Post by Matuschkin on May 29, 2012 18:47:44 GMT -5
Aah, another night, another name in the book. With a swift motion of a quill pen the name of the lifeless body thirty feet below him appeared in the leatherbound book. Whistling a cheerful tune the figure, clad in black robes, put the book's chain around his neck and concealed it within his garments. The figure happened to be a reaper, an old one at that, and the unfortunate death of the immigrant worker who lay lifeless on the ground beneath was not his doing. The man had managed to die all on his own. The reaper was only there to take care of the life energy, the soul, that had left the body. The man had been working on fixing the roof on which the reaper was now sitting. For some reason he had lost his footing and landed face first on the concrete. A bloody mess for sure, but that's death for you. As far as he could tell there were no other humans in the immediate vicinity, so he was in no hurry to get out of there just yet. He figured he might as well sit up there and enjoy the sight of the setting sun. From where he was sitting, the sunset looked as red as blood. Quite fitting to be perfectly honest. Then again, the world did have a tendency to make things come together quite nicely at times.
Reaching inside his robes, the reaper pulled out an old antique-looking pipe along with a box of matches. "Nothing like smoking fine tobacco on an evening like this. The world presenting its most aesthetically pleasing side," the reaper muttered to himself. You might not be familiar with reapers, but they are basically the spitting image of "Death", "The Grim Reaper" as it has been portrayed for as long as man can remember. That is to say, they are basically skeletons. "Hey, how can a skeleton smoke a pipe?" you ask. Well, how can a skeleton talk, walk and run? Exactly. Some things in life just doesn't make any sense. Better get used to it, kiddo. All you need to know is that he was indeed inhaling and exhaling smoke. Of course, the exhaling was something of note. It's not every day you see someone blow smoke out their eye sockets.
Sure, the reaper enjoyed the scenery before him, but that wouldn't last for long. You see, this particular reaper was very easily bored, and a sunset is only interesting for so long. No, unless another mindless chap happened to fall off a roof nearby, this reaper would have little reason to remain in the harbor. Sitting with his legs crossed, completely covered by the robes, he gazed off into the distance, not focusing his sights on anything in particular. The glowing blue vortexes in his eye sockets swirled slowly, as they always had, as they always would. For a moment, or at least what felt like a moment (could have been quite a bit longer, actually), the reaper got lost in thought. He remembered what it had been like to sit atop the roof of the Hanseatic League's office in Gdánsk (Danzig), watching the magnificent ships sail off into the distance, bound for the harbors of Gotland, Copenhagen and as far away as London, England and Flanders, Belgium (of course, it wasn't known as Belgium back then). How much everything had changed since then.. and how little it had changed. Time had moved on, but people were pretty the same they had always been. Erratic creatures with lifespans so short that they're always in a hurry. Not that the reaper disliked humans. Quite the opposite, in fact. There was no other species so diverse and interesting as humans.
Snapping out of his day dreaming he looked around, noticing that the sun had almost set completely by now. With a sigh he cracked his knuckles (yeah, a bad habit) and got to his bony feet. "Good lord, what time is it?" he asked himself aloud, pulling back the left sleeve of his robe to check his watch. "Oh.. Duh.." he muttered as he realized that he hadn't worn a watch in years.
Joshua was strolling merrily down the street, nearly dancing with his elbows up and his fingers snapping, when he smelled something. He paused mid-snap, one foot off the ground, and inhaled deeply, earning himself a lot of strange looks from the few people passing by. One woman was staring particularly close at him, and he tipped her a wink and a little wave as he turned at a direct 90 degree angle and slid down the nearest alley, following his nose.
It smelled so good. He knew what it was, he just didn't know who or why, but in these matters, did that matter? Nah, not really. A little human blood --or in this case, a lot-- spilled on the cement, a few splintered bones, and some other vague scent that he thought he recognized (some sort of smoke), but nevermind the last. Ooh. Maybe somebody had been mugged. Hit by a car? Shot? Stabbed? Crushed? Bitten by a rabid animal? Murdered? Tortured? Who knew? Humans were so very breakable, and coming across one that was freshly maimed --hopefully still alive, just for something to do before whoever it was kicked the ol' bucket-- would be like winning the lottery in this boring town. Not that it didn't have its share of bloodshed, it did, but people were generally so unoriginal, it was almost enough to bring you to tears. Really? Gangwars? Drugwars? Couldn't you do something to make things interesting? Guns and knives were cool, he had one of each himself, but it was always fun when people got creative. Ice picks and such.
But, oh. Shit. Joshua came across the body and sighed. Already dead, ho hum. Not that the blood splattered all over the place --and by that he meant all over the place-- wasn't a nice touch, but really. Couldn't the poor little fool have managed to stay alive a bit longer? Now that would have been interesting. But today he was having no luck.
He heaved another sigh --this one almost theatrical in sound-- and dropped to his knee beside the bloodstain. With one thin finger he traced an image into the congealing pool of blood --a daisy, like a child might draw. Then, almost thoughtfully, he put the finger to his mouth, imagining that he could taste with the blood the last terrified moments of this pathetic human's life. He shivered, inhaling again, then looked straight up. Fallen off a roof, it seemed.
