deaths_head | don't fear the reaper (rp for wearenotbroken)

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don't fear the reaper (rp for wearenotbroken)

"What can I get you?"

"Coffee, black."

The waitress took his order and headed away, leaving the massive biker to his thoughts as he sat in a little coffee shop just off the Strip. The neighborhood was a more or less suburban setting, and yet his motorcycle was still not altogether out of place where it was parked outside, his tattooed arms and black leather kutte earning him fewer stares than they probably should have.

The Shade was used to sticking out like a sore thumb, hence his chosen human guise...and yet it was the kind of ill fitting image that had its place--especially in a town like Las Vegas.

It was a town he always enjoyed returning to, when there were souls to be collected there. Elements of the city reminded him a bit of his day and age, a rebel outlier carving itself a memorable and powerful swath in the middle of the desert. Even now, in this modern age, it had the same frontier spirit as the people he'd been raised with out in Silverstone as a boy.

The souls he brought to the Vale from this place were always some of his favorite.

Eventually, his coffee came, and the Shade wasted no time in taking a long, scalding swallow with a grateful sigh. There were precious few things he truly missed about being among the living, but one of them was a good cup of strong, black coffee. What little he let himself remember of his human life often came back to these simplest of pleasures he was unable to let go of: a cup of strong coffee, a Sunday dinner of fried chicken and vegetables from Mamma's garden, even his motorcycle was reminiscent of the ornery stallion he'd gotten for a song from a breeder back in Santa Fe, an ornery old horse that refused to be broken--he never had been able to put tack on that beast, bless his heart.

The Shade was distracted from his thoughts by an arrival at the door of the coffee shop, a lone girl of seventeen or eighteen. She was tiny as he was massive, a blinding light of pure, living energy with dark hair and dimples--and when she looked in his direction, bore the mark of death in her eyes.

Struck him as mighty ironic that a life mage was destined to die--he recognized the power, and he wasn't happy with the notion...but at least he could give her some warning, and a second chance after the end.

So it was that, when her head spun in his direction, the teenage girl saw not a biker, but a vision of the past, wide brimmed hat sitting on the table respectfully as blood red hair spilled across his shoulders. What little was visible of his tattoos beneath his black leather longcoat glowed with an aura of purple light, and instead of steel grey eyes, sightless orbs of white watched her, sparking with the light of pure lightning.

And there was no question about it: the death god that no one else seemed to be able to see was watching her, and her alone.

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Completely unaware of the way her life was about to change, Courtney Marteniz walked into the coffee shop with a smile on her face as she thought about what kind of drink she was going to get. She only had an hour or so before she was supposed to meet up with some friends for a dance class which meant that she needed a bit of a caffeine fix.

Flipping some curls back from her face, she stepped into the line and then shifted to look over the room. It was a brief look as her eyes fell on the biker and froze. Almost immediately, the world seemed to shift and go completely sideways as her breath went still in her chest.

At first, she thought it was a trick of the eye but blinking couldn't wipe away what she was seeing. A quick look at the others told her that no one else saw him too.

The Shade.

Being a life mage, she knew a bit about death and she most certainly knew the thing that she was looking at now. She had only heard stories of him before but she knew she wasn't making a mistake in her assumptions. She also knew that if she was seeing him, then she was in a lot of trouble.

"Fuck."

There was a lot in that angelic little face as she watched him: shock, confusion, and most unusual, there was recognition. Wouldn't be the first soul he'd claimed that knew the stories, the safe ones that kept prying eyes outta his damn business...

...what he didn't see, however, was the thing that bothered and confused the hell out of him: fear.

More resolved than he was a moment before to make sure this soul belonged to him, he raised one gloved hand and crooked a finger at her, beckoning the little life mage to join him at his table.

It was strange because it hadn't even crossed her mind to fear him. She suspected most people would be scared shitless at the moment and would consider trying to run away from him but she didn't see the point. Instead, she let out a little huff as she held up a finger and turned away to make an order when it was her time to.

Yes, she just told him to wait.

