|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Mar 29, 2008 10:50 am
 One sand grain falls like a pebble through the small sieve of Time's Hourglass. It seems to fall forever, on and on like a river. It will exist as long as there are stars in the sky, and it will forever be a reminder. All of these grains live out their lives. Some art short and some are long, and they come in all different colors and shapes. Sometimes, though, accidents happen and the shape of the grain is changed, morphed, maybe even destroyed. Sometimes, a life is changed, morphed and even destroyed. All of these things can happen and sometimes... it rips you apart.
There was a truthfulness, he knew, about the whole theory. Yet something was missing, left out of the hypothesis. Murder. Assassination. You could take someone else's grain of life, and kill them. You could disintegrate that grain and cut someone's life short. In turn, there is no price for you. Your life won't get cut short. At the end of the day, you'll still be alive. The only thing is... you're haunted. All the memories.
He knew this too. All of it. Somehow though, the memories didn't add up. They weren't him, but they looked so much like him. These days, it was all he could do not to snap. Even food wasn't prosperous anymore, and his collar felt meaningless. Saya. There had been a woman named Saya, he knew. All of it. He knew so much. Too much. He was going insane, that had to be it. You didn't have dreams of being a murderer and than a bounty hunter in a... two-footed body with thumbs and wake up to being a four-footed thing with fur. You just didn't.
So Train sat, contemplating things and looking up at a twilit sky beyond the borders of the plains he was sitting on. It was nearby to a place called HQ, but far away enough to be alone. Almost too alone. Quiet as death. And he knew, that his grain was falling.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 30, 2008 12:25 am
 Hourglasses, something the dark robed figure knew very much about. The creature knew so much about them that it even had a whole room filled to the brim with them. Big ones, small ones, even some purple and pink ones. Now mind you this creature wasn't too fond of those coloured ones, they didn't match the dreary decor. It was needless to say that from the looks of the robed creature one could tell right away that colour was not something much cared for. For there was no hint of colour anywhere upon its body...Save for its eyes.
Piercing blue orbs hovered in place within the deep socets of the figure's skull. A skull which was incredibly bare, simply bone and nothing more. You could argue that the blue glowing orbs where really there, weren't eyes, but in the end it didn't really matter. For most those eyes were the last thing they saw. If ever were the orbs to be snuffed out the creature would have simply continued on, it did not need them to be.
He didn't need them to see.
But there they were, perhaps a simple tool to calm the souls beore their departure, dispite the being's enjoyment for scaring others. Or perhaps it was a simple tool to asist in his expressions. After all as a skeleton it was sometimes a challenge to give off the right emotion. Bones could only bend so much (if at all) on a magical being.
Lives were ticking away and the skeleton had one purpose. One job, his reason for being. He had no reason for living, because when you were Death you weren't exactly stated to be alive. Quite the opposite infact. So he simply was. And looked all to dead being so.
Slowly the Reaper crepted along, claws leaving little marks in the ground, as maggots squirmed and plummeted from the only thing that looked to be made of flesh upon the being; his ears. The air around him seemed to stiffed as he passed. What was he doing this day? With the Reaper's habits and oddities it was hard to tell. Only one thing was certain, he was wandering around, and as he most often did, with his scythe.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Mar 30, 2008 7:40 am
Displaced air echoed in the sky and in the manner of wind began to swirl about the assassin, almost tempting him. Almost. There was really nothing anywhere for him anymore, nothing left. All he had were memories and he couldn't stand those anymore. It itched him from the core of his heart and he wanted to be done with it all. There was a burning to almost just... kill. Everything. Could he satiate this distasteful lust with other, or would he end up killing himself? Truly, he didn't know, didn't want to give in. He'd never really liked the idea of giving up. That wasn't his style.
A pause.
There was something... oddly familiar about the emotions in the air. A presence he didn't really understand, didn't exactly welcome but knew. Perhaps a little too well; better than anyone else. It was a gift, for others, a loss for many, and a job for him. Had been a job. Just as this one had a job too. Yes, he certainly knew him, an old friend maybe? No. Something else, but not the enemy. Never the enemy. For some reason, something about this kitsu had calmed him and with his usual grin that was so unusually rare these days, he turned to watch the Reaper pass.
"Looking for someone?" Train called, slightly cocky.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 31, 2008 12:16 am
Memories, something the Reaper would never fully understand. How they could eat and eat away at someone, ripping them apart from the inside. It was truely fascinating, a wonder before the skeleton's very eyes. It was something of which he would just about always find himself marveling at.
How one person could willingly kill another was another fascinating thing. Death loved wars and the like for that fact, and it kept him busy. Now he did kill people, but that was all he did. It was his job to make sure a person died when they were supposed to. When their sand ran out or was stoped mid-pour. Those times when the hourglasses would just shatter on their own. It was a terrible mess to clean up, but it certainly did catch his attention everytime he would walk the endless halls of that room.