"Too bad," he said aloud, "That you couldn't have done something more spectacular, but tell me-- how was the fall? Did you think of your loved ones? Did you scream, or cry, or perhaps beg your God? Was there enough time for any of that? Or maybe you felt a sense of freedom, like you were finally flying away? Well, until you hit the ground, that is. And how was that? Were you alive long? Did you feel any of it --I certainly hope you felt something. A nice dramatic thud, and then lights out, most likely. Or maybe you were still here for a few agonizing seconds after the ground rushed up to say hello. Too bad you couldn't have held on ten minutes more. I would have been there to give you a proper farewell, and I might have even carried a dying wish to your relatives. I still could, if you have the proper documentation." He ran his finger back through the blood again, this time just for good measure (not to draw anything) and rubbed the blood between his forefinger and thumb, feeling it. "It really is too bad," he said again, and stood.
Post by Matuschkin on May 30, 2012 11:36:20 GMT -5
Now what was this? Someone had strolled right into the gory scene below him. Interesting. Most.. interesting. The man was human in appearance, but not in behaviour. The reaper had studied humans long enough to know one when he saw one. The way the man knelt down and played around with blood was not what a human would do in this situation. Well, not what most humans would do at any rate. There are always psychos around, but the chances of a psychopath just happening to walk into a bloody mess of corpse were slim at best. No, this was most likely not a human. A shapeshifter perhaps. He knew werecreatures were fond of blood and gore by their very nature. Some vampires were too, for obvious reasons. Blowing puffs of smoke through the cavity where his nose should be, he contemplated for a moment what he should do about this situation. He could simply leave it as it was. But then again, he was a curious one.. and he did want to know what it was down there.
In the blink of an eye the reaper appeared behind the man, not making a sound. The man seemed to be talking to the corpse. A very.. odd.. thing to do. This just might be a psychopath after all. Judging by what he said to the corpse, however, the reaper began to suspect that he was dealing with demon. It did fit the picture quite well. Many demons could change their appearance at will, many were obsessed with pain, suffering, death etc. Strange breed of creatures, demons. It seemed that most demons couldn't feel any joy or excitement unless it included the suffering of others. Strange indeed. Not uncommon, of course. There were humans who were like that too.
"That poor fellow has no ID on him, you know. I could give you his name if you truly mean to inform his family of his demise. I would not recommend it though. More often than not, the messenger is blamed for the news he is carrying," the reaper's raspy voice had no trace of emotion in it, sounding very formal, in an eerie sort of way. Still with the pipe in his hand, the reaper pointed at the corpse. "I can also assure you that he died instantly. Nothing spectacular about it. Well, except for the sheer amount of blood that left his body upon impact. If you want some truly violent deaths, I suggest you visit the downtown area. There are some really shady characters roaming the streets at night."
Joshua's nose clogged with the pervasive odor of pipesmoke --strong now, not so far away and ignorable-- half a second before the thing behind him spoke. Grinning from ear-to-ear, he turned and was quite delighted to find himself the sudden acquaintance of a walking, talking --possibly dancing, wouldn't that be fun!-- skeleton, most likely a reaper judging from the cloak and scythe.
Scythe. Maybe Joshua could get one of those. It looked wickedly painful, and he thought that though the things had been made for taking off limbs snickle-snap quick, he could use one a lot more slowly than that, if he wanted. He could just hear the pleas like honeybees in his ears. But then, oh silly. It was rude to stare. He slid his eyes up to those of the reaper's (or skeleton's, he supposed it could be something else) and his grin faded from his face as he listened to its words. (It? Was it an it? He wondered if it was a he, judging from the voice that it expelled, but had skeletons ever associated with one sex or the other? Perhaps if Joshua were more studied in facial bone structure he could tell, but he was not.)
"You said he died upon impact? Huh." Joshua tutted sullenly, looking around. Then he brightened, and said, "Though he did paint this alley rather prettily, did he not? He would have made one heck of an interior decorator. And now he's become an exterior decoration. So everything works out, in the end." He paused. "You didn't happen to get a good look at his face when he slipped, did you? I was hoping for a peek, but it looks like he landed on his head, and you know what they say about Humpty Dumpty and not being able to be put back together again. His family will be simply horrified."
Joshua looked down for a moment, seeming to contemplate something with a tight little smile on his face, then glanced back up. He liked looking directly at the skeleton's eyes, they were really cool. Luminescent, and almost hypnotic, really. He couldn't imagine what fun the reaper could have by simply staring at someone too hard for too long. Maybe he could melt brains. Maybe he could get people to go insane. Though insanity wasn't the best of fun, not all the time. The inner turmoil wore off once a person could no longer depend on things like mental consistency and such. But that was off the subject. Joshua had a problem with that.
"You said you have his name? I'd take it, if you will. His family really should be informed, and I do hope he has a lot of children. The poor things'd just be terrified not knowing what had happened to Papa, and I can't leave them to wait around for human authorities to sort all this out. It could take hours, a day, or even two! It'd be better just to pop over with a Hallmark and give 'em the bad news, don'cha think? You could even come with, it'd be something to do and I really have never met a reaper before, not that I can remember. That is what you are, is it not? Not to be too straightforward in a situation like this, I know a lot of our kind of creepy-crawlies don't like people asking direct questions, but there are no humans around, so why not!" He stopped then, and toed one of the corpse's limp hands, this one still in pretty good condition having not been crushed to pulp in the fall. "Well, not alive humans, anyway. But you won't tell anyone, will you?" The last was addressed to the body, the tone of Joshua's voice nearly affectionate.
