☠=- 25 DRABBLES -=☠
Sep. 4th, 2014 08:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
herpetreaper
25 Drabbles
| #01 - Birth | #02 - Cold | #03 - Blue | #04 - Heart | #05 - Forget |
| #06 - Lies | #07 - Fire | #08 - Red | #09 - Nervous | #10 - Friendship |
| #11 - Forever | #12 - Late | #13 - Black | #14 - Talent | #15 - Love |
| #16 - Passion | #17 - Alone | #18 - Lost | #19 - Courage | #20 - Wait |
| #21 - Surprise | #22 - Fear | #23 - Travel | #24 - Scream | #25 - Death |
☠Code for Others=-
on 2014-09-05 04:07 am (UTC)#01 - Birth
on 2014-09-05 06:06 am (UTC)It’s all a fuzz in Deaths mind.
Perhaps it was the moment two mortals were informed they could die. Or when fear had struck them that their lives might not be as safe as they hoped. When danger was apparent perhaps. Perhaps it was before mortals in general, for where there is life there has always been death, right? When the first microscopic tiny little creature first split in two?
He’s older than some beings, gods and saints. But maybe not the eldest. Had there been others before? Flickers of light? A torch of creatures and brains? Spirits or... souls?
Had there been souls before death? Life had to come first after all.
Upon his possible ‘birth’ he stayed in one place, in a dark bit of space in the middle of no where. If someone were to die he would know it. He would feel it. He could appear by their side and wait, watch, take note of what happened. As their spirit left their mortal body, no matter how small it was, he would guide it to their door, or gate, or where ever it was they were to go.
For eons, Death had no clue where that was. It was just to be is all.
When you had a purpose, you did it. When you were born to guide the dead, you didn’t ask questions.
#02 - Cold
on 2014-09-05 06:08 am (UTC)Snow, the opposite of what people generally saw him as. Sure, snow white bleached bones, but most people associate black with the Grim Reaper.
Laying backwards in the snow, dressed in damp cold jeans and a old battered green parka, the fur on the hood matted and old, Malach stared into the sky. Not to the heavens as one might think they were, but to the stars. The real heavens.
He’d never been out into ‘space’. Or, not really. He’d been as far as human kind had gone, when they lost someone out there. When they had shot a creature into the heavens and had no plans to bring that animal back. There he had been, as Death, tucked in for the ride and waiting. The cold of space was glorious, but the stars so far away.
To reach out and touch a star... impossible. It was like being alone in a void but not, because you knew others were there.
It was like being Death. Alone on his own, but he knows others are around. Others like him. Endless. Angels. Anchants. Gods and Demons. Belief.
He knows if he lays here in this form for too long, he will kill his vessel in cold, but he can’t help it. Laying there in the snow, staring at the cold of the stars. It was lonely, but it made him feel... warm.
Cold was always his comfort temperature.
#03 - Blue
on 2014-09-05 06:09 am (UTC)There were times that the pain of wax burning into his flesh had hurt until the other caught his eyes with those beautiful blues.
Malach knew better than to push it with the other, but his mouth opened to quip something antagonizing anyhow. Always leading to a reaction that seemed more emotional in the eyes then one would thing the other could give.
He knew he shouldn’t but he wanted to get lost in those blues.
He knew he shouldn’t and he knew it was a bad idea to smile when he did get lost in the others gaze, but he couldn’t help it.
They were simply mesmerizing.
#04 - Heart
on 2014-09-05 06:13 am (UTC)No matter how many reapers Death had, he still managed to make it to more than his fair share of deaths, but he insisted to be the one to take care of the deaths of a child. Children were special. His heart reached out for the small ones who died before they barely had a chance. They had no time in the world to choose a side. To be good or bad. They were just children, living balls of flesh that cooed and giggles and laughed when you came close or smiled.
Death, in robes and skeletal this time came to the nursery of a Georgia hospital, walking silently through the cribs and peeking in on children. He didn’t check their fates. He didn’t bother the sisters three. There was no reason to. He was here for business. Sad business.
A young girl lay in an incubator, fists balled up and looking as if she were ready to take on the world. Only...
...she wasn’t.
The mother had been in an accident, causing her to go into labor far too soon. The child was so small when the doctors took her out. The mother did not survive the birth. And here she was, alone, an orphan, sickly, and angry. Barely able to do anything at all about it.
