A/N: And now for some boring talking from me that is rather necessary. This is a prologue-type chapter for the rest of the fic. The following chapters will be longer. This fic is already mostly finished, therefore I will be updating weekly. Please enjoy, and review. I went out of my comfort zone a little bit with the POV, and I'd love feedback. Especially since I am rather bad in general with chapter fics.
Beta Readers: RiXCHaN, EndingsAndBeginnings. Thank you, my lovelies. :)
The timeline is AU, primarily involving OCs. There are some shinigami cameos.
Warnings for the entire fic: Mild cursing, mild sexual themes. Violence/gore. Questionable ideology. Mentions of suicide. Death.
Anathema
He is the angel with the scabbed wings
Hard-drug face, want to powder his nose
He will deflower the freshest crop
Dry up all the wombs with his rock and roll sores
Dead
Is what he is, he does what he please
The things that he has you'll never want to see
What you're never gonna be now
Sketch a little keyhole for looking-glass people
You don't want to see him
Marilyn Manson – Angel With The Scabbed Wings
Chapter One: Penance
Guuku 's worn skull rattles in agitation but I just shuffle my cards amongst each other, taking no mind of him. He's always been a rotten gambler. An ugly one too. A maggot crawls out of my hair and settles on my eyeball. I blink it away with my cracked eyelid of exoskeleton and see the God of Death sitting next to Guuku shift. Deridovely. He is calmer, but I notice his unpleasant mouth grimace as he looks at his hand of cards. It's unfortunate that I should have to look at them – they are both vile beings. But I cannot gamble with the abominable Gods while turned away.
Beside me, a chuckle rumbles in Ryuk's throat. He is as refined as the heinous Gods of Death can get, but his perverse evergrin is still grotesque. He seems fairly confident (or at least uninterested) in his hand, and has them resting against his black clad leg while he lounges over his stone seat.
We all exchange glances (I shudder internally as Guuku's disgusting eye sockets sweep over me) and put our cards down on the slab of bone that serves as a table. Guuku howls and sweeps the cards away with a misshapen hand but we have already seen. Ryuk flips a gold trinket at me easily, but the other two pass over the spoils reluctantly. They owe me several years of their lives as well, but I don't much care. Years are a pitiful excuse for an existence. I only take the gold because it is somewhat of a respite from all of the mundane, colorless things in this world.
"Looks like you win again, Anathema," Ryuk laughs roughly. He stands up and rolls his shoulders and I get up as well. Guuku and Deridovely are moping at the table, muttering to themselves. I don't smile, even if they could see it past the chains that obstruct the lower half of my face. It has become second nature for me to beat the sleazy creatures of Death. I have gambled against every God of Death in the realm, and never once lost. It holds no meaning to me.
"Yes, I know," I say. The gold pieces shift in my hand, so I press them into my upper arm. The epidermis softens and becomes more malleable, so the pieces stick like my other winnings. Tattered wings part from my spine and unfurl. The maggots that reside on my body are careful to vacate the site – if they part from my body, they will disintegrate. I look back at the two Gods of Death at the table. They're giving me hateful looks. It is not an improvement from their usual abominable countenances.
I pump my wings and rise into the hoary gray air. I fly over the tapestry of bones and dirt and filth below. It doesn't make me sick, like its inhabitants. It just bores me almost-to-death. I despise this place. I pick the smallest craggy fissure and settle into it, retracting my wings. No rotten world to be seen from where I have put myself.
And simply because I'm bored, I close my eyes and go to sleep.
It does not matter how long I slept – only that a God of Death's rotten voice was pulling me out of my nothingness. I deeply regret that I cannot kill my own kind with my Death Note. Maggots swarm over my scalp and through my dreads irritably; they are something like a temperamental colony of bees, and my body is like a beehive. They grow from uneven sunders in the rock scale that covers me like armor, but they always fade and die before maturing. We share a hospitable lifestyle.
"Anathema," the God of Death presses. I give up feigning sleep and open my eyes.
"What is it?" I snap. I fly out of the fissure and hover above the surface. It's Ryuk. His grin is still present, and I feel a flash of disgust.
