Mistake
"So you're telling me you never need to brush your hair?" I asked, partly disbelieving and partly completely, utterly envious.
Death shrugged, putting a book back upon his shelf. "It doesn't tangle, so I don't exactly see the need to." He replied, as if he himself couldn't quite believe he was talking about it. I didn't blame him, because I'm nosy and generally the Horsemen didn't ponder too much on their personal lives. They just needed a little reminder that they had them… That they weren't just tools for the universe to use and dispose of.
Stupid universe.
I paused with my own brush, looking between it and him with a blink. "Want to try?" I asked him, curious and proffering it.
"No."
I had to admit, while I was pretty disappointed over the blunt refusal, I couldn't say I didn't expect it. It may have been because his brother was still in the room, though. So I turned to him instead, looking hopeful and internally betting that it may or may not give me the result I wanted. "What about you, War? You certainly have enough of it." I eyed the streams of shiny, pale-white hair spilling out from under his hood with the strong urge to pet. Permission first, permission first…
The Nephilim sitting next to me eyed me back inscrutably, before letting out an inaudible breath.
"Do what you want."
Okay, so it may have been inappropriate to whoop loudly and nearly scare the living daylights out of the both of them, but I was excited and silently thankful that War was bad at telling me no sometimes.
I climbed onto the arm of the chair he was occupying, and waited for him to set Chaoseater aside, as he had been polishing the blade. That might have been as fruitful as me brushing his hair, since the asymmetrical blade never even got a nick in it, from all the things I've seen him do with it. Gently, I tugged his hood back, relishing in the fact that I was doing so and not getting stabbed in the process.
The crown of long hair was exposed to me for the first time ever, and while I couldn't stop the grin from splitting my face in half, I had successfully restrained myself from clapping like a complete girl. It was practically an itch on my fingertips, and the colorless strands before me were the only way to relieve it.
Death, with the book he had been searching for in-hand, stared at us and sighed largely. "And here cometh the day whence my feared brother, the Horseman War, was reduced to a grooming pet." He announced in a droll tone.
Sensing the one beside me tensing, I shushed, "Don't listen to him. He's just kicking himself in the ass that he was too chicken to take up the offer."
Ahh, finally— Testing the waters with a few fingers, I found his hair not majorly tangled and ready just for a brush as-is. Also ignoring the annoying little voice in my head that was agreeing with the suddenly-missing Death's sentiment about demoting War to a baby-doll, I began with a light stroke, and then peered around to look into his face. "Just make sure to tell me if I'm too rough or it hurts, okay? Even a little bit. It's not supposed to be like that at all."
He made a sound, but I couldn't tell if it was the tone of 'just get on with the indignity already' or an affirmative.
Quietly, I set to pulling the soft bristles through his hair, and it was right around the fourth or the fifth time that he'd commented. "Press harder. I can't feel it."
Wondering if his hair was thicker than I first thought, I wordlessly obeyed and made my hand a little firmer in brushing. It felt pleasant and cool to the touch, which was strange for him out of them all. He was always burning-bright action, as still as stone and running hot like blood. But, it made me think that… Even with the temper, the carefully-contained violence and the fierce lifestyle forced upon him— There are some parts of him that reflect peace, as well.
It just didn't help that getting to witness any of those facets would most likely land you with the most permanent kind of peace.
I spoke up hesitantly, hoping that I wouldn't be treading on any unwanted ground. "…If you don't need to is one thing, but… Fury wasn't the only girl, was she? Even past that, didn't everyone take care of each other, like this?" I asked, letting him know in tone that I would accept it if he chose not to answer.
But not only was I given an answer, but he deigned the question worthy of an explanation as well.
"You should understand on your own, but a secluded life might leave you unknowing." He breathed lowly, and it was easy to see he was spacing out on the wall in front of him even with the lack of pupils. "We were created, not given birth to. Any bonds we had to each other were through our own choice, be it through some sense of solidarity instilled into us or just knowledge that there were none like us anywhere else. We fought for each other, killed for each other, and cared in what little ways we knew how to— But the answer to that would be no. Had the Nephilim finally found a world to claim as their own, perhaps they could have grown into a people, from a simple mass of bloodthirsty kin. But, as they were at the time of their demise, they weren't capable of this."
