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" Death and His Heart "Written By: PinkKuri The My Human Arc. Fic 1
Warnings- Gods `n goddesses `n other good mythical
crap… slight OOCness and more things to worry about later. Pairings- 1x2, hinted 3x4, hinted 5xOC Rating: R until later. Disclaimer: I don't own GW or its characters ~*~ "Death and His Heart" The fire slowly lapped at my feet, drawing my attention to its heat. I could make out the shape of a hand and the face of a silent, tortured soul, trying to grip my leg and beg through my unruly bangs. I frowned, and kicked it away roughly. I raised my blank eyes back to the vast planes of hell, scanning back and forth repeatedly, bored with my post but imprisoned to do nothing else. There was never anything different in this realm of my life, never anything new. I was lonely, after millions of years of waiting, that emotion had finally sunken in, and it was eating my dead soul mercilessly. I rested my dazed gaze on one of the carved thrones sitting far behind me . . .the empty one. It was dusty, and waiting, waiting for someone to take his or her place next to me. I knew no one ever would, no one ever wanted to. I had made it perfect; to fit my supposed perfect soul mate. Its frame carved to ebony, its slender legs and curved armrests shone with gory details of Hell’s past. The sections of differed torture all the realms of this place possessed were inscribed in blood script unreadable to anyone but me and the damned soul destined to be at my hand. The foreign words plastered to every piece of unholy wood visible from under the beautifully sewn golden oriental cushion, to keep my soul mate safe under my power. Why the oriental, I don’t know. I chose it because it was beautiful, willing to change if my mate asked otherwise. Willing to change anything for them . . . My throne was almost identical in structure alone, completely black with nothing more than my trusted scythe embossed where my back would hide it until I would need to call it forth. I had no glorious cushion; I had no reason to grant myself such comfort. It was now that my sudden visitor revealed his stern face. “I heard you.” He stated plainly. “You should not be so cruel to yourself, my brother.” I needed not to see his face; I knew already that it was only the Decipher. “I hate it when you read my thoughts Trowa.” “I know.” I closed my tired eyes now. The stoic god did worry, but he did not seem to know privacy. “You should rest.” I cursed myself silently for sounding so vile. But no matter what I thought, I drove my brother away, his disbelieving and angered emerald eyes still burning into my back as a flutter of wings proved he was not with me any longer. I sighed, exasperated, and sat on one large, black marble step just outside my throne room, my lonely little glory chamber. Trowa had every right to worry, but I did not like to be worried over, and I hated pity. Wrong as it is to despise care when it is given so freely, I cannot take it from my friend, my brother. I know he is happy, being able to see and taste the sun, to be able to cuddle with his own soul mate, to be able to see and hear everything on this god forsaken planet and solve the problems, making people happy . . .for him to have everything that I do not is a miracle I’m glad he has been given. An eternity with death is something I force away from all my dear brothers and friends alike. . . . . . . . It was giggling that drove me from my rare, peaceful silence, and I looked upward, enraged by happiness in my livid world. I stood immediately, pent up frustration showing on my features and glowing in my eyes. I could feel the damned souls neck in my hands now. It was in the large hall near the dining quarters where I saw the image of a young girl standing silent. She was dressed in a long, white oriental dress, with a slit on the side that wound up touching her delicate hip, the light golden flowers accenting her tanned skin. In her hands she held what looked to be a rusted pilot helmet from earth, and in her complexion shone promise. Her eyes were closed gently, her lips curled in a warm, hopeful smile, and her hair, a magnificent black, cascaded down her sides from two high pigtails, the actual length of the hair leveling with the small of her back. She looked around 17. Although shocked at the spirit, my anger was still set, and I continued to charge towards fragile being. I raised my hand to level with the floor next to my thigh as I neared; preparing to call forth Deathscythe, then the spirit opened her slanted, Asian eyes. And this time, I stopped. “Hello, Shinigami.” She whispered softly, as if frightened to raise her voice. I was standing a foot from her small frame, but close enough for the dress to lick at my legs as an invisible wind danced with it. “Who are you.” I demanded, and the spirit smiled brighter. “A Guardian Angel, dear lord.” I narrowed my eyes. I should have known better from the light blue aura encircling her body what she was to begin with, not to mention the fact she was levitated off the floor by about 3 inches. Before I could say anything to her though, she turned and walked steadily into the dining room, still clutching the human object tightly. “What do you want from me, why do you disturb me
without permission.” “Since when does the God of Fortune smile upon
my disgrace of an existence?” I walked in towards her, making sure my minions had not seen. No bastard of a demon was going to tell Quatre of this one. Unless Trowa had beaten them to it, I did owe him for my rude comment earlier. But what this young woman hinted at was a second chance…Impossible. “How could I possibly help, I’m the God of Death remember. What good could I do but kill and hurt?” The girl remained silent, looking at me as a mother would her sulking son, and I felt trapped in my own confusion. Who in their right mind would be this kind to me? I found I was having a hard enough time trying to figure out whose realm she belonged to. From her large, stern Asian eyes I guessed WuFei, but her smile radiated Quarte’s trademark gentleness. Then their was the actual color of her eyes, the deep, drowning green leaned her more towards my brother, Trowa, but she showed no more proof other than her oriental dress, which got her one step closer to WuFei. Her delicate hands yet calloused fingers and palms screamed a soldier, Trieze’s handy work being the God of Conflict, but her height and sturdy composure leaned towards Zechs and his post as God of Silence, which might have been why she was so quiet when she spoke. Her hair reminded me much of my own, but I was already positively sure she was not mine. I would have seen her before. “You have a kind heart, Shinigami.” She finally
spoke up, cutting through my mind. “You will speak no more, and you will hold your judgment. I will be punished for this I’m aware but, by the hands of my own God.” She calmly ordered, careful of my power. I stepped forward and knelt, becoming level with the name-less angel. She blushed and ducked her head carefully. “Please, Lord Duo, stand to your full height. I am of no importance to see you eye to eye.” I mentally slapped myself hard, how could I hurt her spirit like that? Why was I being so anxious to hear what she had to say that I forgot about her honor? Was it because no one asked me to help except when it came to death, or was it because I truly wanted to be given a second chance? Either way made no sense, I was mixed, and I didn’t understand. I stood back slowly, as not to scare or startle the fragile being before me. Her shyness was an outer emotion Trowa often used. “My mortal has been shattered.” She started, her eyes still pasted to the floor, her honor slowly regenerating. Such a weak exterior for retaining honor when defeated was of WuFei’s stoic traits. “I was not there for him, to be able to protect his childhood.” Subconsciously, she clutched the helmet, and I knew it must have belonged to the human she was describing. “He suffers now. He has no one. Trieze won’t let his mind go, and I can’t stop him from killing anymore.” I listened intently. So far, her human was male, and she most definitely did not belong to Trieze. “I am weak, too naïve to have even been able to shield his fragile mind and heart.” That was it. She definitely belonged under WuFei, only his subordinates behaved so strict. “No your not. You’re strong, and Trieze, my uncle, is a fool. Tell me, what has he done.” She looked up at me again, her dark green eyes glistening with hurt over the fact she had to come to me for a last resort. “Forgive me Lord Shinigami, you are his last hope.
Minx said so…” Minx. Minx was a fate, one of the four. Une was another more widely known Fate, but Minx was better. She was the future. Une was the past. Selena and her twin brother Alekx were the Fates of the present. “What did Minx tell you, kind angel.” A soft
sigh, and the angel smiled warmly. ………………………….
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