Post by Matuschkin on May 30, 2012 17:57:54 GMT -5
As expected, the man before him seemed to have a morbid fascination with death. Well, maybe not death per se, but the things that surrounded it. Such as the manner of death, whether the victim suffered or not. The reaper was now pretty certain that he wasn't dealing with a human. Still.. even for a werecreature or demon, this man didn't seem quite right. There was something about him that sent a temporary shiver down the reaper's spine. Don't get me wrong here, it was not out of fear, it was more out of not understanding the man before him. This meant that the reaper's very nature would force him to stay at the scene long enough to figure this person out. Curiosity had gotten the better of him.
"Why, yes.. the world does have a way to make things fit together.. and no, I didn't have the opportunity to look at his face, I'm afraid. Though I can imagine the expression on his face would be one of surprise and fear. That is the most common in deaths like this one.." the reaper replied calmly, seemingly not affected by the morbid nature of the question he had just been asked. Then again, why would a reaper be uncomfortable talking about death?
Oh, for the love of.. What was with the stare? Did he have to stare at his eyes? Sure, they were.. a bit odd, but.. The reaper did not like it when people looked straight into his eyes. He got the unnerving feeling of people looking straight into his very soul. Silly, of course. Very few people had the gift of reading into one's soul. Still, that didn't change the fact that it made him feel a bit uncomfortable about it all. To avoid this he turned and started pacing, very slowly, back and forth. His feet made a clicking noise as they connected with the ground, the sound of bones touching concrete. Aaah.. that was better. No eyes staring into him.
Hm. So he did want the name after all.. that was a bit unexpected. Of course, he'd probably get a kick out of telling the family that the father and husband had passed away in a most gruesome manner. And the man did have a point that there were no humans around. Well, live humans. Spending a little time with this one couldn't be that bad. Besides, he still wanted to know just what it was he was dealing with here. Very well.. "Tony Reyes. He lives a few miles away from here. It would take a while to get there," the reaper stated calmly. "And don't lump us non-humans all together as 'creepy-crawlies'. I do not want to be associated with, no offense, your kind, for example," the reaper stopped his pacing and shot a glare at the man. Not that the glare looked anything different from how he had looked at him before. It's pretty difficult to make facial expressions without a face.
Joshua could nearly feel the reaper's stare burning a hole in his retinas, but honestly he didn't mind. In fact it felt kind of bad, really bad like looking into the sun too long, but that was what made it good to him. Things that were bad generally made Joshua feel very, very good about life in general. And death, too.
But he could feel some sort of light animosity from the reaper, or maybe not quite that. Like a quiet discontent maybe, not really a hatred or unease. Just something. It was a familiar feeling to Joshua. A lot of people tended to dislike him, for some reason or another. And really he preferred it that way. He didn't know what he'd do if people started warming up to him. God, now that would be a horror. He'd probably have to hurt himself, maybe cut off his own nose to make himself less appealing. And actually. Now that he thought about it, that was a pretty good plan. That would probably suffice to keep them away. And he did have his pocketknife with him. Not really sharp enough for the job, he thought, but really. Was that such a bad thing? Then it would just be a matter of finding a mirror, and getting a good hold so he could effectively tear the flesh. And of course there'd have to be a hospital near enough by. It wasn't like he wanted to die, just beautify. Maybe he'd do it in a public place. So all the people could gather around and scream with laughter at the masochist. Ha-ha-ha, there goes his silly little nose! Ah-ha-ha, why don't you take an eye, too?
But there he went getting off topic again. It was so hard to avoid such things. Thinking about them soothed him, and so did the next words that the reaper said.
The skeleton gave the name --Tony Reyes-- and then went on to say, what was it exactly? "And don't lump us non-human all together as 'creepy-crawlies'." And then something about not wanting to be associated with Joshua's kind. He smiled amicably at that, holding his hands up and palm-out in the universal gesture for 'no problem here, man.' If he didn't want to squall in the mud and blood of the world with the rest of the crawlies, that was his choice. Joshua wasn't disturbed by his words, almost the opposite. Only if he'd really been disturbed by the reaper would he try to drag him down with the rest of them, but there was really no chance of him being so motivated, was there? No, no chance at all. Joshua was one to go with the flow.
And for now, that meant that he got to deliver some terrible news. He bowed to the reaper at the waist, a stiff and formal gesture, but his arms articulated extravagantly around his body as he did, and he was almost mocking. But not quite. Not now. Now it was fun. Now this was all cool, he and the reaper. They were cool, were they not? As cool as they could be, at least, chill little cucumbers waiting to be chomped like the rest but maybe they'd last a little longer than the others, just maybe. Supernaturals generally did if they played their lives like elevator music, and most fooled themselves into thinking that they had everything figured out. Joshua didn't try to make such claims. He didn't take himself for one of those. So maybe the reaper was right, after all. Maybe Joshua was something that needed to be apart from the rest. That was what he'd been for as long as he could remember, so why not now?
