Strife and Fury spent the evening in the inn, eating a nice dinner and listened to the music. They spent the rest of the night talking. Fury did most of it as she talked about how she first met Death. Strife talked a little about his life and how he came to meet Death too. Snow began to fall in the early morning, conjuring warm memories Fury had with Death.
The next morning Strife woke up in the woods to the smell of cooked fish and fruits. When he opened his eyes, he saw Death looking down at him with a smirk.
"You looked pale so I got you something to eat, and I also want to thank you for taking care of Fury last night."
"This is for me?" Strife asked in disbelief, sitting up.
"Yes, so tell me what happened. What did she say?" He asked anxious for Strife to talk about Fury. He had a right to be curious and he didn't much care if he was out of his own character, he needed to know.
Strife was grateful Death didn't have a memory of last night. Who knew how he would react?
"Nothing I couldn't handle," he lied boastfully. He stood up to stretch his tired muscles. The hawk screech as it flew towards the camp. Death held his arm out and the hawk flew passed him and rested on Strife's hand. He looked about as surprised as Death. A curious smile curved Death's lips as he place a hand on his hip. It was just an amused look but this hawk was Death's love and she flew to Strife. Strife laughed nervously.
"Nice, hawk. Good one, Fury. Fly to your master." He told the hawk.
"Last night," Death began curiously.
"Yes, Death?" Strife asked as he tried to get the bird to fly to Death.
"Go. Fly to the one you love."
"Tell me about it." Strife laughed nervously again.
"What's to tell? I took Fury to an inn." The smile faded and he eyed Strife cautiously.
"You took Fury to an inn?" He couldn't hide the anger that was rising in his voice. Strife heard it too. He had to explain quickly it wasn't what Death was thinking.
"Just to eat, but we had to go to a stable first."
"What were you doing in a stable?" Death asked confused.
"We had to change clothes." Oh, no. Poor choice of words. He knew what was coming now.
"What?" Death snapped.
"We didn't change together," Strife explained and he thought he was in the clear. He thought wrong.
"You left Fury alone?!"
"No!" He lied.
"So you did change together!" Death argued.
"No. No, it wasn't like that at all." He handed the hawk to him.
"Here, take her. She changed in the stable while I changed outside. No one came in." He saw Death's shoulders relax and he sighed. He was saved. For a minute there, Strife thought he was a dead man.
"I won't lie, Death. Fury is a beautiful woman and I've had my fantasies, but all she talked about was you." Death smiled softly. He looked at the hawk, thinking about Fury and a moment they were together. It brought wonderful memories to him.
"Whenever you are with her, I envy you." He set the hawk on a tree root, uplifted from the ground, and turned his attention to Strife.
"But you can tell me. Tell me everything she said, and I will know if the words are hers." Strife turned his back for a moment thinking of what Fury would say about Death, how she would feel about talking about him. He thought about coming up with a great lie to make Death feel better but what Fury said last night was good. He was going to tell the truth.
"She told me of the day you first met. She knew her life had changed the moment she saw you. She then cursed it." At that, Death frowned. He understood her sadness and it pained him that he couldn't help her. He didn't care about his own suffering, he didn't want her to. He looked at Strife intensely as he continued.
"But she smiled and talked about the day she fell in love with you. She continues to love you each and every day. Nothing will change that and if she could go back in time, she wouldn't change a thing, Death, fearing it will alter you meeting each other. She loves you more than life. There is no other way to explain it." Death was touched that Fury would say that. There were times where she spoke about her feelings for him and him for her. Those memories kept him going each day.
"Did you know that the nephilim mate for life?" He could tell Strife didn't know seeing how he probably had no one to love yet.
"War didn't even leave us that. Not even that, and he is a damned nephilim too." He turned his back on Strife and walked to the hawk.
Although Death was hiding it, Strife could see the pain Death was feeling. Every time he would look at the hawk, he would see Fury. They were so close and yet so far away from each other. Imagine being torn away from the person you love for three long lonely years, without a soul to confide in the curse shared between them. Things Strife would take for granted—Fury's smile, the sound of her voice, her laughter, the way she move or look at times, whether happy or sad, Death would always treasure. He's had to. There had to be a way to help them, Strife thought. There had to be.