you didn't think carefully enough about your wish? Are they not at peace, now?" It was, possibly, the fastest transformation into a Witch that had ever been. And maybe the quietest as well. Consumed with grief and despair, you did not lash out at the world, but drowned yourself deep beneath the earth, slumbering and gazing up at the world you had rejected. Until the day came that you were too hungry and pained to continue lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. And then, having sought a suitable despair to feed upon, you died, and your existence was used to purify one who understood nothing. And then you lived once more, staring up into the world you had rejected. And died again, when hunger drove you to rise. And once more you lived. The cycle continues. You have begun to think that something very odd is going on. No matter what you do, and how you die, will you continue to live? You're not sure you minded dying that much. If it had just been the once, it would have been one thing... You are Rochelle. The witch of Regret. A damned huge spider, or something really close to it. You never really liked arachnids, so you kind of regret what you've become in more ways than one... You are staring up from your 'Bed'. You've died more than once. But let us call this, for the sake of narration, life number one. The first, at least, that you have begun to think about how you keep dying, and then later, not-being-dead. --- [ ] Is there anything you want to do?