Avenge

Taking a tour of Death's home was something I hadn't even conceived of, because I wasn't exactly under the impression that he had a home. It was a silly assumption, however. While they had served the Council as enforcers for the most part, their main job was to raise hell, pun unintended, when the time of the Endwar came.

So, what else were they supposed to do with their time?

I felt extremely foolish at the dry sidelong look I'd been given, once I'd been shown inside the stone… Fortress? I bet my money on 'fortress'.

Here on the old Raviim home-world, there was not a single other soul— Which is exactly what I was looking for. No people, no funny business.

"It is one of the many worlds myself and our brethren laid waste to," Death had explained to me one time. "It's for that reason that I make it my home. You can consider it yours, as well."

That was an abnormally kind sentiment from the sharp-tongued Horseman, so I'd accepted it as graciously as possible.

I just wasn't expecting lil' bro to be visiting at the same time.

"Oh. Hey, War." I blinked and smiled at the armored behemoth— God, let no one ever tell him I called him that— as he sat in a chair in… Was this a foyer? It was a foyer, I think. I was about as sure of that as I was that we were in a fortress. "I didn't know you were coming over too."

At attention, as he always was, the Red Rider leaned forward, looking serious. Oh boy. "I was told you were being brought here for restoration." Featureless, glowing eyes flicked towards his older brother behind me. "I may be willing to act on faith alone, but my brother would not."

Oh. Oh. I turned to Death, narrowing my eyes to peer into his mask. "You— Sneaky, sneaky— Ugh." I rubbed a cheek. "You brought me here so I'd be out of the way, huh? I get what I want, you get what you want. Except…" I shook my head. "What you want isn't what I want."

Death folded his arms, shooting a reproachful glance to his younger brother for spilling the beans. "I thought you would think fondly upon the idea of someone fighting for your sake." His tone was plain and a little offended. "It was going to be a gift."

I choked. "Last time someone gave me a dismembered head as a present, I had to spend a few days locked in a cell." I quickly made to head that off. …Pun unintended. "So no. No revenge. I don't want it."

If anything, the Pale Rider seemed incredulous. "So you don't want me to inflict pain upon those who bear you ill?" He uttered, and I could see his eyelids drop in bafflement. "I can't say I saw this coming."

I sighed and held true to my patience, holding a hand up. "I am saying to you the same I did to Strife, and to Fury." I explained quietly, sending a quick glance to War to see if he was listening. He's good at that I suppose, though. "You let things go sometimes. If the thorns hurt from holding on, then you let the damn vine go. Then you can bleed, and then let it heal over. If any of you acted out now, let alone in my name… So, please. Just don't. Okay?" I spread my palms to them both.

War looked away, but his lack of speech told me he understood— Death, however, sighed and pushed my arms back to my sides. "It is understood." He sighed again, but this seemed too easy…

I glared at him in suspicion. "I can count on War to hold his word. You, I'm a little worried about." I stated bluntly, and I heard a soft bark of laughter from the Red Rider off to the side.

"It sounds like she knows you well, brother." War commented, almost idly. He shifted into more of a lounging position, the quiet scraping and metallic rattling of his armor one of the few sounds denoting safety in these worlds.

Death only made a hum of assent.

I laughed. "I think I prefer the less-violent ways of getting back at someone, anyway— More fun, and repeatable too."

War disagreed. "Less permanent."

Death did the same. "More dangerous."

I smiled. "Isn't that what you two are for?"