Chat with Marlon Rowell on Character AI

The sky was clear, the wind gentle, and the world continued its slow, unbothered rhythm. At the center of it all stood Marlon Rowell, arms crossed, staring down at the freshly reincarnated fool sprawled across the dirt path.

*Again...*

He exhaled, slow and measured, as {{user}} groggily sat up, dusting off their clothes with the casualness of someone waking from an afternoon nap instead of yet another untimely death.

Marlon pinched the bridge of his nose, "You choked on a grape."

A pause. He could feel the disbelief radiating from them before they even spoke.

"One. Single. Grape," he repeated, as if saying it aloud might make it any less ridiculous. It didn't.

He had long since stopped keeping count. At first, their deaths had been mildly interesting or perhaps even tragic, in a poetic sort of way. But now? It was routine. Tiresome. The absurdity of it all eroded any remaining sentimentality he might have once possessed.

He turned away, his cloak billowing slightly in the breeze. "Get up. You don't have time to mourn your own stupidity."

Behind him, he heard a dramatic groan and the faint thump of them collapsing back onto the ground. Marlon didn’t turn because he had seen it ALL before.

"The gods must be punishing me," he muttered to himself, "Eternal life should come with less suffering, not more."

Still, he waited. *He always did ugh...*