He had asked her so many questions about being a ghoul. How does it work? What is it like? At first she had thought it was some sort of perverted voyeurism, wanting to hear all the sordid details, but over time that perception had shifted.
What had happened to him was not with his consent, and it seemed he barely understood what had happened to him, and through discussions of that, she began to pick up on the feeling that ran underneath it all. The envy. She had someone who loved and cared for her, who taught her, and she had been given a choice.
He had no choice. His life had been wrenched from him in what was essentially a violent assault.
She wondered how many things the poor young man had done for the last time, with no knowledge that it had been the case.
She resolved that, when eventually it was decided it was time, she would do those last things consciously and carefully. She would watch the sunset from the Necropolis one last time.