Death disliked the death of children, but it happened.
reaching down to carefully scoop up the child he brought it to rest close to his robe covered body chest. Moving to sit in a rocker, he leaned back to wait, holding the child. His skull like face betraying no emotions or feelings for any of it. He just carefully held her for a while.
Machines went off, and a few nurses came flying in, one crying as she reached the incubator. Pushing her hands in gloves they reached the child, still in her so called crib. No longer moving. No longer breathing. Silent.
While the child in his hands was fussy and fighting and crying loudly. “Ready, are we?” He asked in a bone chilling rattle of a voice that echoed around them. No one else heard it.
The child kicked and cried again. The nurses worked as hard as they could. Death moved to stand, turning to leave through the door that should appear. Only it didn’t yet.
He paused, looking around the room, unsure now.
And then the baby disappeared his grasp, faded away and returned. A nurse cried out ‘Thank god!” in a thick southern voice as a cry came from the small child.
Death stared, wondering what in the world was going on. He didn’t have the heart to go to her and check again. Didn’t want to get too close.
Funny how this case would continue to boggle him for years to come.
the impossible child who defied death at every chance she could. She summoned him far too often and he watched as she died over and over again, only to continue living, over and over again.
#19 - Courage
on 2014-09-05 06:14 am (UTC)It started with headaches in the morning, a mess of vision problems, and often more balance issues as time went one. When his doctor told him the news he tried his best to fight it. Brain Cancer. It had gone too far to remove properly.
He pushed to live his life to the fullest already, but this new made him go farther. Traveling, sky dying, donkey rides in a canyon, river rafting, bungee jumping. He would be damned if he didn’t push himself to the edge.
And push he had. He didn’t take treatments like they said. It would only give him a possible year. He just went for it. A few months of adventure would be better than being too weak to do it.
It’s what Death liked about the other. He tried. He knew there would be a visit from the Reaper soon, but he lived by his name. Videl. Life.
Laying in a hospital bed in South Africa, barely remembering his name, barely able to talk. He had taken a spill that had him lost. He was called John Doe for a week. He stopped responding to the staff one day, and spoke only to one.
Death came, dressed in all black, hair long and silky, eyes done up in heavy eye makeup, but her eyes dazzled a brownish red. She stood at the end of his bed, leaning pale hands on the end, smiling at him.
“Is it time?” He asked, seeing to be able to speak again just fine.
“Are you ready?” Death asked kindly, still smiling like a mother would smile.
“I think so. There were still things I wanted to do, but I got most of them done. I tried, right?”
“What was next on your list, after Africa?” She had to ask, she was always curious about these things. It was rare she sat and had a conversation with the dying, but Videl seemed... special.
He chuckled, coughing as he did. As he got his breath under control again he said. “Canada. I’ve been everywhere but the snow tops of Canada. Death by snow was my goal.” He said, chuckling as if he were joking. “Death by Mounty.” And that might actually been a joke.
Death smiled fondly. “I’ve always enjoyed the cold as well. I’m sorry you didn’t get to go that far.”
“It did... well though, didn’t I? I made the... most of it.” Videl said, eyes watering now as he spoke. The fear of the end starting to creep into his voice.
Muerte moved around the edge of the bed to take a seat beside him, her hand reaching for his, curling fingers into his palm. “You did more than most could have. Through sick and pain, dizziness and vomiting. You’re so strong, Videl. With such courage. Someone has smiled upon you.”
“No one smiles upon me, my lady. My adventure is about to end.”
“You believe in nothing?” Muerte found herself asking curiously.
“I never did find anything.” His voice almost embarrassed, as if this were a goal in his life that got away from him. To find something to believe in.
“And yet here I am.”
“Yes... here you are. I suppose I believed I would die some day.” He said with a soft chuckle, breaking it up into a hard coughing hack once again.
It took a long time for him to open his eyes again, looking to see if the beautiful woman was still there or if he had been dreaming the whole time. Not seeing her he sighed, frowning and laying his head back again.
“Why do you frown, my brave Videl?” The woman's voice asked from the window near his bed.
He rolled his head over to look at her, her expression a bit more sad than it had been before. The clock at the side of the bed told him he’d fallen asleep for a few hours. He was still alive though. “I thought I missed my angel.” He couldn’t help but flirt.
