A/N: Greetings fellow RoTG fans! This here is a short one-fic I wrote to do with an OC I created for the RoTG universe. I know OCs are generally ill-received in fanfic, due to many falling prey to the Mary-Sue syndrome, but I implore you to please at least give it a quick read over. You may enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And who knows, if people like it enough I might write more about him. If you have suggestions for a one-fic involving him, tell me and it might end up written.
Guía de los muertos. Guide of the dead. That is what he was. That was all he had known, all he had been known as, for the millenia that had passed since he had been picked. He was one of the first of the Chosen, one of the first that the Man in the Moon had picked to protect. He was there to ensure that, even in death, the children, and adults, were safe and happy.
He sat in the centre of a street, his long legs crossed beneath him. He did not fear being seen, or being heard. He had never been seen, save by those like him. Even those who celebrated his holiday, few as they were; at least compared to other holidays, did not know his name. Did not know of his existence. And that was for the best. While some saw death as a continuation, as a journey; this did not mean all did. Not at first anyway. Many mortals still feared death, still feared what lay beyond. And so, his job was to calm and bring joy to the souls who had passed and to send them beyond.
He adjusted the large, black top-hat that adorned his head, a single marigold sticking out from the red, satin stripe that ran around the circumference of his hat. He adjusted himself, dusting off his long, also black, jacket with similar red material on his cuffs, and prepared himself to play. Picking up his guitar, an old looking piece topped with a grinning, patterned skull, he began to strum. Slow at first, just a few simple notes that went unnoticed to the few mortals wandering down the street, who were unable to see or hear him.
The music had an ethereal feel to it, something that seemed to enter every possible space and fill the air with beautiful sound. It wasn't entirely slow, while it did have its parts, and was instead upbeat and energetic. It was a joyful tune, never did a sorrowful note enter it, for death was not a sad thing. As his holiday taught, it was a time of joy and celebration, a time to remember those gone and what lay beyond. The guide extended this to the souls that were now slowly beginning to enter the street. Spirits of the young and old that no one, not even the others like him, could see besides him. They came to him, drawn by the peculiar music. Some were happy, others seemed sorrowful or lost. But all came to him. And he still played.
Several approached him, curious. And they had plenty to be curious about. The man's clothes, shirt, gloves and pants, were covered in cartoony caricatures of bones that mimicked their placement on a human skeleton; a gaudy look that made most children, and some adults, smile. To finish off his outfit was his mask. A white wooden calaca adorned with painted black patterns to hide his face. This was his face now. No matter how hard one looked, nothing but darkness could be seen through the eye holes of the mask. Some were afraid of the mask, not willing to draw nearer, others knew what it meant and approached him with smiles and revelry. They began to dance around him, cheers and laughter bringing even the most afraid soul in. They began to understand what he stood for, why he was there. He smiled underneath his mask.
He may never be known to people until their death, but he did not care. Others were afraid of him, even his fellow guardians steered clear of him when possible, but he never lost his way and never hated what he did. What he did was important, and he would continue doing it until the Man in the Moon said otherwise. He was the Guía de los muertos, he didn't need a name. Souls had given him names before, Grim Reaper, Death, Angel, Bone Jangles, and he would use them on occasion, but he would always be unknown for the most part. Until, that is, his music guided them to him and then, finally, into the beyond.
Even now as he watched, the dancing souls began to fade one by one. Children, adults and elderly all danced hand in hand to his music as he played and he grinned, and he laughed and he sent them beyond.
With a final note, his song ended and he was, once again, alone. He didn't mind. He was always moving from place to place, playing his music. There were always souls to ferry and guide.
Standing, his guitar shifted and became a skull capped walking stick. With a final adjustment of his hat, the skeleton-masked man headed off down the street, whistling happily to himself as he did.
So, tell me, what did ya think? Good? Bad? I'm all ears :D. Also, a cookie to anyone who can guess which holiday this fellow is based on. Not that it would be that hard to guess ;). As I said up top, please tell me what you thought of it. Hopefully I wrote something enjoyable and compelling. Until next time! Oh, and if anyone is curious to what Bone Jangles is playing you can find it here: watch?feature=player_embedded&v=iuSYL7zoF-o