Statement
The first thought I had of the day was that I actually had a really nice, deep sleep.
The second was a bit of pondering as to what, exactly Death had given me to help me sleep. The sleep had come to me with all the subtlety of getting hit upside the head with a shovel, and I was slightly nervous about being administered medicines he made to match the strength of his brethren. As far as I know, I don't think they're even capable of getting drunk, so it was a little worrisome…
Not that I didn't have complete and utter confidence in Death's pharmaceutical abilities, but his shifty past as an inventor of sorts made me suspicious anyway.
That, and his inherent ability to torment me without even going out of his way to do it.
But sleep was sleep was sleep, and sleep was good— I was just about to doze off again when I noticed a dull pain in my shoulder. Right on the front, in the skin by my collarbone… I peered up at the blurry scene before me, remembering that I'd taken to my slumber in one of his many over-sized pieces of furniture. So, practically swallowed up in the large lounging chair, all I could really do was turn my head and see the side-half of— I knew it— a pale night-hued body.
"Death." I mumbled, groaning under my breath. I tried shifting to look at him properly, but all I could muster was a brief tremble. "What are you…" I narrowed my already-squinty eyes at him, the 'dull' part of the pain becoming less so the more I awoke. "Are you chewing on me?"
Death actually snorted at that. "Good morning." He greeted me, sounding particularly distracted. "And no, I am not chewing on you. War might, however. You should ask him."
Why does he always tease me when I'm half-asleep? I complained to myself. He never says this kind of thing when I'm actually coherent enough to make a witty comeback… "Right. The mask gets in the way, I forgot." I grumbled, huffing. "The fact that you never take the damn thing off…"
"Stop moving." He ordered, almost cutting me off. "And I already have taken it off in front of you, if your memory serves its purpose."
Ouch. Taking a crack at my attention span. That was low. "Oh yes," I attempted to drill holes into his disfigured ribcage with my eyes, drawling. "How could I forget that wonderfully mysterious visage of yours, especially when you were facing in the opposite direction at the time and promptly committed suicide after the fact?" There, take that!
I could hear the wry expression he must have had, in his voice. "Give me a reason to take it off again, and if it's good enough, perhaps I will." He responded ambiguously, pointedly not giving a direct reaction to my words. Ass.
I didn't have enough presence of mind to put the surly swirl of thoughts into the vernacular, so it was silent for a bit, companionable… But I couldn't stop myself. "…ow." I hissed into my sigh, face scrunching up. "What are you doing, though? It sure feels like you're chewing on me."
"I told you I'm not." He reminded, as someone would to their elderly relative that had to hear something three times before committing it to memory. But then he paused, and that instantaneously caused my suspicions to combust into a giant, roiling fireball of accusations in my head. "That would be the needle, technically. And I'm not doing anything, because—" He leaned back, into my periphery. "—I am now done."
There was the clinking of something as if done on a metal tray, then something thick and sticky was dabbed over the offending area, bringing a significant level of soothing along with it.
My brain should have processed the information and printed out a little piece of paper that explained what was going on, but there was an ink jam and—
Ink.
I smell ink.
"Death." My voice jumped an entire octave and a half, and suddenly I was very much not sleepy anymore. "What did you do?"
The note of panic ringing in my voice must have gotten to him, because he turned his attention straight to me, crouched to look into my face. And his eyes were as cryptic as usual… "Nothing so drastic as to worry over." He replied, attempting to calm me down. "But while a thought of mischief in the beginning, it turned out to be very appropriate. Poetic, even."
I tried angling my head to see what was going on with my shoulder, but I am in no way possessing of a neck that could turn enough. But I caught a glimpse of black…
It all came together, and my explosive reaction burnt itself out, with how bright it got. "…You tattooed me?" I asked, unable to even tell what tone of voice I was using. "Without asking?"
The Pale Rider folded his arms, very relaxed, and adjusted so he was sitting on his heels. "…Well, I was expecting a little bit more screaming on your part," He admitted shamelessly. "But I'll take this opportunity to explain." His elbows were then braced on his knees, and I cursed his powerful frame for making that position look so easy. It wasn't, I knew. "Strife had noticed you shivering earlier, and took it upon himself to find something to cover you with." He motioned to the ashen blanket I hadn't been aware of being tucked over me. "It was a comment that Fury made, however, that started it all. She said you looked defenseless when you slept, and that bothered us more than we were willing to admit."
I stared. "So you gave me a fu—"
"Listen." He interrupted carelessly, unheeding of the glare I was sending him. "There isn't anything we can do about the way you naturally look, but there was something else we could do. Strife suggested a gory depiction of someone being disemboweled upon your forehead, but even I thought that was too far. Largely effective, but inelegant."
I got the erroneous mental image of Strife stooped over my slumbering self with a Sharpie in-hand, and fell into a brief fit of reluctant giggles. "By the Creator, you four…" I sighed, and then blinked over to him. "Wait, three? I can't imagine War will like this." I made a grimace and once more made a futile attempt at looking upon my new ink. Was I supposed to be angrier about this? Probably. But the amount of insouciance I had over the matter just made me shrug. And then wince, because ow.