Well, why not?
He stood straight again, thinking of severed noses and sliced faces and dead bodies that exploded with blood when they hit the ground. And he smiled, turning his mind to families that waited at home. "Lead the way, my dear associate," he said to the reaper, and waited for him to move.
((Just tell me if you think the posts are too long and I can shorten them, okay?))
Post by Matuschkin on May 30, 2012 21:27:23 GMT -5
The reaper cocked his head slightly and would've blinked if he'd had eyelids. Really now, this man before was a real piece of work. Morbid enough to play around with the blood of a fresh corpse, yet calm enough to not take any offense at what the reaper had just said. There was hardly any reaction at all. Interesting.. this was a very.. complex character. In all of his many, many years wandering this Earth, he had seldom crossed such a unique mix of morbidity and calm. Most people who played around with blood got off on it, they would get excited, their adrenaline spiking. This one, however.. seemed more like a child in his behaviour. Innocent, almost. That was all.. so very disturbing. Yet it was what made this character, oh, so interesting.
Taking a long drag from his pipe, he blew a series of smoke rings into the air. Don't ask how this was done. Just.. don't. I shouldn't be possible since he doesn't have any lips and.. whatever. Fixing his eyes onto the smoke rings as they rose higher and higher until they vanished, he listened intently to the words that were spoken by this new acquaintance of his. "Lead the way"? "Dear associate"? No. No, no, no, no. Disappearing from view for a split second before appearing right in front of the man, the reaper poked the man's chest with the end of his pipe. "Now, listen.. What makes you think I will go anywhere with you? Except for that twisted mind of yours, you are of little interest to me, kiddo. I seriously doubt you will be entertaining enough for me to follow you all the way to Mr.Reyes' apartment," the reaper's voice still had no certain emotion to it, but there might just have been a tiny hint of insult in his voice.
Naturally, the reaper was only playing. While he didn't like being called "associate" by someone like this man, it was far from enough to actually annoy him. No, he was trying to get the man to open up a bit. Make him expose his feelings, his character. "And we are not associates. My business may be death, but that's all it is: business. I do not particularly enjoy any aspect of death. I have been around it long enough to know that there's nothing exciting or special about it. People die all the time. Whether it is peacefully in their sleep or accidental like this fellow here, people always die. How they lived up until the point of death, however, now that is interesting," the raspy voice stopped for a moment as the reaper turned to look at the last fading rays of sunlight as the sun finally set.
Now.. the reaper was interested enough to follow the man to the dead worker's family. The only problem was that reapers tend to draw quite a bit of attention to themselves if they stroll through the city. A skeleton clad in robes with a big scythe on its back is hard to miss and even harder to comprehend. If they were going, they sure as hell weren't going on foot. The man, however, didn't seem to realize that this problem was present. If you are certain you wish to visit Mr.Reyes family.. We will travel on my terms," as he spoke, the reaper put his pipe, still lit, inside his garments and offered the man his bony hand. The reaper couldn't help but to wonder: had the man ever experienced teleportation? If not, he was in for quite a ride.
(( I actually prefer longer posts ^^ and sorry about the delay between all my posts, I'm working on an essay ^^; ))
Joshua watched in good humor as the skeleton blew the smoke rings, and inhaled deeply at the stinging scent that burned his sensitive nose. He figured that the reaper would have no such problem. Did one in such a form as a skeleton smell, taste, feel? He had the vague suspicion that the reaper could feel emotionally --yes, yes he very much thought that he could feel in that sense of the term-- but what about physically? Without visible skin to cover nerves, he wondered. But then again the skeleton moved, did it not? And it had no visible muscles to do so. So he had to assume that despite his body, the reaper could sense in every way that he himself could, and perhaps in ways beyond. This reaper seemed rather intelligent after all, and--
Joshua was surprised when the skeleton suddenly disappeared. He'd been lost in thought and hardly paying attention, but couldn't recall the creature saying anything like a farewell. How odd.
But then, quick as a flash, the reaper reappeared. And the guy was irritated, it seemed. So sudden, volatile, and fast like a switch had been flicked! Amazing! Fantastic! Joshua grinned widely at the pipe that the skeleton poked into his chest, and then up at the face of the skull that flashed out harsh words that might have been intending to insult, but nevermind that.
As Joshua was being berated --berated by a reaper, this was great! Maybe the bony bloke would get his scythe out!-- something that the skeleton said broke through to Joshua, and then he was tilting his head sideways back at the reaper to look him straight in the face, trying to catch the guy's eyes. He thought that the skeleton didn't like that --something that had happened before, pacing-- but he didn't mind it himself. The skeleton could look away if he wanted. Joshua had never minded intimate eye-contact. In fact, he preferred to stare people straight in the eye for as long as possible. And he didn't blink much, either. Afraid he'd miss something maybe, though he'd never seen anything in anyone's eyes to make him think that.
