Testing
Contrary to popular belief and possible misunderstandings due to his name, Death was very much alive. There were a few times, however, when he believed that might change. He didn't believe himself infallible, far from it. But there were just those few things that made it a close call.
This most recent occurrence didn't come from a blast of fire or a poisoned blade cutting just a little too close, in spite of it all.
No, this time was going to be from a heart attack, because of the sheer lunacy—
"Who's a good boy? You're a good boy, yes you aaare~"
Right in front of him, just a few meters from his doorstep, was a great draconic being at least half the size of his entire domicile… And there it laid on its side, giving the girl— So tiny in comparison— access to rub its belly.
The spines of the fringe lining its head fluttered pleasedly, bone-tips rattling softly against earthen-green scales. A whuffling breath caused a great amount of dirt to rise into the air, and one heavily-muscled leg stretched out languidly, claws idly digging into the ground.
Death wondered if he simply ate something strange today, or perhaps fell asleep in the armory again.
But the smile sent his way when the one lavishing the beast in affection looked over was entirely too real, and frankly he would be utterly mortified if such a thing would appear in his dreams.
"What in all of creation is that?" He demanded the moment he was able to gather his wits about him, and his tone was a bit more emphatic than he would have liked. She frowned at him, and folded her arms not unlike the rest of them did— The dragon of all things rolled back onto its belly the moment the treatment stopped, turning its snout in her direction to see the reason why.
"You know what he is," She sniffed pointedly, patting the rough scales as if she were patting laundry hung out to dry. "We met him about three days ago on the outskirts of Hell, remember?" Soon her fingers reached out to scratch its nose, and fiendish yellow eyes lidded in contentment.
The Pale Rider didn't know whether to be amazed or upset. Neither of which he was inclined to inform her of, of course. "Oh yes, I remember now," He deadpanned. "This was the thing that tried burning the both of us to a crisp, before promptly attempting to tear us to shreds with its teeth."
She glared at him the moment he'd started speaking, and the animal eyed him warily, possibly sensing her displeasure. "He is not a thing," she snapped waspishly, face clouding over abruptly. Then she turned her nose up at him, to his astonishment, and continued doting upon the dragon. "And we've gotten past that point in our relationship, isn't that right sweetie?" She took the beast's head into her hands and smiled. The cursed thing even garbled at her, seeming to be intelligent enough to agree but not so high in the evolution of his species that he could verbally respond.
At least it couldn't talk, Death sighed to himself.
"Get rid of it," He ordered in resignation, holding his head in a hand to fend off the oncoming headache. "You do know how ridiculous keeping such a thing here is, don't you?"
Oh, the aggression was palpable— With her feet planted firmly, chin angled to the side slightly, and shoulders set back, Death knew he shouldn't have let her spend so much time around Fury. "It isn't ridiculous at all, actually." She spoke coolly, then sent him for a loop when the anger abruptly melted away, and was replaced with a sullen pout. "It's your fault, anyway."
What in the… He resisted the urge to throttle her. "My fault in what way?" He drawled in exasperation, hanging his head forward.
Once more spooking him, she stalked forward and poked him in the chest, pout turning into a frown. "Because you didn't finish him off, that's why!" She barked, jabbing him thrice more before narrowing her eyes up at him. "You wounded the poor thing and left him to die out there the slow way!"
He could have laughed, but then that would have been followed by some frustrated, choked growling, so he kept that part to himself. He did hold his clenched hands up to show his ire, however. "You were the one who didn't want me to kill it!"
"Him!"
"That's not—…" He cut himself off with a large inhale, attempting to remain calm and ignore the indignity that he lowered himself for this argument to happen. "That is not of import, girl." The Pale Rider spoke evenly, and praised himself for his composure in the face of such frustration. "I entertained your request, and we were not going to get out of there alive had I not incapacitated it. Furthermore, you cannot keep a dragon as a pet. It might be a useful-seeming, if not fanciful idea, but you must be logical here." He gained confidence, seeing her deflate bit-by-bit. "How would you feed it? Care for it? And where would it roam— This world is inhospitable for all but we merry few, let alone a creature that needs hundreds of pounds of meat as a daily meal."