Ordering herself a drink full of caffeine and sugar along with a danish, she paid and moved to the side where people waited to get their order. Once she had it, she glanced over to make sure he was still waiting for her before she made her way over. Setting her drink and dish on the table, she shrugged out of her jacket and set it on the back of her chair. The outfit she was wearing underneath could be described as a dress though some would call it a tunic too. And nothing else.

"Are you shielding us so people can't see us talking or do you have glamour up?" She asked without greeting, dropping into the chair across from him.

The girl either had a death wish or a spine made of iron, he couldn't decide which as he simply watched her stop a waitress and place an order. When she had her coffee and danish, she came to his table, shucked off her jacket (which a long forgotten sense of living modesty made him want to put the hell back on her), and just started talking.

He raised a dubious eyebrow when she questioned him about magic. Blinking a little, he shook his head, never moving in his seat as he faced her with the stillness of the dead.

"Them marked for death are the only ones that know me for what I am in this realm." he informed her, his bass voice resonating with power, and heavy with the deep sound of grave dirt on a coffin lid. "Being a life mage don't make you special that way."

"So glamour." She replied somewhat dryly before sighing. "And I'm well aware that being what I am won't give me some kind of free pass. I know this sort of thing is inevitable but..."

It still wasn't fear that ran through her then but a ton of other emotions that temporarily gripped her by the throat, making it hard for her to breathe. "How is it going to happen?"

"Never mind." She stopped him from answering before he could even open his mouth, shaking her head. She had to press her lips together then but there was no hiding the slight tremble to her chin until she did. She looked down at the danish before her, drawing in a slight breath and letting out. "If you started telling people how it was going to happen, they would start looking for ways to get out of it and you can't have that. So just tell me how long I have?"

She looked up at him as she asked, her dark eyes surprisingly sharp though they swirled with conflicting emotions.

He would have told her--the truth, being that he had no idea--but she stopped him, and just...plowed through. Without fear, without trepidation, he watched the grief and anger and confusion struggle to claim hold of her as she asked for a timeline. That was more normal, at least...that was, at least, something he understood.

"You got seven days, and the wrong damn idea 'bout what I do." he replied, the tiniest hint of his drawl seeping through. "I don't come to flaunt my claim or drag a soul to the Pit, little mage--I bring comfort in the warning. Ain't often a body gets the chance to wrap things up 'fore they go...settle their affairs, make their peace. Gives you time to say goodbye...and I will offer whatever help I can, s'long as you agree to come with me at the end."

Her eyes flicker up to him again when she notes the hint of a drawl in his words. At first glance, one might dismiss her eyes as being brown but that was far too simple of a description for them. The warm chocolate color was ringed by a darker brown that bordered on black, making the color pop. Add in little flecks of amber and lighter shades of brown, her eyes seemed to be constantly dancing with an inner light that few possessed these days. It was most likely a reflection of her power or maybe it was more.

"Seven days." It wasn't really all that much when it came to making sure she had everything handled and her breath trembled before she steeled herself again. It was more than she would have gotten if she'd had no warning at all. Leaning her elbows against the edge of the table, she picked up the danish and started tearing it apart with ash-colored, manicured nails. Not that she was eating now.

"It's probably better you than anyone else, isn't it?" She murmured, tearing another larger piece off the side of the danish before offering it to him, the cream cheese and cherry filling smeared across her fingertips.

The Shade blinked at that, taken off guard by the observation. Nothing but the look in those eyes, all but sparkling and singing with life, was anything typical--and even that was off, because she was so totally unafraid.

"That ain't something I hear very often." he replied, watching her tear off a chunk of her danish and offer it to him. It was a very simple, very human gesture, too distracted and steady to be an attempt at manipulation. He regarded her dubiously for a long moment, then reached across the table to accept the piece of food. As he did, the glow of power in his eyes faded, the blinding white of lightning dimming to reveal slate grey eyes, as cold as hers were warm, as clear and unforgiving as hers were dark and inviting. When they did sparkle, it wasn't with life, but with that unbridled fury of thunder and lightning that seemed to be all that animated him.

