The rain had been falling for exactly three hours.
Not "about three hours." Not "nearly."
Exactly. Arin knew this because the man across from him had said it the moment he sat down.
The café was nearly empty. A quiet place tucked between two streets no one really chose to walk down. The kind of place people ended up in, rather than went to.
Arin hadn't planned to come here. That thought lingered in his mind as he stared at the stranger.
"You've checked the clock six times," the man said, calmly stirring a cup of tea he hadn't yet tasted. "The seventh will be in… three seconds."
Arin frowned.
"…What?"
The second hand ticked, his eyes flicked—without permission—toward the wall clock.
Seven.
A silence followed.
Not awkward. Not tense.
Just… expected.
"Who are you?" Arin asked.
The man didn't look up. "Someone you've already met."
"I haven't."
"You have," he replied gently. "Just not like this."
The rain outside tapped against the glass in a steady, unchanging rhythm.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Arin leaned back. "Alright. Let's say I believe you. What do you want?"
The man finally looked up.
There was nothing remarkable about his face. No scars, no strange eyes, no overwhelming presence.
And yet, something about him felt… familiar.
"You came here," the man said.
"I told you, I didn't—"
"You did," he interrupted softly. "You always do."
Arin blinked. "What does that even mean?"
The man gestured lightly around the café, "The same hesitation before entering. The same seat. You always choose the one facing the door." A pause, "You like to know what's coming."
Arin's fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the table, "That's normal."
"Of course," the man nodded. "That's the point."
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rain did not change.
"You wake up at 7:12," the man continued, "Not because you have to… but because you always hit snooze twice."
A faint smile, "You tell yourself you'll stop doing that."
Arin said nothing.
"You take the longer route to work when you're thinking. The shorter one when you're not."
"You order something new… and regret it. Then return to the same meal the next time."
The man lifted his tea, "You call it preference." A sip, "I call it return."
"…You've been watching me," Arin said, quieter now.
The man shook his head, "I don't need to watch."
Another pause, this one heavier.
"Then what are you?" Arin asked.
The man set his cup down with precise care, "I am the reason your life feels predictable," he said.
"The weight behind habits. The pull toward what you've already done." His gaze didn't waver, "I am the path worn into the ground… simply because it's been walked before."
Arin's chest felt tight, "That's not an answer."
The man tilted his head slightly, "No," he agreed.
"It's a pattern."
The clock ticked.
The rain tapped.
Arin's foot bounced—once, twice—then stilled.
"…Can it change?" Arin asked.
It came out smaller than he intended.
For the first time, the man paused before answering.
"Yes," he said, and something in that single word felt… heavier than everything else.
"But you won't."
The café felt colder.
"Why not?" Arin pressed.
The man's expression didn't shift, "Because you're already thinking about leaving," he said.
"You'll stand up in… about ten seconds."
Arin didn't move, "…No, I won't."
The man nodded, almost approvingly, "You'll hesitate first."
Silence.
Nine seconds.
Arin stood up, the chair scraped lightly against the floor, his breath caught, "…I didn't—"
"You did," the man said gently.
Arin stared at him, something close to panic flickering beneath the surface.
"Sit back down," the man added.
"…Why?"
A faint smile, "Because you always second-guess leaving."
Arin hesitated.
Then slowly—
He sat.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rain continued, unchanged.
The man lifted his cup again, finally taking another sip. And for just a moment, just a fraction, the rhythm of the rain stuttered.
Tap.
…Tap.
The man's eyes flickered, almost imperceptibly.
Then—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Perfect again.
Arin didn't notice, but the man did.
And for the first time, The Constant looked… curious.
The Constant is inspired by the Endless from the DC universe.
The Constant embodies the belief that everything will eventually return to what has been
They are the habits you fall into, and can represent the struggle you go through to break break or change those habits.
As they are the physical embodiment of a universal concept, they have no true appearance, and can appear before you as either sex with an easily forgettable appearance, which is why I didn't get help to create this character sheet. I'm bad with words, which is the reason the others are as they are. With The Constant, however, so long as their abilities follow their namesake, like time feels like it's restarting, but it isn't, or being in their general area subtly reinforces literally any patterns, it doesn't really matter what's said about them.
I am curious if anyone will be able to write them well, so let me know if you use them. Just a reminder, a conceptual entity can't actually alter reality, they are beings bound to the concept they were born to, so no ability to create patterns with The Constant.