Death fades into view, her eyes alight as she realises what she has just done. She saved a life! A little thrill runs through her as she remembers. The pier is bustling, last day of the long weekend. Families out enjoying the sun. A couple wander by, their backs to her but their aimless wandering a clue to all. Turning to walk back up the pier, a bony hand alights on her shoulder and she flinches.
"Lovely day," a voice like crypt doors closing intones. What is it with the small talk? She knows that He doesn't understand it. One of the many things he doesn't understand. The hand is removed and she turns to face DEATH. Seven feet, if he was an inch, blue eyes twinkling in empty sockets like the heart of stars. She knows why he is here. Saving a life is the greatest faux pas for their kind.
"I wondered when I would see you," Death sighs. She moves to a bench towards the end of the pier and Death sits down beside her. She wonders, not for the first time, why he chooses to look so inhuman. 'I mean,' she muses, 'it's not terribly inconspicuous, is it?'
"You know they see me as they want to see me. I might as well please myself." He pauses. "This has got to stop. Every life has an expiration date, you know this. To alter one life can change the course of millions. Why are you doing this?" DEATH asks, not unkindly. He likes Death, she is less intractable than her siblings and her universe has great potential, for a change. Being a Death means knowing every life in detail; that knowledge alone has driven many Deaths to drastic actions, saving lives instead of taking them. Taking lives, however, is a bit of a misnomer and one that young Deaths struggle with. Deaths do not take life; they are merely transport to whatever comes next. Death pauses and then her words come in a rush.
"They're so beautiful. Each and every one of them. Every one with hopes and dreams, desires, a destiny laid out for them. Each and every one matters - to themselves, to their friends, their parents, their lovers, siblings, even complete strangers share a connection by simply being one of a finite number of human beings. They matter to me..." It is a stellar day, the ocean bright and sparkling. She hunches forward, her pain evident in every movement.
"Us, you and I, we know how it ends for all of them and... it hurts..." Death slumps, defeated, her eyes starting to fill.
"We see them die by their thousands each day and we do nothing! We, all powerful beings, have our hands tied because to change one thing is to alter everything," she scoffs at DEATH. His eyes dim for a moment, their actinic glow dulls. He knows her pain; the quandary that she faces. DEATH sighed. This was the problem with corporeal anthropomorphic personifications. Too much like a human... Those glands are a pain, for starters. He had tried corporeality once and it hadn't agreed with him. The shape defines the actions. He pauses at that thought and remembers his granddaughter (or rather the person that may one day will have been his granddaughter) and how she said something remarkably similar. Perhaps a little understanding wouldn't go amiss...
"I too used to believe as you do, that each life was a precious jewel. That each story was unique. The sad truth is that they are. Each person is unique, each story is a jewel. Us anthropomorphic personifications must be detached from our subjects to a certain degree, otherwise what you are feeling now will be nothing compared to the alternative. Professional detachment, that's the key."
"How can you say that?! Every life I see pass through my domain is one that is full of hope for the future, how can we take that away from them? They are told life is precious and we make a mockery of that," Death almost snarls. "You sit there so detached, so unfeeling, so inhuman. How can you possibly know what it feels like to die alone, unloved…it breaks me every time. Is there no justice?"
"Calm yourself, little one. They have no need of you until they cease to be, you burden them, and yourself, with your respect and admiration. Humans live such short lives that to have attachment to any one individual means an existence of constant heartache for you. You cannot suffer as they do, otherwise how can you adequately help them to move on? No use having your guide to the next world coming apart at the seams now is it? A certain distance is required as much to protect you as them. You focus on each individual, when instead your focus should be on the whole." DEATH pauses, looks at her. He knows that to change one life is to alter many, but sometimes it must be done. He himself was guilty of this, back when he too was a young Death.
"That said maybe there is something in what you say. I have long struggled with emotion. No body, you see, therefore no physical processes. I don't miss it let me tell you." Death catches him with a sceptical look. "I am serious! I used to have a body and I don't miss it, but it is limiting in other ways. I, who can travel in time and space from before time to the end of eternity, yet cannot understand basic human behaviours. Inhuman I very much am." At this last, Death winces; looking up she sees one of his eyes momentarily dim, his version of a wink.
Death gazes at the ocean. That last comment touched her; perhaps he was more human than she had at first thought. Perhaps a little understanding wouldn't go amiss… She straightens, her head coming up as she thinks about what has been said. Maybe there was a way…
"You might want to think about becoming a little attached. Perhaps...here." She digs through a pocket and comes out with a slip of paper. "She lives in your universe. She may be able to give you something you remember but cannot remember. A pleasure." She stands and moves off into the crowd, quickly disappearing in the throng of people. DEATH watches her go, pleased with himself. Well that's one catastrophe averted for today.
With a clicking of knees, DEATH stands. And she meant every word, DEATH thought. So innocent... He looked down at the slip of paper.
"Ysabell…" he murmurs to himself, his memory unfolding before him.