I hadn't realized until silence permeated the room that I'd slowed the ministrations, almost stopped altogether as I absorbed his response. I picked up the pace from then on, and didn't say anything on it. I couldn't pass judgement on people I didn't know. All I knew was that these four had gotten sick and tired of all the senseless killing. From what I've seen, however, only Death felt remorse over their actions.
From a soft heart comes uncertainty and hindsight, I suppose.
And while I couldn't speak an opinion on the deceased brethren…
"You were, though. You, Death, Fury and Strife. So that means something."
I couldn't tell what kind of atmosphere this was, but I could tell there was a certain amount of expectation in it. It took me a while, but I managed to stop my compulsive grooming of his hair long enough to look around him, to see his expression…
…and was ready to make a very strange sound at what I saw. His eyes were shut, breathing even, and my movement caused his head to loll to the side a little, bumping into my shoulder—…
Make that 'sounds', because my jaw was flapping in the wind right about the time Death returned with his book. He stopped right where he was once he saw us, and I took a moment to silently profane to myself before mouthing, "Did he fall asleep?"
Orange eyes looked at me, then his little brother, and then back to me. He slowly nodded, padding over on soundless feet to peer into War's face. Seeming to succeed in confirming something to himself, he straightened, looked straight at me, then turned and walked away…
His shoulders were shaking.
He was laughing at me.
Turning my non-verbal obscenities to him instead, I glared at the large door shutting behind him as he left me to my fate of being a pillow. Since there's no way in hell I'd be able to move War on my own like this. And I'd feel bad if I just woke him up like that…
Though, I did briefly ponder pulling a prank on him. I'm not a saint, but I also don't possess any powers of teleportation to make it come about.
And it wasn't like this was Death or Strife. I couldn't just pull a trick on War. He's, well…
The baby of the family.
Trying to imagine him as an infant and failing terribly, I almost made the mistake of letting out a giggle at the thought, chastising myself sternly. No, this isn't the time for that. Not that I really knew what I was supposed to be doing at this point in time, but…
Shifting carefully so I didn't move his claimed pillow for naptime— Did Nephilim have naptime?— I got comfortable and did the one thing that I was always the best at: I waited.
Drowsiness was something War didn't get to feel too often. Mostly, he would only ever be completely exhausted or not tired at all. It wasn't as stressful as the former, and nor was it as painfully clear as the latter. Merely a simple state of mind, where he had no thoughts in particular. And it was pleasant.
It was warm, too— As he continued to remain in this semi-conscious state, however, he came to realize that it wasn't a warmth brought about from a dazed mind, but a visceral one. That, in itself, was enough to force his confusions, to grind his gears until his thoughts were in, unfortunately, proper working order. His eyelids felt like lead, and he huffed softly with the effort of getting his body to follow his mind's orders.
Something tickled his face then, making it twitch.
It scrunched up a little, and his eyelids finally obeyed him, sliding open just a little, then a little more. The vision he was graced with was disconcertingly blurry, but when it cleared up he recognized the tip to a lock of hair in front of him. That would explain it, then.
But, then there was the warmth by his cheek, and the pulse under his ear—
War stopped himself from jumping straight off the chair, and settled for sitting up from his evident resting place, rubbing the side of his face self-consciously.
He fell asleep on her? Since when had he ever been foolish enough to do such a thing? And why hadn't she— He blinked and looked at her, just to see her head canted to the side, an expression of weariness still present even in the odd slumber she'd taken to. And sleeping whilst sitting up like that…
It was partially his fault, he knew. In playing along to her whims, his guard had been let down, and this is where the situation ended up.
This was tame, in all regards— He felt satisfied in knowing it wasn't his brother, to have fallen in with something like this. It could have ended up quite differently… But this, in itself, was still too much.
