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Ashford's room was empty, save for himself. Done up in somber tones of cerise and gunmetal greys, it was a quiet disaster. He spent more time in his rooms than he would've liked; in recent months the Pyramidkind reaper had fallen ill at inopportune moments, and had been confined to his quarters at least once during those times.

He was tired, now, though. So tired, and every time he slept the feeling never went away. He woke up hoping to be refreshed, but instead, there was a gaping maw in his chest, a hole so large in his chest that it sometimes felt as though he might cave in on himself, fading into nothing.

The maw was loneliness, and with its awakening, Ash spent as much time as possible around Thackery as possible, to stave it off.

He had spent much time in the company of other reapers, of his kind, and it was not often that he preferred them over the comfort of silence.

The void did not judge. The still did not speak in heavy tones of its disappointment. The quiet did not stare at him so accusing from underneath iron helms, plainly stating he was not worthy of the title he had inherited.

Ashford compartmentalized the thoughts, stowing the troublesome little things into a box in his mind. He carefully shelved it, putting them aside in favor of Thackery.

It was a good thing no one knew the extent of his obsession. It had started so simply with a project, and it was an unforeseen complication (one that, Ash noted, he did not mind) that the flamboyant and excitable cerberus teen would walk into his life and walk away with his heart.

Not literally, of course. Ash was not undead nor did he have any plans of becoming so; but it was clear that he was, in fact, a walking cliche.

It bothered him until he saw a wagging tail and perked up ears waiting for him in the cafeteria, waving him down with the enthusiasm of... Well.

A puppy.

After the insanity was temporarily kept at bay, Ashford had dragged Thackery, magical girl outfit and all, back to his room.. He sat and watched the boy, without his helm, afraid he might disappear. He was covered in the stink of joy, and it took a lot of reassuring promises from the demon that he wouldn't budge before Ash took the quickest of showers he'd ever had.

But now, weeks later, life had resumed normality or something like it, only for it to be turned on its head as the Horsemen offered Amityville their protection. In the same day, Thackery found the kitsune he had been looking for.

None of this did any good for the dark snakes of dread slithering in his belly.

Ashford laid on his cold bed, alone, and slept on it.


There would be nightmares. He was growing accustomed to them; and he wasn't sure which was worse: the dreams themselves or the dull resignation that accompanied them.