"Not as strange as you think - just uncommon. There are those who find solace in me, but...I don't talk or show myself to just all of them. Those who meet me as children mostly think I was an imaginary friend. Few know better like you do."
They catch the shift in her tone and they chuckle, the thrum of a crow's wings. Gently, they pull her back so she is looking them in the eyes, catching the full force of one of those peculiar smiles.
"Now, now, Fran. You know all you have to do is call for me, and I will be there. You just haven't called me in a while, and so I have let you live. It isn't that I haven't paid you any attention."
She looks a little scolded, at that. They're right, of course. She's spent more time in Ithersta, is part of the problem. Time passes so oddly there, she can easily spend a year without even noticing.
She'd practically given up on her own world, by now. There's very little, if anything at all for her there.
"I'm being very silly, aren't I? How childish you must think me."
One hand gently moves to her chin, tilting her head so that she cannot look away. The grip is firm - their grip always seems that way, a reminder that they are powerful, inescapable, even in this soft moments - but not painful, and there is caring in their fierce blue eyes.
"I have known many lonely humans like you, but not many ask to see me, after a while. It's nice, to be thought of fondly. You aren't afraid, but you know you're not ready yet. Not a combination I see often at all."
Their touch is cold, but not uncomfortable. Their gaze is piercing, and leaves her breathless. She glances at their mouth for a moment, before looking back up to their eyes again. Curious. Considering.
"No, not quite yet. I don't think. Though sometimes I wonder, what it might be like to spend all my time here. I wouldn't be afraid. Not so long as you were here. And Itward. I should like very much too see Itward again. But then I would miss my friends in Ithersta."
That little glance is caught - they've seen it before. They know what it means. But they let her think it out, let her speak before nodding in understanding, still holding on to her.
"Wondering will happen, mein mädchen. But when it is time, you will know. You will see me when you did not call, and you will know."
"But even then, I wouldn't be afraid. I couldn't be, not if it were you. You'd take me by the hand and you'd lead me off, in your very sweet way. And tell me that I won't hurt anymore. And that will be a comfort."
Said with conviction, with certainty. They can give her that much, when her life has had so little. "I know you would never be afraid. You will come to me knowing what it all means. You call yourself childish, Fran, but you are mature beyond your years already."
"I never could be afraid. Not after what I've seen. You're the least frightening part of my life." She reaches up to cup her hand over their jaw, stroking her thumb over their cheek. To show she isn't afraid to touch them. To have them touch her.
"Tell me where you've been, lately? Where is the loveliest place you've visited, since I've seen you last."
Again, the warmth, and again, they lean into it, purring low in their throat.
She asks the question...and they think for a moment or two before making a decision, shifting a little to indicate they mean to get up. "Why don't we have this conversation somewhere else? If you would like to go somewhere new."
There is a twinkle in their eyes, a spark of something not usually present.
Once they are certain they won't be flinging her off of them, they stand - holding out a hand to help her up once they have their footing, and then offering their arm once she is on her feet as well.
"It is a surprise, Fran. But it's not somewhere I take just any one. You must promise me not to try to leave until you are escorted once we are there, ja?"
"Oh, rules," she sighs, letting them help her up and brushing her skirt off once she's standing. "I swear not to leave your side the entire time, would that satisfy you?"
"That would imply that I do not trust you where we are going," they retort, gently, beginning to lead her along. "I do. But yes, there are rules, and I need you to follow that one. That's all I ask."
They lead her, smiling faintly, around the tree where they had been sitting - weaving this way and that, one way and another, around trees as if they were doing a slalom -
Until moving around one more, and...there is something that wasn't there before.
A door, dark and shimmering, with two stoic figures on either side. They bear a resemblance to Der Tod, save for the dark wings folded against their backs - and both look to Fran with concern on their faces. "Hold," Der Tod calls out, the tone commanding in a way she would not have heard before. "She is only my guest today. Let us pass."
The two nod in silence, stepping back a pace and dropping to a knee before their leader. A gloved hand settles on the door knob, blue eyes briefly shooting to Fran with a mischievous grin before cracking it open and dropping the hand away.
"Go on," they usher, voice the crashing waves on a rocky shore. They keep their arm looped around Fran's, making sure to hold on.
Fran dips a curtsey in return, studying the two winged creatures with great curiosity. She feels a little dizzy from the journey but she doesn't mind. Not entirely. It's a good kind of dizzy, like after she rides on Polontras's back for a while.
She keeps a tight hold on Der Tod's arm as they step through the door, and she looks around with wide eyes. "Is this your kingdom?"