She scuffed her boot into the dirt, and mumbled weakly, "They eat minerals as an alternative, too… Gems and the like."
It was as if the dragon was cheering her on or somesuch; its head slithered along the ground to her side, scales from its serpentine neck brushing together loudly as the fringed cranium was pointedly placed between them. Was it jealous? Again, the eldest sibling couldn't decipher if it was awe or despair growing within him. Or perhaps both?
But he wouldn't let her flimsy defense hold, and punched a hole right through it. "Minerals which it would not be able to find here." He replied smoothly. "I wouldn't expect you to know this, but the same reason this world is dead is the same reason why crops will not grow in the soil. The metals and such are tainted, so unless you fancy your pet to have a few extra legs in the wrong places, it still can't stay."
A scaly ear twitched as she brushed her fingers along it, voice extremely small as reptilian eyes remained locked on her. "…I think he's right, babycakes." She muttered ruefully, and the creature whined at her, the sound warbling enough, evidently, to send her into an extremely sad state. "Oh, I know, snugglebun. I know. I'm going to miss you too, but I don't want you to start glowing. That would make it hard to hunt, wouldn't it?" She shushed and baby-talked to it, leaving the Nephilim onlooker mystified as the thing's eyes started growing moist. Then hers did, as well.
That was underhanded.
Death took the moment in which he was ignored to strangle the overwhelming sense of self-pity warring with guilt. Was this why War rarely denied her? Then again, she would never go to War with something as ludicrous as a pet dragon… He didn't even want to think about the collateral damage that could be wrought with having such a large, fire-breathing lizard as a companion.
Not going to happen, he decided resolutely.
She sighed then, and then turned her gaze back to him… Any success he had with his previous endeavor was quashed ruthlessly when she said, "…are you sure? There's no possible way?" It was a soft tone, beseeching, and for not the first time in his life he wished the ground would swallow him up for having such a weakness to his kin and kine.
Even the dragon looked to him with an expression one might call asking… If the jagged, sharp fangs in its maw didn't completely and utterly ruin the picture it tried to make.
He must remain strong, he reminded himself sternly. "If there was, I would have told you." He intoned firmly, and once more his guilt began berating him for causing her to wilt under the weight of his words. He thanked whatever genes were passed through his family that Fury was never this much of a troublemaker.
She sighed once more, but this time it was one of finality. Giving the nearest ear one more tippy-toe scratch, she twisted her mouth off to the side and peered into a yellow eye. "You heard him. I'll still drop by to see you every now and then, though. I promise." The fearsome beast garbled in its throat, and she nodded. Then she lectured it with all the patience of a loving mother when sending her child out into the world. "Now, make sure to keep yourself fed, and don't slack, okay? Or the minerals— They make your scales strong. I don't want to see them like they were when we first met." Death did notice that the natural armor was healthier, but that was because he thought he might have to cut through it once more. "And no more sinew between the teeth, got it? You can get sick if it sits there and starts rotting or something. And don't pick fights with anything bigger than you. If I return to find your corpse, I will be very, very unhappy. Understand, huggleboo? No dying."
Just as Death was questioning the necessity of all the demeaning pet-names, the beast sinuously lifted its head high, peering into the sky as if to judge the weather. Then, leaning down, it gave her a surprisingly dry, lazy lick to the side of her face.
With a snap of opening wings, it actually dismissed him with a huff, flaring the thin membranes and launching into the air. A wide circle of chaotic, zapping energy opened somewhere above, and the creature entered it, only to disappear with a cracking sizzle.
…It was capable of opening its own portal? He asked himself, dazed and questioning his decision on driving it away. "That… Was not a normal dragon." He finally found something to say, something to break the silence and hopefully relieve the inanity of how he felt bad.