His voice was low and almost gentle as he spoke, but rapidly gained emotion and speed as he continued. "How they lived up until the point of death, you say? That is what interests you? My--" But what was the skeleton to him, who apparently didn't like being an 'associate?' Joshua could call him that but it might distract him from the conversation, so instead he went on, "My-- new acquaintance, that is precisely what I've been interested in. Just in a far shorter term, of course. Do you think that anything any one of the humans does in the span of their tiny life means anything in the complete history of time? Even things that we ourselves as supernaturals do now --short of altering the Gods, perhaps-- mean nothing. Do you think that someone like me should care about the simple facts of a human's day-to-day life? What is the most important aspect of their life but their death? Why should I linger over how they lived when I could instead inspect the very last moments of their life-- which are the most important, by far. The emotions that they feel at the end must be the most potent ones they have ever felt, if only because all emotion for them will end soon after. Don't you see--" but here he broke himself off. His voice had begun to raise, and no. No, he would not do that.
Joshua had felt himself starting to move towards some sort of edge --not a literal edge, not like the silly man that lay crumpled and still and bloodless at their feet-- and took a mental half-step back. He hadn't realized as he had been speaking that he'd also been getting closer to the reaper, and he took that closeness as an excuse to "travel on the reaper's terms," laying his own hand lightly in the grasp of the other --he'd wanted to touch the reaper, feel living bone (perhaps hoping that it was different somehow than a dead human's) since the moment that the skeleton had appeared behind him, but Joshua had refrained until now. He took a breath, not any deeper than the others, but it somehow felt more significant. He spoke again, and his voice had lowered far back from what it had just become, settling into an almost dreamy tone of tranquility, with perhaps just a hint of sheepishness. "I am certain," he said quietly, and his eyes had gone half-lidded like he was trying to put himself to sleep, "Let's visit our happy family and move on, why don't we?"
((Don't worry about the delay! Essays can be pretty lame, I completely understand.))
Oh kids these days.. Did this man really not think that one human could change the world? Did he know nothing of history? To be fair, this one didn't seem like the scholar-type, so perhaps he just didn't know any better. It was interesting, however, to see how worked up he was getting just talking about this. Most interesting. Especially the part about emotions being the strongest the moments before death occurred. Well, sure, that was true. The intense feelings of fear and agony were quite overwhelming for those that were about to die. But what about things like joy? Imagine the mind numbing simultaneous release of joy by millions of people as Churchill declared VE-day in early May 1945. Now that had been something of note. The reaper had heard fleeting rumours about demons getting an involuntary overdose on human emotion when the news hit media.
Grasping the man's hand in tight grip, bone pressing against skin, the reaper gazed intently at the man. He seemed sure enough of himself. Fine, if he so badly wanted to break the bad news to the dead worker's family, who was this reaper to stand in his way? Hell, it might even lead to some even more interesting turn of events with any luck. "Hold on tight, kid. And try not to spew your guts out when we get there," With those words the pair disappeared from the harbor, seemingly into thin air. A split second later they appeared in an alley behind an apartment building a few miles away. The reaper was used to travel by means of teleportation, hell it was his only way of transportation these days. The man with him, however, would probably find it taking a toll on his body. Acute dizziness and disorientation weren't uncommon for first-time teleporters. Well, as long as he didn't throw up all over the reaper's robes..
Letting go of the man's hand, he turned his back towards him and gazed up to a window on the fifth floor where a single light was shining. That was where Mr.Reyes' family were. That had been his home until this very night. Now the place would only have two inhabitants. Mr.Reyes' teenage son and wife. "Joan of Arc was just a poor farmer's daughter, you know. Yet she marched right into the court of Charles VII of France and led his armies to several major victories in the hundred years' war. I'd say that qualifies as an action that means something in the history of time. Then again, I suppose you mean to include time before man, and what will follow the demise of man as well.. I imagine the former to have been very dull, and the second to be even more so," the reaper seemed almost lost in thought for a moment before turning to face the man again.
"It's the apartment on the fifth floor. You will know what door it is, there is a wooden cross on it. Try to avoid giving the old lady a heart-attack, I've already had my fill for tonight.." The man would have to venture in by himself, of course. Not only did the clicking sound of bone echo something terrible in stairs, but people might grow suspicious of a hooded skeleton with a scythe on its back.
"Hold on tight, kid. And try not to spew your guts out when we get there."
Joshua tightened his grip on the reaper's hand --somehow just thinking that amused him-- and then they were gone and back, but somewhere else. And--
A crippling sensation of wooziness forced itself like a flood of oily water through Joshua's head, and he took a staggering step forward, automatically grasping out into thin air to catch something to help keep himself on his feet. His hand passed through nothing, and he fought to keep himself from tumbling over --London bridge-- to the ground.
For a moment, he couldn't remember anything, and he was scared. He didn't know where he was, he didn't know what he was doing or how he'd gotten there or why. He didn't know the dark-robed figure that stood in front of him, and some deep emotion that he naturally shied away from rushed up in him. Some deep emotion, and he wanted to hurt the figure in front of him, wanted to bite and tear and rend the flesh. But--
But no. No, the reaper. No flesh and no biting, no biting Joshie, hold steady, this was just--
"Try not to spew your guts out," the reaper had said.