"The old man wants to talk to you," he says in an oily voice.
So without another look towards the foul immortal, I turn and fly towards the mountainous rock formation that the King of Death calls home. Ryuk follows, which does not thrill me. He is the God of Death I am most tolerant of, and I'd hate to not think of him as an ally because he felt the need to follow me around and annoy me.
We fly in through an opening in the rock and land on a ledge that opens into a cavernous room. A number of Gods are lazing around the throne of Armonia Justin Beyondormason. I make out Calikarcha, Midora, Guuku, Deridovely, Kinddara Guivelostain, and Zellogi. As we land, the lot of them quiet and look at me.
Above the ledge, chains constrict the mass that is the King of Death. His face is a skull, and four limp arms hang from him. Fluids ooze from the raw substances around the chains. It is apparent that the most powerful God of Death should also be the most repulsive.
"Death God, Anathema." I have never heard him before, but the voice could only come from the King of Death. It wasn't a single voice – it seemed to overlap itself in thousands of whispers and shouts and highs and lows until just the sound of my own name made me ache. The King of Death continued.
"The most trusted of my Gods of Death have informed me that you have been stealing Death Notes," the King of Death intones.
"What?" I say with genuine shock. Stealing Death Notes? Why? I would never willingly touch the property of another God of Death. It would be riddled with sickening characteristics of the Gods themselves. I am only able to collect my gambling winnings because they pass ownership to me when I win.
The King of Death does something odd – the chains rattle and there is a low rumbling from deep inside the cavern. My body gets heavier and maggots skitter around in panic, blinding me. I thump to the ground, landing hard. My vision clears.
"Because of your atrocious crime, you are sentenced to receive a Level Four punishment."
The Levels of Punishment go from 9-1 to Extreme. 9 is the most minor, and anything lower than 4 results in the death of the God. So I won't be dying.
I see the group of Gods staring at me smugly as an odd sensation comes over me. There's something wrong with my skin – the coins that are fused there are dropping and chiming as they hit the stone ledge. I look down and see that my hands have lost the gray tinge that all Gods of Death possess. They look like human hands. I touch them together hesitantly but they have maintained their rough scaly texture.
"The penance for your crimes is now written in the back cover of your Death Note. The rules of the Death Note have also been transcribed into the front cover," the King of Death thunders. I have no idea what the blob of a King is talking about, but I cannot allow any of the other Gods of Death to see my confusion or uncertainty.
"You are hereby banished for one year to the Human World, Death God, Anathema."
Banished?
I understand. The Gods of Death that gathered. They told the King of Death that I was stealing their Death Notes. The pathetic runts lied to him. It is most likely because I've beaten them all at gambling. Something like that shouldn't be important, but I wouldn't put it past the loathsome entities.
I have only ever seen the Human World through the sundering in this realm. It looks far less prosaic than here. I don't know how I can appreciate being forcibly expelled though. And these conditions…a human form? Disgusting.
"Death God, Ryuk," the King of Death addresses him. Ryuk jumps and looks down at me from where he hovers. Of course, I am stupidly anchored to the ground as a human. Ryuk swoops down and seizes the back of my jacket with his gloved hand. I am lifted helplessly into the air but I detach myself from the situation. I'm immune to embarrassment – I could not feel inferior while in the presence of the lesser Gods of Death. I hold on to my Death Note tightly. A chorus of laughter comes from behind me as we fly out of the mountain.
I hear Ryuk snickering from above me but I disregard him. Everything in this world is rotten and foul. I have my hopes up in regards to the Human World. Maybe I will find something worth living for there. One year. Even if I find nothing of consequence, it is only an infinitesimal speck of time in relation to my lifespan.
Ryuk soars towards the gate to the Human World. It's a vortex of white light that seeps in, collapsing on itself at some point in the middle. We drop through, blinded by the flashes of white light until I feel like my consciousness is being picked apart at. We burst through the veil and into the Human World.
A/N: Thanks for making it this far! If you did like it, please leave a review. They make my day. If you didn't like it, please leave a review saying why. I have relatively thick skin, I should be able to take it. I want to get better.
I update weekly! Stick around, folks!