It would have been an odd sight indeed if a person were to be hit by a bus, only to be killed, but not die. He was a part of life.
Death's presense was not something that most could say calmed them. Infact his being in a room seemed to stir many emotions, mainly fear, but very rarely did it stir a feeling a clam. And that feeling was well displayed on the other's face.
The Reaper's already slow pace slowed, almost creeping to a complete halt as he came across Train. "Aren't I always?" he responded.
Now that wasn't entirely true, as he did have days, or rather hours that he would simply wander, not looking for anyone or anything. He would simply allow himself to relax and enjoy being.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Mar 31, 2008 5:54 pm
The world never stops. People always die, and Death is always there for them. He'd always been punctual. When Train went through his memories, remembering the people he'd killed... there had always been a precision to it. A timing. He'd noticed that Death was never really too late. Unfortunately, Train half wished his current time was up, so that he perhaps could be freed of his own misery, but then he denied this. What good would it do to think such things? He was free, wasn't he? Free from everything except the tortures and confines of his mind.
A thought crossed him: did Death think about things? Or did he simply know? Was he truly always busy? A more recent memory allowed him to visualize a point at which he'd previously met this other. And they had met. Perhaps more than he knew. It formed in his head slowly, blossoming, and then withered and fell to ashes. Past or present currently made no difference, but his future seemed bleak.
Still, he smiled. He was never one to shy away from danger head on, never. And his companion right now didn't seem to be all that dangerous. Calming. Still ever calming, somehow. There was a light shrug, and he looked up to the sky before shaking his head and grinning back to the Reaper as if he knew the truth. He went on to say something else however, "Nice sunset, wasn't it?" It seemed rather unlike him, this small talk. But... he'd never really had a problem with being polite to anyone not his enemy, in fact, before the hauntings of his dreams, he'd been quite carefree.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Apr 12, 2008 6:50 am
Being punctual was part of the job. It was also something the Reaper held to his name. Death was not late, unless there was a darn good reason for it. Everything had to be done on time, and that incuded people's untimely demises. He was an organized being, and kept to a proper schedule, one that was rarely stretched or changed in large ways.
As to how Death managed to be where the end of lives needed him at all times, well there was certainly a....magic to it. When time did not apply to you traveling was much easier. It also made it much easier to simply ignore things like walls and doors. Buildings, doors, things, he was far far older then they were and would be around much long after they were gone. And thus due to this, he could simply ignore the fact that they exsisted, and act as though they didn't, simply phase though them. Which certainly made making home visists much easier, as he didn't have to use the front door. Even though he perfered to use as little of his powers as he was able. There wasn't really any need to exhaust such things, only when necessary.
And it would be true. Death did think about things. Things pertaining to the acts and personalities of mortals. Humanity. It was really an interesting thing and perhaps he'd indulge himself a tad too much in thoughts about it. When it came to things of life, well those things...He simply knew. Such knowledge must have come with the job. When you had to collect the souls of people like philosophers. Those people that always tried to talk their way out of dying. He knew a lot of things, more then one could imagine, but that didn't stop him from mulling thoughts over in his head when he wasn't as busy.
The Reaper blinked, flicking a maggot covered ear at Train's comment. "It always is." he responded, his tone still and timeless. "When you take the time to notice."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 18, 2008 9:09 pm
Life was a fragile stream of things that had a set time. It flowed in and around them like whirling symbols of energy. There were a million and five colors to it and each one had a different tint or shade. Hue, brightness. Vivid. Dull. Sharp. Soft. Everything was different, lively by itself. A spinning intelligent entity all its own, whirring merely for the sake of doing so. Continuing just because it could. Persisting and resisting throughout. What choices did it have?
It was that, or give up.
But it seemed like nobody quite knew how to do that. They always fought and struggled and only at the very end did they realize how beautiful things were. They had never really seen a sunset. They had never lived until those final seconds of pre-death. Everything was glamorous in those moments, but it didn't seem to be enough. It could never be enough. Not in a world like this. Not when fragility was so common amongst this species.
And not with such tormenting memories.
But that wasn't the situation right now.
Train turned his lingering attention back to the sky, looking for something he could never really see. Something beyond the stars and the moon, beyond the darkening sky, beyond the light fantastic... beyond everything. And as usual, he saw nothing. He would go on seeing nothing until his own hourglass ran out, and why was that? Because nothing good came out of death, no matter how many people you repented for. But that wasn't the most haunting thing. No. The worst was now.
Having killed... but not remembering it. That was the worst. That feeling of death blossoming around you, but never remembering pulling that trigger. Never remembering the blood on your face and your hands. The crimson rain that precipitated down. Not remembering the feeling of freedom when he'd run away after meeting her...
And still... the sky said nothing.
He tossed a silly forced grin at Death, "Humanity is a sunset. Fading in and out, beautiful... but never really gone. That's what I think." And in a way, he did.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