For a moment, he simply held her offering in hand...and with a thoughtful look at that inconsequential piece of food, for an instant he seemed to suddenly dissolve, a haze of dark, foreboding looking fog or thunderclouds before he coalesced again in his human guise. The hat on the table was gone, and the longcoat had been reduced to a to a biker's kutte over a sleeveless t-shirt, his long hair bound back in a tight braid, covered by a bandanna and no longer the color of old blood, but a more human shade of vibrant auburn.

Only then did he take a bite of his chunk of danish, considering the piece of food with a dour, dubious expression as he chewed and swallowed...then set the sweet treat down on a nearby napkin and reached for his coffee for a long, scalding, cleansing swallow.

"What makes you think I'm a better choice 'n Heaven or Hell?" he finally asked, the Southern drawl far more audible as he sat there, not as a god, but a pretense of a living man.

"What do you mean? The bit about you being better?" She asked, waiting for him to take the chunk of danish from her before she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked off the filling that lingered there. It was a mindless action as she looked down at the torn up pieces up her plate and had no desire to eat them. Once the filling was off her fingers, she picked up the napkin to dry them off while glancing up in time to see the white glow fade from his eyes.

Then she watched the rest of the change and found herself momentarily struck dumb by what she was seeing in front of her. The human guise was interesting but, more than that, she found him...attractive. It was such an odd, passing thought that she actually blinked at herself when she realized what it was. Her lips parted slightly in surprise before she pressed them together and looked down once more. She told herself it was a knee-jerk reaction and one she might have normally had if she had seen him without the whole freaky bit beforehand.

"Hmm?" She blinked up at him again before clearing her throat, shrugging a little. "I haven't seen hide nor hair of Heaven and I don't really like the other option. So, there we go. You're here and you're better."

"You've never seen hide nor hair of me, either, little mage." he pointed out around a second sip of coffee. "When you saw me just now, though, you recognized me. Means you know some of the lore."

Setting his coffee down, he watched her lick her fingers and wipe them clean--and it made him uncomfortable. Back in his day, it wasn't the kind of behavior that was even in the same solar system as 'decent,' for one thing...and it brought back memories he'd not let himself dwell on in a century or more. Things like watching Mama cook, and licking cake batter off her fingers after smudging it on Baby Zeke's nose...or watching Sissy Lawson, the silversmith's daughter, daintily sucking clean the spoon she'd used to stir her tea with a wicked gleam in cornflower blue eyes he never could look into without turning as red as his goddamn hair...

"Means you know some folks think I'm worse than the Devil." he continued, blinking a little and meeting her gaze again with something almost like a smile. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"I'm seeing it now." She countered, curling her hands around her cup so she could enjoy the heat sinking into her palms. Then she lifted the cup to her lips, taking a small sip before lowering the cup and nodding. "I know enough."

Unaware of his thoughts and the way he struggled with them, she let her own thoughts drift as she started to think about the things she would need to wrap up. She would need to make sure that her sanctuary would have a new owner and there were things that she wanted to leave for her parents. There were friends she had to check in with but only a couple that she would tell the truth too. She would have to talk to Ed too and that thought made her sigh.

"Because you're not." It was said with certainty as she focused on him, drawing her thoughts back to the man sitting across from her. "Would you rather I was scared or angry?"

"Be easier to understand, that's for damn sure." he replied honestly. "There's only three things the dead can truly feel, little mage: fear, anger, and bliss, the perfect peace of eternal rest. They don't know joy, nor love, nor hatred...a soul whose life is at an end ain't half as complex as it is when it has a body with a beatin' heart. Things are far simpler when you're dead--it's one of the comforts of the grave."

Shifting his weight, The Shade leaned forward, the at of folding his long legs under inadvertently jostling hers as he folded broad forearms along the edge of the table so he could close some of the distance between them.

"Part of the comfort I bring with the warning's that knowledge." he went on, then sighed with a rueful little twist of his lips that couldn't quite be called a smile this time. "You are right, though: Devil hates me almost as much as the Lord does for the souls I steal outta their care. And in seven days, one of 'em will get you, 'less you make a real and conscious choice to come with me...which you seem to have made without a word from me, 'less I miss my guess."