He readied himself to leave the room, but it turned out that the fates had one more laugh in store, just for him.
Perched on the arm of the chair as she was, now that his head wasn't leaning against her, there was the slight problem that he was now the only thing keeping her from tumbling to the floor.
Under normal circumstances— With 'normal' being that they were anywhere else and without potential company— He would sit and endure the situation. It wasn't bad, in itself.
No, the bad part would be when either of his siblings would come through here, and he knew at least one of them were bound to have a poor reaction. So, with a hint of regret, he reached up and lightly shook her by the shoulder. He flinched slightly as he did so, the size of his hand in comparison to her made that much clearer in that moment…
A mumble came forth as eyes snapped open at him, and he was perturbed that she'd awoken much faster than he had. Why this bothered him, he did not know… "Huh? Oh, War. What is it?" She yawned, and the Horseman bemusedly asked himself if she found nothing to be wrong with this.
"You must get up. This isn't the best place to fall asleep." So out in the open, his instincts added at the end with a hiss.
"My back agrees with you." She groaned a little bit, halfheartedly stretching. "Still, I've had worse." Another yawn came. She never does it just once, he noticed. "What about you? Did you have a good nap?"
War supposed that's what it was: A nap. He also supposed it was good, in spite of the stiffness. "Well enough." He replied. Then his brows furrowed, because picturing this conversation happening in any other instance… It was impossible.
"Good then. So."
This time he had jumped, but only because she'd settled right back in her spot again. Though, this time she was leaned against his arm, head tucked snugly into his pauldron like it was her pillow.
He inhaled deeply. "You heard me. You can't sleep here."
"But I don't want to move…" She muttered petulantly, and the obstinacy was obviously not going to wane any time soon.
So he tried another tactic.
"If you want to stay here and hurt yourself, that is your prerogative." He stated firmly. "But I will not save you for when Death comes to punish you. He's taken great pains to accommodate to you, and won't be happy to find his efforts in vain." That might have been a little too heavy-handed, he admitted to himself, by using her easily-manipulated sense of guilt like that. But it worked, in the end, and that was the most important.
She sighed and pulled herself off the chair, rocking on her feet and using his arm to steady herself. He obliged and lifted it, but it didn't seem to help.
Then, she flopped right over the arm of the chair and over his legs, groaning again.
"There. I moved. Good night."
With her hands folded across her belly like that, he suspected she was going to ignore any further reasoning from him, and instead favored hitting the back of his head against the wall.
"Death is going to kill me if he sees this." He declared bluntly.
She surprised him by laughing. "That has to be the most redundant sentence to have ever been spoken." She commented. Then she sighed, and closed her eyes sleepily. "Just tell him it's my fault. I wouldn't let you up or something. Not like it's untrue, right?" A light breath escaped. "You could just dump me off somewhere if you get bored or something. I won't mind."
War scoffed faintly, and shut his eyes in resignation.
"No, but I would."
"He's still in there?"
Death looked over to Fury, amused beyond any words that could possibly be used to convey it, and simply nodded.
She peered around the doorway, lips pulling up in a catlike smile. "And she doesn't even understand why he's so nervous." She hummed, lightly rapping her nails against the stone.
"She's half asleep." Death reminded her quietly, also looking over her shoulder. "What are you going to do?"
The Black Rider's smile turned into only the slightest of smirks. "He broke the rules. She belongs to all of us. Even if he didn't intend on it, he broke the rule that clearly spoke against monopolization."
"I'm sure all of us had at one point." The Pale Rider stated this dryly, shutting the door and folding his arms. "I didn't think the one to take it poorly would be you, though. Strife perhaps, or even maybe myself. But not you."
She smiled.
"War is the most dangerous of us all, brother. And in more ways than one."
Authors Note: Well, I just went and blew it, didn't I. X3 I had everything so wonderfully vague and ambiguous, but then my hand slipped and there lies fluff of the squishiest kind. Just laying there for everyone to see. Simply shameful, isn't it? I promise, I'll make more humor, so don't stop reading just because of this. DX
/shot
