general zargon- ^^" hopefully I did better in this chapter with adding detail; I've never tried to write a fighting scene before, hehe...anyway, still glad you like it!
DetectiveLion- Thank you kindly!
Imaginefun- :3 they are, aren't they? XD
8888Dearie8888- You want it? You got it! ^^
Enjoy~! I do not own Soul Eater, only Ophelia!
"Eek! He's gonna eat me!"
The children ran away, crying. Death stood there, hurt and puzzled. The school he worked so hard to build was finally created after nearly five years of hard work. He only needed to find students. The only problem was the children ran from him the moment they saw him. It was actually starting to hurt his feelings.
Ophelia stood nearby, hand covering her mouth as she smiled with amusement. The children ran to her, hiding behind her. A little girl clutched her skirt, wiping her nose on it. Death stood sheepishly nearby. He touched his mask and visibly grimaced. He was begrudgingly starting to accept the fact he needed to change.
"I told you so!" Ophelia called, laughing slightly when he glowered at her. He didn't dare go near her, though; he feared he would frighten the children more.
She knelt down so she was eye level with the children and murmured, "Now, now, there isn't anything to be afraid of!"
"B-but, he's scary and mean!" A boy whined, pointing a nervous finger at Death.
She looked back at him before turning her attention to the boy. "Yeah, I guess he looks kind of scary and big to you little ones, but he isn't mean, I promise you! He's really nice and he only wants the best for you children! He wants you to join his school so he can teach you to fight the bad guys. Doesn't that sound like fun?"
The children stopped crying, wiping away their tears and runny noses. They smiled a little and nodded.
Ophelia beamed and stood up, ruffling their hair. "Don't worry, he'll prove to you he is really nice! Go off and play now!"
They scampered off, their previous fears forgotten, and she walked over to Death, hands on her hips. "Believe me now? You're never going to get students looking like that. I mean, look at your hands; you still have blood on them! When is the last time you've washed your hands?!"
Death sighed and grumbled, "Okay, I'll admit you may be correct. How exactly am I supposed to change, though?"
"Your voice, for one thing." He furrowed his brow.
"My...voice? What's wrong with it?" He asked, slightly offended.
"Nothing if you want to instill consternation into the hearts of men. That isn't you anymore; you're trying to be a headmaster. Your voice is too intimidating to a child. Try making it sound happier- you sound so sullen- maybe change the pitch, too." She suggested.
He considered her suggestion. It was realistic enough, though he had never tried it before. Then again, if he can change his own shape, then why not his voice? He shortened his vocal chords and queried hesitantly, "Like this?"
The voice coming from his throat was cheerier, childlike even, but still masculine enough for him. He felt a little ridiculous, but Ophelia smiled approvingly. "It's a good start. Next, your attire. Your robe is sharp looking and your mask is foreboding. It gives children nightmares. You need a blithe expression...I'll start working on something right away!"
"No need." He cut her off, reaching for his mask.
She watched in shock as he removed his mask, revealing more blackness. She pouted and he chuckled, amused.
"Did you honestly think I would show my face out in the open?" He asked.
"I was hoping you would...Not fair!" She stamped her foot and he chuckled again before focusing on his mask.
He softened the edges and lengthened it, more specifically the maxilla. He used his thumb to make two round eye sockets and also rounded the nasal cavity. Ophelia watched him craft his new mask curiously, standing on the tips of her toes. He smoothed the cracks from numerous battles and placed his new goofy looking mask on.
"As for the rest of my appearance...I'd be more comfortable changing that at my home. No one needs to see me running around naked while working on it." He said, missing the flush on Ophelia's cheeks at the mental image he had unintentionally given her.
"R-right." She cursed the falter in her voice, but once again, he didn't pick up on it.
"I will find you so you can approve my new look."
She nodded. "I'll most likely be in the garden, so come meet me there."