Once they pass through the door, it clicks shut behind them - and now the scenery is so different from where they just had been. It's dark, for one...a glittering night sky, looming large and low over a garden of mourning lilies. Among the flowers, here and there, there are bits of grave markers, bits of headstone. Mist roils along the ground, ice-cold and faintly shimmering.
Up ahead, there is a house of fair size, cutting a dark and imposing silhouette against the...stars? (ARE they stars? Some of them seem to move.) More of those winged beings languish around the building, around the door, sharp gazes snapping to attention as they realize their master has returned. There is a statue of some sort nearer to the estate, wreathed in blue roses instead of the lilies.
Der Tod eases their grip on Fran, tone reassuring.
"This is...well, this is my home. You are fine now, so long as you don't try to go back out that door without holding on to me."
"Will I die, if I try to leave without you?" The winged creatures make her a little nervous, with her staring eyes. But she feels safe leaning against her friend, as always. She sees the stature, noting its haunting beauty. The carefully carved features. The wreath of blue roses. Clearly, someone special.
"Yes." Matter-of-fact - but there is finality, severity that implies something worse than simply death alone.
The statue is, of course, someone special. Der Tod steals a glance towards her as they make their way towards the house, towards that throng of waiting, guarding figures. Reassuringly, they rest their gloved hand over Fran's.
"My attendants. They are Angels, schatzi. They won't harm you. They are serious, but they are not cruel."
"Oh," she says, thoughtfully. Watching the beings that are lurking outside the house. "I suppose they aren't what I imagined, when I thought of angels. But we're told such stories when we're children. Little prayers about guardian angels.
But you were always mine. You were the one that made me feel safe."
"They appear differently sometimes - and humans are unreliable narrators, anyhow."
Der Tod glances back with a little smile at her comment as they draw up towards the front door of the house, the two Angels at the entrance bowing at their approach. One of them looks curiously up at Fran, a little less stoic than the others.
The Reaper opens the door to their home, pushing it open and gesturing for their friend to enter the dark, candle-lit space.
"And I am glad that I was able to do that. Now - after you, Fran."
"I think it's perfectly lovely," she says as she steps inside. The candle light is all rather moody, but it suits Der Tod, she decides. Why should Death themselves have all sorts of bright lights in their home? No, this is quite perfect.
The place certainly LOOKS like Der Tod - dark upholstery in velvets and satins, dried flowers perched in what are almost certainly urns, rich woods and irons even here in the foyer.
The walls are adorned with art and pictures and sculptures, a collage of bygone ages.
Hanging their coat on an iron stand by the door, they let themselves relax just a little, a peek at something more casual than they usually are.
"Of course, schatzi. Time stands still here. You can look at all you want to."
"You certainly are the magpie, aren't you?" she teases lightly, walking her fingers up his arm to squeeze his shoulder. But she finds herself doing her best to look at every piece of art and every urn and every flower there.
"I've had time." With their coat off, it's easier to feel the cold of their body through the fabric of their sleeve - always so cold, like a clay urn kept in the morgue.
"You can call it a hobby, if you like. I've seen so many years...I like to mark them."
And that is the difference between them, isn't it? The reason why they get on. Der Tod is all urns...Fran is all popsicles.
They chuckle.
"I do have a few places, yes. I don't need a home, exactly...but it is good to have a place to return to."
The door opens with a soft click - the wide eyed Angel from outside slips through the door, meeting Der Tod's gaze with an apologetic bow before shuffling off into another room, fiery orange wings faintly trembling.
Der Tod shrugs it off, turning to face Fran again.
"...Is there any sort of thing you'd like to see first? I collect all sorts of things."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
They catch the shift in her tone and they chuckle, the thrum of a crow's wings. Gently, they pull her back so she is looking them in the eyes, catching the full force of one of those peculiar smiles.
"Now, now, Fran. You know all you have to do is call for me, and I will be there. You just haven't called me in a while, and so I have let you live. It isn't that I haven't paid you any attention."
no subject
She'd practically given up on her own world, by now. There's very little, if anything at all for her there.
"I'm being very silly, aren't I? How childish you must think me."
no subject
One hand gently moves to her chin, tilting her head so that she cannot look away. The grip is firm - their grip always seems that way, a reminder that they are powerful, inescapable, even in this soft moments - but not painful, and there is caring in their fierce blue eyes.
