Looking in the mirror, he saw his reflection. Jon was, physically, exactly the same as he had been fifty years ago. Immortality, as well as some of his subsequent wishes, meant that his body didn't change unless he willed it so. An essential part of that was movement; he'd realized, several decades ago, how monumentally stupid his wish had been, and was very grateful that the stone hadn't frozen him for the rest of time to fulfill the wish.
As he looked at his reflection, he saw shadows behind his eyes, remnants of the terrible things he'd done and allowed to be done. Shaking his head, he turned away. No use brooding on it now... he thought, for his voice had gone unused for years. Jon saw no point in speaking to the air while in exile. The inner echo of an unvoiced laugh spread through him. How ridiculous.
He wandered quite aimlessly, and slowly, through the empty house which had once been home to his family and, for the shortest of times, Karyn. As he walked he marveled once again at the stillness of his body. All vital signs were gone; his blood no longer ran, his heart no longer beat, not a single synapse in his brain fired, and countless other sensations most do not even notice for they begin before birth had ceased in him decades ago.
All his organs were dead weight he'd removed long ago, and replacing them was the presence of the stone, nestled physically within his ribcage. Its near-limitless power had replaced its greatest limit with that of confinement in a human body. Unimaginable power moved through him, at his mental beck and call, power which now affected the entire planet and the moon's distance beyond, as far as a human vessel could extend it. Lately, he had had no use for it. An immortal exile had no needs, and few wants.