Death gave her a little wave before the two went off in different directions. The townspeople, as thanks and hopeful appeasement, had built him a manor near the outskirts of the town. It was aptly named "Gallows Manor." He liked it well enough, but found the large halls empty. It was missing something, but he couldn't place what. He filled his new home with books and flowers, even some paintings, but the hollow sensation only seemed to get bigger.
He entered his bed chambers and removed his mask before taking off his robe. He stood there, feeling vulnerable, and hastily set to work on his new attire. He demolished his signature and fierce looking hands, squaring them and making them large. They were still as hard as their previous shape, being made of his bones, but their nonthreatening appearance made up for it. He rubbed his chin in thought as he regarded the remainder of his robe.
He wasn't going to get rid of the tattered robe. It had been his father's and his father's father before him. He was almost too unwilling to change anything about it at all, but knew he would have to. He chose to keep its edges jagged looking (after all, he still needed to appear a tiny bit intimidating), but made it narrow as it neared his feet. He adjusted his legs accordingly and pulled the robe on before regarding himself in the full length mirror.
Death tilted his head to the left, then the right. He didn't recognize himself. His new appearance made his former self look like a joke and he almost thought to change everything back. A seed of doubt planted itself in his worried mind. What if the children still didn't like him?
"Now, no more of that negativity!" He chirped to himself, using his new voice.
He found his new look appropriate and nodded once. "I hope Ophelia and the children like it! Time to get out of this scary era!"
He actually found himself feeling better using such a lighthearted tone and bounced out of his manor. He greeted everyone who appeared in his path buoyantly. They returned his hello's happily enough, having grown accustomed to his presence. He was pleased they no longer feared him. Death went to the garden, opening the iron gate. He didn't need to look down the numerous rows of flowers. He knew where to find her.
Whenever he went to the garden, she was always in the same row. Between the marigolds and the mauve carnations. Pain and dreams of fantasy respectively, if he remembered correctly. She was lovingly removing weeds from a patch of carnations, immersed in her work. She paused to swipe away the sweat off her brow and looked up at him. Her cyan eyes conveyed her pleased surprise as she took him in.
"It certainly is an improvement. Yes, I think you'll get your students now." She smiled.
Death squinted his eyes with pleasure. "I'll try again tomorrow, so hopefully things will go as planned!"
Ophelia laughed. "I'm sure they will. Your voice is ridiculous, though! You really need to work on it."
He grumbled and lightly hit her over the head with his hand. "First you say my voice is too scary and now it's too ridiculous? Can't you make up your mind?"
She rubbed her head, though his blow hadn't hurt much. "It isn't my fault you can't be consistent."
He knew she was teasing him and he snorted good naturedly. For the past five years, she had smoothed out his own rough edges by showing him compassion. He was wary at first, certain he wouldn't be able to become gentle enough to not immediately make humans fear him. However, when she introduced him to everyone, he found himself wanting to change. He even realized he was developing a sense of humor void of macabre.
"You know, my twenty-sixth is in a couple of days." She hinted, turning back to the carnations.
He hummed thoughtfully. "What would you like?"
She grabbed the watering can beside her and gently spilled the water over the carnations before giving the marigolds the same treatment. "I can't tell you that! It wouldn't be a surprise then! I'm only telling you so you don't forget."
Death smiled slightly. "Of course. I'll figure it out on my own. I must be going. Shall I escort you home?"
Ophelia nodded and stood up, brushing her hands off on her skirt. She left the watering can where it was. "Yes, please. I'm afraid I lost track of time again."
She gestured to the darkening sky. He held his arm out and she looped her arm with his, the two meandering out of the garden. The walk was silent, but in a companionable way as the two enjoyed the other's presence. Ophelia looked up at him out of the corner of her eye. He was tall; so much taller than she was. She dared to imagine he was nearly seven feet, which was a height unheard of. When she thought about it, his proportions were humanly impossible. She bit her lip and murmured, "Actually, I thought of something..."
He looked down at her. "What?"
"I want to see what you really look like: no mask and no robe."