For once, though, she made it easier on him and giggled, approaching a little more and shaking her head. "Of course he wasn't, silly." She rolled her eyes wryly. "If he was a normal dragon, I wouldn't have been able to even go near him while he was injured." Then, she pressed her lips together in a sheepish smile. "And thanks for not killing him outright. I was afraid the scythes were going to come out the moment you laid eyes on him."
"They almost did." He admitted in bland relief, brushing at his shoulder with a hand as it itched slightly. "If you wanted a pet, you should have just said as much. But something as… Grandiose as that would have been severely impractical." He paused. "As most grand things are." He then added with a cant of his head.
His companion surprised him, though, by looking at him closely, studying him. Her next observation proved to him that she decided to be clever only during the worst of times. "You don't sound too enthusiastic about that." She noted dubiously, and her scrutiny changed into suspicion, and then dawning realization… He braced himself. "Hold on. I think I get it." She said slowly, the grin spreading on her face with each word. "People want pets when they're lonely, and if I'm lonely, you'd think that… You're inadequate? Oh, Death. I didn't know you were prone to questioning your self-worth." She started cackling.
The Pale Rider watched her through hooded eyes, and took an insultingly mild tone in response. "Think what you will. I was just considering that Terror would become possessive, should an animal as impressive as that one turn your attention from him."
She blinked the amusement away. "…Well, damn. I didn't think about that." Then an easy, smug smile appeared. "Not unlike my Horsemen caretakers, though. Wouldn't you say?" She crooned sweetly, eyes twinkling with mischief.
He chuckled, because he supposed she could be clever in fitting times, as well. "With emphasis on the 'caretaker' part." He retorted. "You are in need of a keeper as much as any pet would, so it would be unnecessary for you to own one, yourself."
Her arms crossed over her chest in high dudgeon, but then they fell and she laughed. "Did you just imply that I'm a pet for the Horsemen, now? Did I just get a demotion?" Smiling eyes were creased with the force of her laughter, and Death found himself secretly thankful that she did not begrudge him his decision over the matter.
"You should see yourself when you are with my brother." He remarked candidly. "You become like a pup wagging her tail and hoping for a treat to be thrown her way. Or perhaps a pat on the head and a 'good girl'." He smirked beneath his mask.
Her face went completely red, to his satisfaction, and she began ineffectually hitting him in the stomach. "Shut up." She uttered, cheeks flushed brilliantly and eyes glaring at him in the way that usually worked to the opposite effect. "I think you're just jealous that I stand up to you and don't simper at you."
She gave him an opening, and he'd be loathe not to take it. "You admit it so bravely, it's admirable." He mentioned calmly, watching as her eyes widened and her hand hit her forehead in woe. "I do believe I'm obliged to inform you that, being the eldest of the four of us, I am generally the one to be respected."
"Not to toot your own horn or anything." She grumbled, but he ignored it.
"In spite of that," The Pale Rider continued blithely, "You yet behave around the youngest with reverence, and the eldest with impunity. Needless to say, that is backward." Death thought that she would have countered as she had before, but he was— yet again— surprised to see that she took his words with care and weighed them.
"Well…" She scratched the back of her head, looking somewhere over his shoulder in thought. "You're… Big brother. You know?" She shrugged. "That's the vibe you give off. As if, no matter how much I torment you and annoy any sense of peace away from you, you'll still look out for everyone anyway. My… Impertinence is probably just me reacting to that." A nod was given to her own words, and she went on, "With War, you just… You don't want to disrespect him. It was the same when we first, err, crashed into each other; I didn't want to be mean to the big guy. I don't know why everyone else in the universe feels the need to, but I don't think I could act any other way if I tried." Then she turned her gaze back to him, oddly understanding. "Why? Does that bother you?"
He might have said 'clever' earlier, but he didn't believe he had a word in his vocabulary to express when this happens. "Am I bothered by it? That's what you're asking?" He reiterated in disbelief. Then he made himself feel better as he always did, and set to ruffling her hair into complete disarray. "You ask if I am troubled by my brother being treated well, and someone exhibiting their leniency with me? The things you question often have me bewildered, to say the least."