Joshua's face --which had just been contorted in a mixture of very real pain and fear-- suddenly twisted to a wicked smile as an overpowering sense of nausea slid its greasy way through his guts, but at least his head was coming back. His mind was reeling, his perceptions narrowed only to the figure that stood speaking before him --something about Joan of Arc-- and he gasped out, so low that perhaps the skeleton could not hear or perhaps it could, "That was fun." His eyes had widened slightly, giving his grin a more demented look, but what did that matter? What did anything matter when he kept reliving the terrible emotions that the reaper with his glorious teleportation had drudged up, when he kept feeling that awful, awe-inspiring sense of being nothing and then being forced to be something again and not knowing what but just popping back into space? He inhaled deeply, controlling the nausea, and let out a little coughing laugh. And the reaper was finishing his speech, "I imagine the former to have been very dull, and the second to be even more so," and Joshua straightened, holding back the retching-feeling that was slowly diminishing within him. And he replied, his voice slightly haggard and deeper, just slightly, "Then you do not have much of an imagination, my sir." Then the reaper was turning to face him again, and Joshua wondered if he had become as pale as the skull in front of him out in the half-light of the night, under the stars and streetlights, and he certainly hoped that he had.
"Your fill," Joshua said contemplatively, and then he added, almost disappointed --and half because the nausea and confusion were gone now-- "You're not coming?" Like they were good friends and this was some door-to-door prank they were pulling; you stand in the bushes and when she answers the door jump out! He looked up at the one stoic light that remained in the single fifth-floor window --waiting for dearest-- and then said, off-hand, "Then I won't take too long."
Before even he knew what he was doing, he leaned back, sucked in a big gulp of air, and then boomed at the window, "Hey, lady! Mrs. Reyes, please, may I have your attention! Though you may think you rule over others" --such a pretentious name, Reyes-- "there is still one who rules over you, and Death's come a'callin' tonight! To the window, alight!"
It was to be expected that the man would feel quite uncomfortable after his first experience with teleportation. It's not everyday that your body gets dematerialized just to materialize an instant later. As you can imagine, it takes quite a toll on the body. Still, he was holding up quite well. He didn't fall over, didn't throw up, didn't faint. That was actually a bit impressive. A bit too impressive for any human, adding more to the feeling that it was most likely a demon that he was dealing with. The reaper also realized that while the man was holding up well under the circumstances, he probably hadn't had much chance to listen to what he'd just told him about Joan of Arc. Not that it mattered, really. It was just a bit of history of what happened long ago in a place relatively far away.
When the man pointed out that the reaper didn't have much of an imagination, he wasn't wrong. The reaper didn't care much for his own imagination, hence his fascination with other people. "I suppose I do not have much of an imagination. I do not quite see the need for me to have it. I leave that part to people better suited to it" the reaper calmly explained. Heh, the man did seem taken aback by the teleportation though, his face was rather pale. Yet he seemed to enjoy the uneasiness that he just been brought upon him. Some kind of masochist? Not unlikely. Pain for pleasure was not as uncommon as people thought. Especially not among the non-human residents of the planet. Demons in particular seemed to have this trait, at least in the reaper's experience.
To the man's question whether he wasn't coming along, the reaper simply shook his head. Just as he was about to explain to him why he wasn't going with him, the man started yelling at the window the reaper had pointed out. This surprised the reaper. If he'd had eyebrows he would have raised them. What is he thinking? Keep yelling like that and you will wake the entire neighbourhood.. the reaper thought to himself. The thought of hiding before the lady came to the window did strike the reaper, but there weren't many places to hide in an empty alley. Besides, he got the feeling that if he did hide, this man would probably point and shout at him so the woman would notice him anyway. He could just teleport away from there and leave the man in the alley.. but that wouldn't be very interesting, would it now? Fine, the reaper would play along, for now. After all, it had been a long time since he'd played the "I am Death"-card.
As the woman opened the window, she yelled in broken English for them to keep quiet, and that she was trying to watch TV. Not a very pleasant sort of character it seemed. Her words came to a sudden stop when she noticed the figure standing next to the man who had shouted for her attention. From the fifth floor she could only barely make out a pair of blue, glowing dots. But as a reflex she put her glasses on, making her able to see the white skull to which the blue dots belonged. Grabbing the cross around her neck, she started rambling in Spanish, making a cross over her chest with her free hand. That did amuse the reaper a bit, to be perfectly honest. Why would prayers save you from Death? If you believed that God had created and controlled everything, then he had most likely also created Death. And why would you fear Death? If you were a good christian, you'd just go to heaven, correct? Humans.. an endless source of entertainment.
"She seems upset, and you have not even told her about her husband yet"
Joshua smiled as the woman started babbling in Spanish. He had never bothered to remember other languages. He thought that he'd once known others; that he'd learned to speak in different ways at different points in time, but all of those instances had faded from him some while ago. Perhaps once he'd even known Spanish, but now the knowledge was long gone. Despite his lack of language memory, however, he got enough of what Widower Reyes was saying --from her posture, gesturing, and the way she clutched at her crucifix-- that it was some mumbo-jumbo about God and heaven, probably a warding against the "devil" or against Death itself. Funny lady.
