Patiently, they let her play with their fingers, tug at their gloves, inspect their rings. When she was little, she liked their rings, they recall. The hairwork designs trapped under the glass, memento mori laid into little flowers and twists.
"I am glad of the visit. And glad to have been thought of fondly. You've been through quite a lot in these years, haven't you?"
"Quite a lot," she says quietly, sounding a little sad. So much has happened on her adventures. A lot of good, yes, but a lot of frightening things, too. But Der Tod had always been there for her, since she was a child. And for that she is grateful.
"Your work takes you all over, I'm sure. But you were always there when I called."
"More than your share. But that always seems to be with the people who think of me as a friend."
Shifting their legs under them, they extend their arm out and to the side, inviting Fran to scoot closer, to lean in. Death's embrace, quite literally.
And Fran leans against them, wrapping her arms around their waist and resting her head against their chest. It makes the rough bark of the tree scrape against her arm, but she doesn't mind. She's comfortable here.
She can remember that night so clearly. A dark figure escaping out the window, and another taking its place beside her.
And who are you, now?
I'm a friend.
They'd been so reassuring, staying with her until the police came.
"Perhaps I need you again now, in a way. I'm very lonely, you see. All my friends are here, or in Ithersta. Save Mister Midnight, of course."
They're cold, like laying across a headstone - but it's soothing, the way they wrap their arm over Fran's shoulders, gently holding her there.
They, too, remember that night well. Two confused and terrified parents, ushered away...and a wide-eyed little girl, covered in blood, looking up at them with bleary eyes. They had smiled, reassured - and when asked to stay, they did, just for a short time, crouched there with her and stroking her hair.
"People tend to find me odd. Or think I'm a witch, or something silly like that. Just because I have a black cat and live alone in a spooky old house. And besides, no one believes the stories I tell. I suppose there's no real reason they should believe me. It all sounds rather fantastical, doesn't it?"
"You have that in common with many who have taken the time to speak with me."
Their tone is gentle, reassuring, the breeze over a memorial garden. "But that doesn't mean they're right. So much of life sounds like fantasy. Everyone has stories that they think no one will believe."
Fran presses her thumb against the dimple of his chin and smiles, stroking his cheek. "But you've always been gentle with me. So kind. None of my friends are human, but I don't think I mind that."
She sighs and hugs them tighter. "Will you come visit me more often? I miss you. I'll call for you more again."
Her hand is warm against their chilly skin - in spite of themselves, they lean into the touch a little, the sensation novel. Few are willing to touch them, and even those who are...well, they don't stay warm for long, do they?
"So long as you are happy, Schatzi."
The hug and the plea actually make them blink - not precisely a common plea from someone who has grown. "...If you like. If you need me, I will come. You know I will."
"I know it's strange of me. Wanting you as a friend. But you are my friend, and I do like having you with me.
I miss our conversations. I miss falling asleep listening to your voice." It's almost a pout. Very nearly a sulk, but she manages to pull it together a little. "None of my friends live near me. I'd say it's not fair, but at least I can visit you all."
"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."
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Patiently, they let her play with their fingers, tug at their gloves, inspect their rings. When she was little, she liked their rings, they recall. The hairwork designs trapped under the glass, memento mori laid into little flowers and twists.
"I am glad of the visit. And glad to have been thought of fondly. You've been through quite a lot in these years, haven't you?"
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"Your work takes you all over, I'm sure. But you were always there when I called."
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Shifting their legs under them, they extend their arm out and to the side, inviting Fran to scoot closer, to lean in. Death's embrace, quite literally.
"Of course. You needed me."
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She can remember that night so clearly. A dark figure escaping out the window, and another taking its place beside her.
And who are you, now?
I'm a friend.
They'd been so reassuring, staying with her until the police came.
"Perhaps I need you again now, in a way. I'm very lonely, you see. All my friends are here, or in Ithersta. Save Mister Midnight, of course."
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They, too, remember that night well. Two confused and terrified parents, ushered away...and a wide-eyed little girl, covered in blood, looking up at them with bleary eyes. They had smiled, reassured - and when asked to stay, they did, just for a short time, crouched there with her and stroking her hair.
Just like they do now, absently.
"That must be very hard for you."
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Their tone is gentle, reassuring, the breeze over a memorial garden. "But that doesn't mean they're right. So much of life sounds like fantasy. Everyone has stories that they think no one will believe."
A sigh.
"Humans can be so cruel."
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She sighs and hugs them tighter. "Will you come visit me more often? I miss you. I'll call for you more again."
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"So long as you are happy, Schatzi."
The hug and the plea actually make them blink - not precisely a common plea from someone who has grown. "...If you like. If you need me, I will come. You know I will."
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I miss our conversations. I miss falling asleep listening to your voice." It's almost a pout. Very nearly a sulk, but she manages to pull it together a little. "None of my friends live near me. I'd say it's not fair, but at least I can visit you all."
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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."
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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."
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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."
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"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."
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"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."
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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."
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"Tell me where you've been, lately? Where is the loveliest place you've visited, since I've seen you last."
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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.
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"Where shall we go?"
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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?"
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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.
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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?"
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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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