Courtney listened as he explained what it was like for the dead, bringing the cup back to her lips where she blew a steady stream of air over the top of the hot liquid to cool it down a bit before she took another sip. She knew that she was confusing him and a part of her was amused by it but she was a bit confused too. She wondered if there was something wrong with her that she wasn't freaking out and she told herself that it would come later.

The feel of his legs bumping against hers was a nice distraction as she blew out a breath, setting the cup down once more.

"I might have." She told him then with a little nod, still leaning against the table and watching him. She was aware of the fact that he was leaning in close again which left very little space between them. The way they were sitting would suggest a level of intimacy between them and she found herself suddenly chuckling at the random idea that people would probably think they were a couple. She forced herself to sober so he wouldn't ask what she was chuckling at. "Uh. What is your world like? The place where you would take me?"

"Somewhere with a name the living don't know." he replied quietly, watching her blow on her coffee. "But it ain't no place of rest, it's a place where life continues. People live, they work, they wake and sleep...they continue on in a world that, while rough frontier, is small and peaceful. It's a realm of perfect twilight, where the day always shines with pearl gray light."

With a sigh, he leaned in and ran a hand back over his hair, but there was a slight softening to his features. "It's...a true frontier. A land you can shape to be whatever you want from it."

"I don't suppose it has a dance studio, huh?" She asked, her tone somewhat dry as she watched him lean in a bit closer as well. It was strange to feel his energy brushing against her own, their auras of power nearly touching and sending a little bolt of electricity through her. It wasn't like anything she had ever felt before but she was going to assume that it had something to do with them being on opposite ends of the spectrum.

"So, seven days and then you just...come get me?" Setting her cup down, she tore another piece off of her danish and offered it to him again while watching his face.

"No, Miss." he replied, feeling that same charge of opposite poles, sparking and pushing at each other, magnets that repelled and attracted all at the same time. Ghosts of memory he hadn't let into his head for a century teased at the edge of his consciousness, old habits from life creeping back in as he watched her with a slightly softer gaze, addressed her with a touch more respect rather than the authority of a god.

"Not somethin' I'd expect a life mage to have any familiarity with, but I'll come before your last day." he explained. "I got no knowledge of the means by which you die, but I can claim your soul 'fore your life actually ends. Might make your last day a bit hard to remember after, since the connection to your body'll be severed, but it means you won't feel no pain when your end comes." He paused, a look of disdain and a kernel of something black, something angry touching his expression.

"Ain't something most Reapers think or care to do...they wait 'till your heart stops beating. I spare my souls that trauma."

The rage left as fast as it came, and if Courtney looked very closely, there might have even been a glimmer of something like good humor in his grey eyes.

"I also got no problem fixin' my souls up with an empty building if they got plans for nonsense like a dance studio."

Edited 2017-01-12 20:45 (UTC)

Unaware that he was being haunted by the ghosts of his past, of another life, she continued to ponder what would happen to her next. There was some blessing to knowing ahead of time when her life was going to end but she could almost find herself wishing that she didn't know a thing. It seemed terribly daunting and nearly impossible to wrap her mind around. She wondered if it would feel real later on when she wasn't talking to him. If it would get worse with every day and every step she took closer to the end.

She paused again, looking up at him as she felt a spark of anger from his direction. For a moment she was tempted to ask what would happen if she didn't go anything on her last day but she knew it was pointless. Death was a vicious and determined fellow, she knew that. It could change on a whim, changing the way she died if she decided to try changing anything about her end. Where she might normally die by getting hit by a car, it could change to her accidentally electrocuting herself if she just stayed home. No, there would be no escaping it. Even for a life mage like her.

"I guess I'll take a look around and see if there is one fitting enough for what I would want to do." She decided with a faint sigh, like it was the most troubling part of what was coming.

"Oh, yes, ma'am." he huffed through a fresh swig of his coffee, adding a sardonic little nod of agreement for good measure. "Can't have you settlin' on less 'n your high standards, now can we?"

It was humor, a playful moment of verbal sparring, and nothing that the Shade was used to. It bothered him on a primal level, this reversion to behavior more suited to a living man. It grated, the way she affected him, trying to coax free a state of being he'd shed a long goddamn time ago.