He grinned over at the reaper --conceivably the skeleton next to him could be something else, unlikely though-- and then looked back up at the woman. "I'd like for you to listen up. Open your ears and heart, will you not?"
At moments like these he always become unsure of what he was saying. There was a tragic feeling that arose, a desperate thing, a choking that whispered that if he delivered the wrong words something terrible would happen, that he would not have an effect on his audience. It was something of a terror for him, and already his blood seemed to thicken and slow, and there wasn't enough air so that he was forced to make one small, harmless, hurting gasp. He swallowed hard, his throat gone suddenly so dry that it made a ticking noise, and could feel his palms begin to sweat. Here he was, the actor, and he had stage fright. For a moment he thought he could see a spotlight shining in his eyes, feel the searing heat of millions of beings watching and waiting, feel the pain of their collective attention --it was malice and adoration!-- like lava bubbling against his skin. Then he wiped his hands on his pants --oh, look, he was wearing jeans, how extraordinary!-- and his faltering grin became more fierce.
In fact, his fierce grin came off so strong that it rather seemed a baring of the teeth, and that was a-okay. With new heart --and still it beat as weak as a child's-- he went on. "You may have recognized my associate here." He gestured in the direction of the reaper. "You've probably met him, or someone very much like him, before. Perhaps your parents have passed, dear thing, or friends? Other family? Yes, I can see on your face that you've had some experience in the matter." His face suddenly grew flat, expressionless. "Perhaps you remember, I'm sure you do, flowers that smell sweet as death, and preservatives, a pickled person in a shiny box that will nonetheless rot into nonexistence. And the tears and hugs and remembrances, the speeches that talk of life and death, of friendships ended and partners torn apart. Children separated from parents and spouses, even spouses-- what is it they say? Until death do us part?" He took a deep breath.
"I want you to remember, can you do that for me? I want you to think of the people who mean the most to you. I want you to think of all the fun and joy and peace of their lives around yours, a blanket of sorts. I want you to remember their smiles, your shared love. Who is it that allows you to pay the rent? Do you work or is it someone else, or both of you? I want you to think of all of your possessions --the friendly television that I have interrupted-- and their significance to you and your family. Think of your home, and the memories that you have built within it. Think of everything in the world that makes you happy. Can you do that?"
He stopped and found that his hands were shaking. He stuffed them ungraciously in his pockets, and felt the sting of the worn cloth against his knuckles. His fingers itched from the touch, uncomfortable. He stretched them so that they'd be forced to feel more of the soft cloth that disgusted him.
Very quietly now, so quietly that the woman would have to strain to hear, Joshua said, "My associate and I have been witness to a terrible accident. I will not speak of the details-- they are too gruesome for imagination." He fought to keep his face straight, and his whole body was trembling now, and still he felt so weak like his heart might just give out. "I cannot keep myself from making one simple request. Think of that person whom you love the most --the one you married, and who perhaps has fathered your children-- and wonder. Why isn't he home? Is he working late? Or has something happened-- but no. I shouldn't. Perhaps, simply, you should give him a call."
And Joshua looked to the reaper and said plainly, "I think we can go now."
((If you wanted Matuschkin to have a more active part in this, just say the word and I'll rewrite.))
The man was putting on quite a show for the old woman. His words were.. harsh. And they were many. The reaper listened with some interest at the horrible things the man shouted, observing him as he did. He seemed to be suffering, somehow.. He was sweating, his hands shaking.. But as much as he seemed to be suffering, he also seemed to enjoy it to no end. That devilish grin on his face said more than words ever could on the matter. He definitely enjoyed being in pain. No doubt about it, the man was a masochist, most likely a sadomasochist. Nothing unexpected, there were a lot of people like that. He was a bit over the top, sure, no arguing there. Still, the reaper had seen worse cases.
The old woman didn't seem to be able to comprehend everything that was said to her, mainly 'cause she seemed petrified at the presence of the reaper. Also a perfectly normal thing to happen in this circumstances. Oh well, at least the man appeared to have satisfied his needs. There was just one thing that bothered the reaper at this point.. You'd think it was the fact that a human had seen him, but that didn't bother him at all. After all, the woman's husband had just passed away, if she told people that she had seen the Grim Reaper, people would naturally assume that it was caused by the stress of losing her spouse. Who actually believed in things such as Death in this day and age anyway? Yes, so, the thing that bothered the reaper was actually something that the man had said..
"Are you intentionally ignoring everything I say? I told you; we are not associates. You are not a reaper, and I sure as hell am not taking you on as my apprentice. So, please, stop referring to me as your associate or anything remotely similar to it. In case you do not remember, we just met a little while ago. I do not even know your name, and you do not know mine. We barely qualify as having met each other" the reaper wasn't exactly annoyed yet, but he was getting there. Seriously, he had practically nothing in common with this man here. Well, except for the fact that they were both "supernaturals". "Now, if you are done here, I suggest we leave before she gets her mind in order and calls for police, ambulance, family and so on. I would say we have another thirty seconds or so before she comes to," Reaching his hand out to the man like he had before, the reaper silently gazed upon the man.
