Never
All was silent in the hold of Death's demesnes, and, accompanied by his brother, the Nephilim himself stalked to a certain door in his fortress. It was opened so that the slightest crack of light had shown in, and a pair of eyes glowed back at him in response. Ignoring the sharp thrill of the potential kill to be had, he called in simply, "Awaken. Tonight, we ride."
Those eyes lowered in acceptance, and the soft brushing of blankets being pushed aside echoed to him in flutters.
Her voice was cracked and husked, but it was weary and yearning for excitement in equal measure.
"How long has it been, this time?"
Death glanced to his brother, only to see him gazing relentlessly into the dark, searching intently but without aim. Then he looked back to the cavernous room, the one he'd set aside just for this purpose. It didn't reach the depths of the Vault, but it was tucked away safely enough that no one but they would come calling… No one.
"Longer than the last," He evaded ambiguously. Long enough to leave an empty, sore spot among them. But it wasn't guilt he was seeking, nor War. They sought their completion again, and naught else. "Do you need help?"
More shifting was felt in the shadows, lifting of limbs unmoved for centuries, cracking bones and creaking muscles begging for more rest. But rest they were denied, as hands gripped a wooden edge, pulling a body upright and partially overhanging it. It was then, that he was answered. "…I do." She admitted, but the dusk of sleep yet fell too heavily upon once-slumbering words to show her displeasure over it. "If you don't mind?"
Death nodded, and his mouth shaped words he hadn't intended, to his frustration. "I will leave War with you, then. Come to the surface when you are armored and ready; Strife and Fury will be eager to see you again." He clasped his sibling on the shoulder as he turned away from the door, and received a nod in turn.
Then, he turned to the stone stairwell and ascended it.
War felt as if he was making too much noise in the quiet room, boots resounding too loudly against the smooth floor, the chime of his armor too harsh as he moved. And it was in this soundless chamber that his eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeking and finding the wan smile directed his way.
He didn't know why Death would have left him here instead of seeing to her himself, as his right as eldest dictated. But he was grateful, nonetheless, for the few precious moments he was allowed. He wouldn't presume to know his siblings' thoughts on the matter, but it was truly akin to having lost a limb, to him. While he'd had it replaced, the whole that he was would always call out to the other part eternally separated from it. It was powerful, but less so as he came closer, looking at her high above. And then it was relief…
"You've been well?" He asked, unknowing of how to begin. Perched upon the edge of the hanging casket, legs dangling amidst the chains bearing it, her smile grew stronger.
"Yes." She replied succinctly, and held her arms out, almost in childish demand.
War obliged, reaching out and lifting her from the airborne resting place. She was set upon the floor, the pads of her feet touching the stone with a slight jolt before settling down. And it was there, up-close, that he'd seen a strange analogy to the effects of time— The gown she'd laid in had long since begun its descent into decay, the most damage done around the sleeves and hem, and a little around her shoulders. And yet, through the wasting away material untouched skin was seen, unaffected and removed from the forces that caused the garment to rot.
That, too, gave him ease.
The Red Rider snapped back to attention when fingertips alighted upon his arm. Having successfully caught it, they fell away and pointed to a wooden box propped against the wall. "It's going to be a bit, until I'm in working order. Could you help me with my armor?"
He looked to the box and nodded. With a large crack of protest, he wrenched the lid open, and laid bare the items inside. Shining, gleaming metal, chainmail and soft black— He inclined his head, closing his eyes, rendering himself blind. "From where do you wish to start?"
Her tone was amused.
"The beginning, of course."
"Where is she?"
This was impatiently demanded of Death the moment he'd reached the outside, dead earth soft and yielding under his boots. He gave a negligent look to the one whom had spoken, Strife, and debriefed Fury instead, whom was looking at him expectantly. "She will be along shortly. Make sure you are ready, yourself."
The Black Rider's brows dipped into a worried 'v'. "What delays her? And where is little brother?" She beseeched quietly, eyes flicking from him to where he'd just exited from.
Death lifted a hand and gave her a gentle pat on the cheek. "War is aiding in her preparations. You'd be a little stiff if you slept for a thousand years, too." He reassured her, and she gave a tiny smile.
It faltered a little, then. "…You left War to do it? Wouldn't I have been a better choice? Considering…" She trailed off doubtfully.
It was Strife's bark of laughter that broke the brief silence. "It's a matter of trust, sister of mine." He folded his hands in front of his mouth, setting his elbows on his knees as he sat upon the step. "Or perhaps ignorance? War hasn't been as obvious as the rest of us, so the thought of him as a man simply hasn't occurred to her." Then he shrugged. "Or it could simply be that she does not care, and Death is worrying needlessly."
The Pale Rider shot a glare to him. "Know you not when to keep your mouth shut?" He snapped. "It was my 'needless' worrying that rendered her asleep instead of dead. War will not harm her, and this discussion is over."
Fury approached and put a hand to his shoulder, expression one of impish sympathy. "Be calm, Death." She murmured with a ghost of a smile. "We all share your disappointment at the loss of an… Opportunity."
Death asked himself if having his sister raised in a family of men was such a good idea. "Never." He retorted shortly, clearly depicting with his voice the end of the conversation. His two siblings obeyed and remained silent.
But it didn't stop them from having an irritatingly-knowing air about them, especially when their previous topic of discussion emerged from the crypt a few minutes later.
The girl blinked.
"What's going on?"
Authors Note: Oh god, what have I done. XD I've turned the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse into a family of siblings fighting over who gets to play with the cool new toy. -w-' But you gotta feel for them, at least. I don't think that a race built for warmongering would have a very graceful method of courtship. X3
And am I the only one who hears their respective voices in my head, reading out their lines? Phew~ ~fans self~