Muerte turned to give a sad smile back to that. “I’m no angel, my friend. Not for you.” And she twisted one foot in to turn her back to him, grinning. “No wings!” And turned back again, coming to his bed and taking his hand once more. “You have no family to call upon.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m the last of what little I had. I think I messed that part of life up.” He said, looking sadly up to her, then smiling faintly. “Whoops...”
The whoops made Death chuckle, almost musically. “Whoops indeed. It’s okay though. It makes my offer easier to give.”
Videl looked to her, confused. “You’re going to leave me my life?” He wasn’t sure how well he wanted it or not.
Smiling sadly she leaned over his hand a bit, bringing it up and kissing the back of his hand, avoiding the IV pressed into his flesh. “No, my friend. Death can not grant Life. I only help you along where you belong.”
Ah, so he wasn’t really dreaming. Or he was, and that was fine too, but this was Death, and he was safe now. He knew it had been. “No, of course you couldn't.” It wasn’t bitterly said though. It was said as if that was the most logical thing in the world to have been said. “Then what kind of offer do you have for me?”
Muerte smiled again, much more warmly as she leaned over him. her cheek was cold next to his, but then again his was growing colder in the warm feeling room. Her lips were soft as she pressed a light kiss to his cheek, and her words were music as she spoke.
When she pulled back, looking down to him, he simply stared back, then smiled, giving a soft nod. “Okay.” He grasped her hand tighter now, eyes welling up and tears spilling over. “But only if you do one last thing for me.”
Death doesn’t make bargains or deals. That’s not Deaths thing. She left that to the Morning Star and his people. She left that to those who wanted more in return then what they gave. And yet his request was simple, she was sure of it. “Anything you want.”
“Canada. Please. At least once.”
Chuckling she held his hand tighter, leaning over him. “I’ll see what I can do. I believe that is fair.”
“Then... I think I’m ready.” Videl said at last, not realizing his hand was slipping from her own, falling to the bed and resting on his belly.
Muerte leaned forward to press her lips to his, giving him a firm kiss and holding it, taking his breath away slowly. When she broke away from the kiss she reached up to brush a bit of hair from his forehead. “You are ready.”
Her hand reached into his chest, right to the center, pulling at a reddish glow. When she was done a small light pulled from it, herh and clean of blood, holding a blue glowing ball before her.
Bringing it close to her chest with both hands she gave a soft Mmm sound as she seemed to snuggle her cheek to it, nuzzling the light. “You’re beautiful. For someone who doesn’t believe, you have such a strong and courageous soul. Come, let’s move on now my friend. Death is just the next great adventure, and I’m sure you’re ready to get a move on it.”
She turned to lead, moving towards a door that appeared at a wall, opening it and walking through.
When the door went away the room was bathed in dark once again, the dim lights of machines all flat lining loudly. A nurse came to the door, dark skinned and stern faced, suddenly going sad. She called down a hall and two more people rushed towards the room.
They did their best to bring back a life, but they didn’t push it. After all John Doe, unknown name Videl Cromwell was a very sick man. He’s better off now. Out of pain.
Hours later, on a cold slab in the morgue, the sheet that covered Videl’s body moved. A raise and lowering of his chest. And a sudden breath sucked in. He sat up, gasping, naked on the table.
Stumbling from the slab he grabbed a lab coat and took off. Sneaking out as best as he could sneak. Bare feet with toe tag still tied firmly to it, slapped as he ran for shelter. His body coughing, feeling weak and painful, but still moving.
He ran until he found hiding. He found clothing and food and heat and time to collect her... his thoughts.
There were a lot of thoughts to collect, though some sections of this brain were ruined. Death had fixed that as Death took over but there were still problem areas. Oh well, it wouldn’t bother her any.
After about a week he was stronger, better looking and healthy again. Back to his prime. Muerte had done her job, but was still on another job. She had to befriend a human girl, Virginia Walker. Someone Death had been following for years now.
When he founds her again she looked good. Well cared for in her run away travels adventure, but he had unfinished business with her, and in this body he would be able to complete that task.
“What was your name?” Virginia had asked while they took a train up country, seated across from each other.
“Malach.” Death said with ease, smiling a shy but friendly smile to the other.
The spent many of years adventuring. And Malach spent many of nights trying to figure out why Virginia was so... strange. So different. Courageous and proud.
Even standing at the top of a snow covered mountain in Canada hadn’t answered his questions, but Malach had never been happier than he was when he stood in snow.