Now that the man had satisfied his twisted needs, there was no use in sticking around in this alley. Besides, if more people were to see him, it was more likely that people would actually believe in his existence. And it was about time that he found out a little more about this.. man.
Joshua rocked back on his heels as the reaper spoke, almost as if the guy had affronted him. He glanced up at the woman, wondering if what the reaper was saying was undermining the speech that he had just toiled through, but it was curious: she seemed to be frozen in time. Joshua was torn between hoping that her heart had given out and wishing that it hadn't. The way he saw it, it was a win-win; if she lived, she'd have to deal with the death of her splattered husband. If she died, though, her child(ren) would have to shoulder the grief of losing both parents, and that was definitely something that would build character, yes siree.
So maybe he was leaning towards death, but what can you do?
To the reaper he said, failing to fight back the strange warmth that had spread through his chest at the woman's obvious dismay (it was almost a spike in adrenaline), "Oh, yes! I forgot! How ridiculous! How silly! How simply marvelous of me! In all the excitement of the evening, it completely slipped my mind! Introductions are to be called for!" He took the reaper's outstretched hand as if the skeleton had been offering a handshake, and briskly pumped it up and down. "Yes, yes. Well. You may have been wondering --though perhaps not!-- my name! They call me Joshua, Joshie, Buggins, Perkins, Bean, Sprout, Jack, Box, Roxie, or-- though perhaps we should just stick to Josh. Joshua, that is. Call me Joshua." He shook his head with a sheepish grin as if he'd let himself ramble on too long --imagine that!
Joshua had already almost completely lost track of grieving Mrs. Reyes. He was, it appeared, a rather fickle creature. He'd already decided that whether or not she was dead or dying no longer mattered to him; either way he won and she lost. Not that it was a matter of winning and losing, in fact Joshua didn't often like to win at all. Losing was much more interesting to him. That feeling of being crushed. But nevermind-- what had he just distracted himself from? Oh yes. Introductions. He found he was still shaking the skeleton's hand and stopped, though his grip remained. "What, may I inquire, do you call yourself?" He leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially, "And if you don't mind me asking, if you will not accept 'associate' or 'acquaintance' what would you have your title be? Or maybe no title, perhaps nothing, nothing at all? And speaking of nothing. . ." He noticed for the first time that the widower had faded from her spot at the window. In his sudden animation and jolliness he hadn't seen her move, not even in his peripherals. Tut tut. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and kept his other hand gripped tightly to the reaper's. "It might behoove us to hoof it. Looks like our thirty seconds are up."
"Joshua", eh? Quite an unorthodox and plain name for a demon. Almost certainly not the man's real name, but no matter. The reaper never used his real name either. Names got worn out over time, so it was only natural to want to go by a different one every now and then. Imagine having to stick around with the same name for centuries on end. Given the business the reaper was in, his name would eventually be be known, which would not be good at all. Not to mention how boring it would be to hear people address you in the same way every day for a couple of hundred years. Ugh.. the reaper almost shivered at the very thought of the utter boredom. Shaking the unpleasant thought from his mind, the reaper noted that the man was still shaking his hand.. quite a long handshake for a simple introduction. They had to be in physical contact for the teleportation to work on both of them, true, but he didn't have to rip his arm off.
Now then, as the man had inquired; what did he call himself? Hm. A perfectly valid question. Before getting the opportunity to answer, however, the man went on to ask what "title" he wanted to be addressed by. The reaper didn't get any chance to answer this either. Just as the man had pointed out, the time for them was up. They had to go pretty much right now. So without further ado the reaper tightened his grip of the man's hand, and then they were gone. Not a single trace left of them in the alley. The very next moment they appeared on a rooftop some distance away from where Mr.Reyes had fallen to his death. The reaper figured that they might as well go back to the harbor. Even if police were coming to investigate the body soon, they wouldn't waste any energy looking around the rooftops of every building in the harbor.
Realizing that the man was dangerously close to the edge of the rooftop, the reaper, still holding his hand, pulled him away from the edge before letting go of him. Since he would be disoriented from the teleportation, he would most likely stumble around for a moment before regaining his wits. Doing that while standing at the edge of a rooftop would lead to death, and since the reaper was the one who brought him there, he would be responsible. It wasn't like he hadn't caused people to die in the past, he most certainly had, but if the man had died here it would serve no purpose. Pointless deaths were quite disappointing. Not to mention boring.
Facing the man, the reaper cracked his knuckles before speaking. "Well, Joshua.. You can call me 'M'.. Reaper, historian, consultant," the reaper said with a shrug. He was many things, depending on the situation. Up until right now, he had been an observer. Flicking a card out from his right sleeve and into his bony hand, the reaper placed it in the hand of the man. The card was black, had a white skull on one side, and the letter 'M' along with a phone number on the other. "If you find yourself in a situation where you do not know what to do, or simply wish to get something off your chest, give me a call. As long as it is something interesting, of course. Do not bother me with trivial matters that will bore me to death. No pun intended.."
((So sorry about the delay >.<; Was going to post last night, but there was an incident during a fishing trip that involved my thigh and a wobbler's hook being stuck in it <.<..))
Last Edit: Jun 6, 2012 21:21:50 GMT -5 by Matuschkin
