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."
Fran watches the angel go with a curious expression, but lets them go without question nonetheless. Her friend is speaking to her, and they deserve her full attention.
"I want to see what you like most. What makes you happiest? What makes you smile whenever you see it?"
"I feel a bit like Bluebeard's wife," she admits, following them down the hallway. Keeping her hands to herself. "Are there any places I ought not go?"
Coming to the end of the hall, they turn to the left, resting a hand on the doorknob. Understanding her concerns, they look to her - grinning their angular grin, but voice soft and soothing like a graveside prayer.
"Outside of the door in the garden to leave this realm - no. I trust you. You are welcome here. And you can touch things, just know that many of them are...very old."
"I promise to be on my best behaviour, then, and be very careful with anything I'm tempted to touch. Keeping in mind the age of things." She gives him a playful smile, reaching out to pinch his arm teasingly.
"At least I don't have to worry about breaking you. Even though you're very old."
At that, they actually laugh - a good natured sound, not as dark as what one might expect. "I'm older than anything here, and...no, you certainly will not break me."
And with that, they open the door.
The room beyond is a fair size, loaded top to bottom, wall to wall with...music. Music players, instruments, a whole shelf of music boxes, books of sheet music...every kind of thing one can think of.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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"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
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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."
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"Who are all they? The ones with the wings."
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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."
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But you were always mine. You were the one that made me feel safe."
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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."
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"Will you show me absolutely everything?"
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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."
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"You can call it a hobby, if you like. I've seen so many years...I like to mark them."
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"A little something from every era you've been through? You must have dozens of houses filled with things, then."
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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."
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"I want to see what you like most. What makes you happiest? What makes you smile whenever you see it?"
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They think for a moment...and then nod, beckoning as the walk towards a hallway laden with lanterns and hung dried flowers. "This way."
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"Outside of the door in the garden to leave this realm - no. I trust you. You are welcome here. And you can touch things, just know that many of them are...very old."
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"At least I don't have to worry about breaking you. Even though you're very old."
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And with that, they open the door.
The room beyond is a fair size, loaded top to bottom, wall to wall with...music. Music players, instruments, a whole shelf of music boxes, books of sheet music...every kind of thing one can think of.
"Here. One of my favorite collections."