"I have known many lonely humans like you, but not many ask to see me, after a while. It's nice, to be thought of fondly. You aren't afraid, but you know you're not ready yet. Not a combination I see often at all."
no subject
"No, not quite yet. I don't think. Though sometimes I wonder, what it might be like to spend all my time here. I wouldn't be afraid. Not so long as you were here. And Itward. I should like very much too see Itward again. But then I would miss my friends in Ithersta."
no subject
"Wondering will happen, mein mädchen. But when it is time, you will know. You will see me when you did not call, and you will know."
no subject
no subject
Said with conviction, with certainty. They can give her that much, when her life has had so little. "I know you would never be afraid. You will come to me knowing what it all means. You call yourself childish, Fran, but you are mature beyond your years already."
no subject
"Tell me where you've been, lately? Where is the loveliest place you've visited, since I've seen you last."
no subject
She asks the question...and they think for a moment or two before making a decision, shifting a little to indicate they mean to get up. "Why don't we have this conversation somewhere else? If you would like to go somewhere new."
There is a twinkle in their eyes, a spark of something not usually present.
no subject
"Where shall we go?"
no subject
"It is a surprise, Fran. But it's not somewhere I take just any one. You must promise me not to try to leave until you are escorted once we are there, ja?"
no subject
no subject
They lead her, smiling faintly, around the tree where they had been sitting - weaving this way and that, one way and another, around trees as if they were doing a slalom -
Until moving around one more, and...there is something that wasn't there before.
A door, dark and shimmering, with two stoic figures on either side. They bear a resemblance to Der Tod, save for the dark wings folded against their backs - and both look to Fran with concern on their faces. "Hold," Der Tod calls out, the tone commanding in a way she would not have heard before. "She is only my guest today. Let us pass."
The two nod in silence, stepping back a pace and dropping to a knee before their leader. A gloved hand settles on the door knob, blue eyes briefly shooting to Fran with a mischievous grin before cracking it open and dropping the hand away.
"Go on," they usher, voice the crashing waves on a rocky shore. They keep their arm looped around Fran's, making sure to hold on.
no subject
She keeps a tight hold on Der Tod's arm as they step through the door, and she looks around with wide eyes. "Is this your kingdom?"
no subject
Once they pass through the door, it clicks shut behind them - and now the scenery is so different from where they just had been. It's dark, for one...a glittering night sky, looming large and low over a garden of mourning lilies. Among the flowers, here and there, there are bits of grave markers, bits of headstone. Mist roils along the ground, ice-cold and faintly shimmering.
Up ahead, there is a house of fair size, cutting a dark and imposing silhouette against the...stars? (ARE they stars? Some of them seem to move.) More of those winged beings languish around the building, around the door, sharp gazes snapping to attention as they realize their master has returned. There is a statue of some sort nearer to the estate, wreathed in blue roses instead of the lilies.
Der Tod eases their grip on Fran, tone reassuring.
"This is...well, this is my home. You are fine now, so long as you don't try to go back out that door without holding on to me."
no subject
"Who are all they? The ones with the wings."
no subject
The statue is, of course, someone special. Der Tod steals a glance towards her as they make their way towards the house, towards that throng of waiting, guarding figures. Reassuringly, they rest their gloved hand over Fran's.
"My attendants. They are Angels, schatzi. They won't harm you. They are serious, but they are not cruel."
no subject
But you were always mine. You were the one that made me feel safe."
no subject
Der Tod glances back with a little smile at her comment as they draw up towards the front door of the house, the two Angels at the entrance bowing at their approach. One of them looks curiously up at Fran, a little less stoic than the others.
The Reaper opens the door to their home, pushing it open and gesturing for their friend to enter the dark, candle-lit space.
"And I am glad that I was able to do that. Now - after you, Fran."
no subject
"Will you show me absolutely everything?"
no subject
The walls are adorned with art and pictures and sculptures, a collage of bygone ages.
Hanging their coat on an iron stand by the door, they let themselves relax just a little, a peek at something more casual than they usually are.
"Of course, schatzi. Time stands still here. You can look at all you want to."
no subject
no subject
"You can call it a hobby, if you like. I've seen so many years...I like to mark them."
no subject
"A little something from every era you've been through? You must have dozens of houses filled with things, then."
no subject
They chuckle.
"I do have a few places, yes. I don't need a home, exactly...but it is good to have a place to return to."
The door opens with a soft click - the wide eyed Angel from outside slips through the door, meeting Der Tod's gaze with an apologetic bow before shuffling off into another room, fiery orange wings faintly trembling.
Der Tod shrugs it off, turning to face Fran again.
"...Is there any sort of thing you'd like to see first? I collect all sorts of things."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)