If he were a living man...God help him, it might even be welcome. She was a young thing, but pretty as a picture, and old enough to entertain suitors back in his day...

"Anyone ever tell you that you got too much steel in your spine for a girl your age?" he found himself asking. "Or that come with the power? Sassin' gods like you got a place to go off. Mind you, I ain't upset none--least not yet--but you confound the hell outta me."

"Of course not." She arched a brow slightly as she sat back once again, studying him with a new gaze as he seemed to settle into a more relaxed state which allowed him to spar with her a bit. At least verbally. It made him seem so human and that was almost jarring but nice since it helped her to forget things for a moment.

It also struck her that she found him strangely more attractive now. The realization almost made her laugh as she thought about how different he was from Ed. Or anyone that she had ever been attracted to before. He was so tall and imposing, looking like a biker than the death god he was.

"That's because people expect sunshine and rainbows when they think of a life mage." She snorted gently, lifting her cup again to take another small sip before she continued on. "But my parents thought the same thing. They've accused me of being a hellion from time to time but I don't mind. I'm not all sunshine and rainbows because life isn't that way either."

Then she laughed. "Usually people envision fae when they think of my kind. They are definitely sweet and cheerful but they can be assholes too."

That got a deep snicker of agreement from the Shade as he saluted her with his coffee mug. "Amen, little mage--I don't touch no fae souls 'less they invoke me by name, and them that try are the only ones I speed along to their end."

And, while that was part of the lore of the god he had become...it wasn't something he talked about openly, and had him eyeballing her again over the rim of his coffee mug.

"And that's another thing y'all seem to have a knack for: loosening tongues." he rumbled, raising an eyebrow at her. "I came here lookin' for a soul, seems to me there's more to you than you let on at first blush. 'Specially if you got dealings with the fae and still got your freedom."

"That's probably pretty smart of you. I wouldn't put it past a Fae to try bargaining or even attempting to trick Death into bowing to them." Courtney chuckled, shaking her head a little bit while she glanced down at her food. She tore off a small piece for herself before nudging the rest, and the plate, over to him.

She glanced up when he commented that she had a way of loosening tongues and there was a brief flash of something, a look of total and utter coy mischief, that crossed her features before it was gone again. It could have almost been described as wickedly flirtatious too. Just for a second.

"It's a handy skill to have." She commented before popping the last bite she had into her mouth and chewing. Then she shrugged a little bit. "The Fae and Life Mages usually tend to get along. We run similar circles and all that. Plus I sort of...dated one."

"Make no mistake: I ain't Death, nor do I care to be compared to him." The Shade rumbled, narrowing his eyes...which flicked to the plate she pushed in his direction a moment later, sparing her his dark look.

"Does his fair share of trickin' others, though." He continued, reaching for the plate. "And if your lover was a faerie, might wanna look there. S' unusual for any of the fae to let a human lover leave, 'specially a mage with any real power to speak of."

Reaching for a bite of the danish still on the plate, he popped it in his mouth and leveled his gaze at her again.

"So...which royal were you beddin', little mage? Oberon? King of Iron? Niamh and the Lady of the Lake prefer menfolk, but you just might be pretty 'nough to turn their heads..."

"Right, sorry. I wasn't trying to offend you but I was talking in more of a general sense." She waved a hand at him while sitting back again after pushing the plate over to him. She watched to see if he would eat the rest of the danish while tapping her fingers lightly against the side of her cup.

Then she shook her head. "No, it wouldn't be him. At least not directly. Our relationship came to an end because we both agreed that it should. There are some long time issues there that have nothing to do with us being together."

She could have told him what the real problem was but it was Ed's business that he had a woman that he was still in love with. Not that he could do anything about it since she was gone and believed to be dead. It was something that had weighed on Ed, even during their time together. It was been fun, though, mostly because they were friends first and she wanted to believe they still were. Which meant she would have to warn him.

"Hmm?" The corners of her mouth twitched as she bypassed his question to ask her own. "Wait, did you just call me pretty?"

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don't fear the reaper (rp for wearenotbroken)

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