I tried to chase the poison away. It kept coming back to me.
Don't you know how sweet yet foul Death smelt?
"I have." He replies, glancing at Death herself. "It's like perfume. Death on some people smells terrible. Death on some other people will smell so sweet."
"How do you reckon Death herself smells like?"
Arngrim gave Lucian a very odd look. The younger
blonde shrugged it off.
"You worked alongside what seem like
a miniature version of Death. Her perfume lingers on each and every
one of her Einherjars. You included." The younger boy noted,
watching as the oldest Valkyrie strode past the hall in a hurry to
attend to another job.
The older man contemplated. The smell of Hrist's perfume was extremely strong yet extremely light. It was like a form of dark, exotic candy that can never be eaten. Arngrim was tempted to eat that candy. He wanted to peel the wrapper off the candy and eat it.
Tell the world that it's his.
"I don't know how Death smells like on me." Arngrim laid back down on the staircase along the great hall of Valhalla, exhausted after a day of training. "But I do know that Death .....carries a promising scent on herself."
"Promising scent?"
"Yes. To mask her facade of failures. Do you not know that Death weeps behind close doors?"
- Owari.