Her face scrunched up and she made a sound in discontent as she swatted his hand away. "Do you know how much I have to brush my hair on a daily basis?" She demanded, digressing entirely. "Every time you do this, you—…" With a soft exhale, she got back on track and looked up at him with a crooked, wry half-smile. "The theme of this story is that people are dumb and I like to believe I'm not. That is why I mother-bear over War, become little sister with Fury, torment Strife like it's my day job and poke fun at you 'cause sorry, but your pride is an easy target. But this is what I try to do, as well." She started ticking off her fingers. "I am mother-bear for War, but I absolutely will not be overbearing; I can be something small for Fury to look after, but I won't hesitate to bare my teeth for her; I am the only one allowed to make Strife's life the fun, loveable sort of hell; And I may take cracks at your pride, but never will I compromise it." Then she laughed. "Though, just remember you have an ally that flies and breathes fire now. All for a few belly-rubs." Her thumbs went up in a gesture of approval.
The tension seeped out of him, like water sluicing off his skin. It was a thought… "You say that as if…" He murmured slowly, eyes serious in contemplation. "…you took to the beast on purpose?"
Shy, unsuspecting— Her cheek was given a pass with a small knuckle, an attempt to hide her face. "W-Well," She laughed anxiously. "I really did want to help him, and if having a huge pile of scales and muscle to put toward our cause is a side effect…" She shrugged.
He sighed greatly then, and held his face in a hand for a moment. "Would you stop trying to make friends with the whole universe?" He demanded in exasperation, but even he had to admit that his words held no weight at all. "Come time for the actual Endwar, it's going to be difficult for everyone to go to battle if they're already under one battle standard."
His arm was punched lightly, but it seemed to be in appreciation if little else. "Oh, you know me." She had decided that a jest was appropriate for a response. "Can't go a day without going to bake a cake for our demon neighbors." She paused. "Wait a second. Does Vulgrim like cake? Has he ever had cake? I know I heard the Watcher mention something about cookies once, but that may have been a metaphor and I was focusing on not ripping his throat out at the time." She tapped her chin in faux consideration. "I like to think I'm not a blood-thirsty person, but my how the world narrows down…"
Death scoffed. "You like to think a lot of things," He remarked sarcastically. "And I don't think you should offer the demon anything. You already get enough unwanted attention, without vying for it."
"See?" She was abruptly grinning, and scooted to his side to nudge him with an elbow. "Big brother." She paused, and then added slyly, "Big brother with extremely questionable motives. And a large dislike for shirts." The girl blinked. "You know, I've been meaning to ask you about that. Why do you insist on going without torso cover? I know you focus more on agility than taking hits, but bare skin is a huge risk to be taking."
Oh, the Pale Rider liked where this was going. "Why, is there a problem with it?" He asked mildly, as if offended. She took the bait.
"What? No." She said bluntly, and didn't even seem to understand the implications until a good few seconds later. Then a flush appeared, and she hit him again. It hurt, this time. "Ass. Are you fishing for compliments? Want me to say I enjoy the view? I did tell you about how weird that thing with your waist is, right?" Once more, she shrugged. "Then again, it made it pretty easy to ride on your back. So I suppose it has its uses."
He didn't like where it went anymore. "'Uses'?" He asked simply.
Her eyes bulged, and he knew he rectified the situation to his satisfaction when she held her hands up in caution. "Whoa there, rider. That's, uhh. That's a direction that my brain probably made up on its own and I am deeply sorry for it." She verbally stumbled along, and he carefully held back his laughter. "You have a wonderful, lovely figure and I never should have commented negatively on i— Oh I think I hear War calling me."
Then she disappeared into the building behind him, and he finally allowed himself a small chuckle.
He could gloss over the fact that his brother was absent at the moment, and rest assured in the idea that his choice of apparel was his alone. All for good reason, of course.
Author's Note: Annnnd back to crack. X3 This was an idea from dragonsofthe8elements, which I have just realized right at the second of typing this that it's highly coincidental. =w= And woooow did that ending spiral out of control. But eh. :D
