Pleased To Meet You[Yaksha/Ryuzawa]

Another day, and another riveting experience. Yaksha had heard it said that for immortals, time seemed to slow down, and everything grew so boring, so...routine. Almost mundane. Perhaps that was true to an extent, but Yaksha had lived 2500 years and still felt like there was an endless array of entertainments available to him. His performances had developed a sense of familiar ritual to them, but it was still an exceptionally invigorating ritual, one that left him feeling drained by the end, and paradoxically alight with some divine light from elsewhere.

Perhaps it was because he had spent the last 2000 years doing nothing, but everything about this place and this world was so spectacular to him. From the cheers of the impressed fans, those who fondly remembered things of centuries ago, stories passed on by their parents or grandparents so long ago it was hard to say if they were even true. From the incredible feeling of rolling even a peppermint across his mouth, leaving it delightfully cool and almost tingling. From the sensation of hands clasped into his own, and breathless adulations. All of it left Yaksha drowning in experiences denied him for centuries, for millenia in fact. And he couldn't imagine how anyone this old could actually feel some sort of boredom with this world. After 2500 years, after spending so many centuries drawing connections and patterns that could only make sense in his diseased mind, Yaksha was still driven to tears by how incredible humans could be.

Today, he was intent to share some tiny spark of that wonder with everyone present. He'd been doing it for a few months now, making his interests and intent quite clear; he wanted to bring to the modern age the dinosaurs of old, those fossils that had very nearly been forgotten by time. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair; as he did, it seemed to fill out and billow, leaving him with hair that looked like it weighed half a dozen pounds. His hand slid across his outfit next, slowly and carefully, as if he were brushing off motes of dust. As he did even his suit melded and shifted, leaving him looking the spitting image of another classic.

The curtain rose, and Yaksha stepped forward, clutching the microphone, and beginning to sing with every fiber of his being, with all the force and passion he could muster. He was far from a spectacular singer, and he knew it; his throat muscles were well-tuned to the task of emulating voices, but his actual range in the short term could use some work. But it was the pure and honest love for what he was doing that shone through more than anything, and...well, the appearance was what they really wanted, wasn't it? Who cared if this was more a lip-syncher than a singer? It was Bon Jovi dammit.

"It's all the same. Only the names'll change..."

Yeah, this was a pretty damn nice life. Yaksha could see himself holding onto it for a couple generations before he moved on.