Death made a sound of exertion as he pushed himself to his feet, stretching a little in the meantime. "At first, he was completely against it." He lifted a hand dismissively. My eyes strayed to the strange marking carved into the flesh of his shoulder, then thinking of the one War bore upon his face. But there's meaning for it…?
"At first?" I stared at him dubiously. "I can't imagine a single argument that would have convinced him that maiming me in my sleep was a good idea."
"That doesn't mean there isn't one." He countered blandly. "That just means you can't imagine it. Regardless, once I informed War of my intentions, he deemed it fitting as well."
Both of my eyebrows shot up at that. "Holy cow. What did you do, write 'property of War' or what?" I gripped the arms of the chair as hard as I could, and made an effort to stand. I was surprised, though, when he aided me by giving my back a good push with a hand. Sure, I almost stumbled forward and onto the floor with my face, but he tried.
"Nothing nearly so monopolizing." He assured me, seeming to be just chipper that he got away with this without feeling my wrath. Just wait til I see what it is, just wait… "As I said, it's appropriate. And perhaps even helpful to you, if you adhere to it."
I watched him shrewdly, and then asked carefully, "…what does it say, then?"
Death raised only one finger, tracing the shape of that which his needle had etched into me. "I doubt it's in a language you'll understand." He evaded, but then caused a ripple in the air with that very hand. "But you deserve to see your own mark, regardless." That ripple turned into a mirror-like effect floating in the air, like the surface of a puddle.
I scrutinized the flat black, unadorned symbol set into my reddened, slickened skin. He was right in the fact that I had absolutely no idea as to what it was or what it meant, but… It was aesthetically pleasing at the very least, with the slightly-curved lines and the sharp edges.
I sighed, and gave in. "It means something, though. Doesn't it?" I looked to him unflinchingly, fully expecting a satisfying answer. If I was going to be carrying this throughout the rest of my life, I'd better very well know that it wasn't the Nephilim sign for 'restroom'.
He didn't seem begrudging with the knowledge at all, in spite of my anxiety. Once more he went with that finger, and short, jagged strokes were made against his makeshift reflective device. These letters were Latin of origin, as were the words, and I was suddenly struck with how enormously funny and, yes, appropriate it was.
"Noli me tangere," I laughed, beaming up at him. He seemed impressed at my knowing of this, at least. To extend it, I then revised a bit of verse for him. "Touch me not, to the Horsemen I belong; and wild to hold, though I seem… Defenseless." I quirked a humorous smile at him, and I had a feeling he was doing the same. "Figures you'd be the one to throw Earthen historical references at me. I have to agree though. It's very appropriate." I hummed at the end, cracking up.
This looked to be completely out of the range of reactions the Pale Rider was expecting from me, because I may have just provoked an actual sincere response from him. "War was fond of riding the expanse of Earth, in the times before its Tree of Life had been immolated." He explained, the rough quality to his voice going a little less so in nostalgia. "I was oft in attendance to get him out of one trouble or another, so I had learned quite a bit about the pre-Medieval humans." Wow, he even dropped a chronology-related term. Is he trying to show off? "It's pleasant, though, to know that you don't think poorly of it. I take pride in my work." Again he outlined the fruit of his labor, this time with his eyes.
When did I become such a pushover? I sighed dramatically. "I thought you were the crazy scientist of the family, but you're the artsy one too?" I complained with no sincerity whatsoever. "You aren't leaving many roles for the other three. So far all I have left is that Fury's the nice one, War's the violent one, and Strife's the grumpy one. I think you're cheating."
"I think you forgot 'handsome' in there." He remarked sardonically, and did he really just say that?
Resisting the urge to completely collapse in an uproar of laughter, I half-heartedly schooled my expression into one of curiosity. "Wait, for which one?" Then I grinned, because I live for those kinds of pointed looks. "Oh, you mean you? Well, as of yet all I've seen is this mask in the place of where your face is supposed to be, so I feel I'm not qualified to make that assumption." I finished that sentence on a catty note, cackling. "Then again, the same goes for Strife. At least I can see what color your eyes are, and that they kinda look like you've never slept a day in your life." Ahh, the sweet sound of non-verbal disapproval. "Fury's beyond beautiful, though, and War has that whole rugged thing going for hi— Oh, sorry. Are you jealous?" And no, I didn't even try to hide the grin.
Death put his hands to his waist and made a show of shooting me down. "Not even in your dreams." He pronounced each syllable slowly, stance one of proud dismissal.
I didn't buy it at all. "Now that would be an interesting dream to have…" I pretended to zone out for a moment, wide smile going a little impish before returning to reality. "But no, sadly I have not had any dreams concerning you and jealousy. You, a kitty and a bowl of milk, yes, but no jealousy." Okay, I was lying, but he didn't need to know that. "All that role-deciding aside, though… Thank you. I like it." I bobbed my head, and sensed his uncertainty before he voiced it.
"In spite of the fact that I did it without your say?" He seemed disbelieving, not quite incredulous but not as mild as a doubt. A pair of arms fell to his sides, baffled. "You have to be the most infuriatingly confusing thing to have ever crossed my path." He uttered relentlessly, but I could only chuckle.
"So that's my role, huh? I'm the infuriating one. Perfect."
Author's Note: Wow. I think that counts as legitimate flirting. It does, right? Right. Though, I'm pretty sure Death wouldn't think so. =w=
