O Death!

We all live, we all die, as all must Independent, fandomless personification of Death. Please read rules & about before interacting!

[blackwingcd-blog]

I am sorry for having been rather absentish, I have been focusing on my main blog! However, you should like this post if you want to plot something c:

[blackwingcd-blog]

destinedrose:

“… Alright.”

          They knew that eventually they would have to accept it. They would have to let go of their burdens and their last ties to life. Would that it were so easy and so simple. Would that Oscar could be as unwavering and unflinching as they had always striven to be. But now, in the face of departing and leaving everything behind, they find that setting down the load they had carried for so long and stepping into the unknown was easier said than done. 

“I… I’m sorry but– I just need a moment. Would that be alright?”

          Oscar felt as if they could crumble to pieces on the spot. When was the last time they’ve felt this vulnerable? Early childhood? Perhaps even earlier. It certainly wasn’t this bad before; not when Louis-Joseph died, not when they and Fersen had parted ways, not even when they and their Queen made their farewells in so many words. Expectations, failures, dangers, and deaths. So many weights and hardships dealt to them over the years and each one had been incredibly hard to shoulder on their own and was now just as hard to put down. Would they have to deal with that on their own as well?

“I don’t want to be a coward.”

           “We have as much time as we need, Oscar.”

     The Mother saw so many crumble - great kings who feared the moment of judgement for all they had done in life, strong warriors who finally gave in to the feelings they have been forced to hide all life long, people who suffered so much that death came as a relief to them - and she has been there for each of them, gently stroking their hair, telling them what they needed to hear to be able to let go and turn towards the next world... or before they were ready to be released back into the universe, to become one with the cosmic energy that wove the fabric of space and time. Sometimes they did not know which it would be. Death was not only a single door, but a corridor of manifold doors, after all.

       Gently, the woman placed her hands on Oscar’s shoulders, the touch so soft they could easily pull away if they wished... or lean in, accept the Mother’s comforting embrace, a quiet offer made freely and kindly. Death does not discriminate.

           “ Your men saw you fighting bravely until you could no longer - your friends saw you leaving not with cries and fear, but quietly, with dignity. Few ever leave this world with a smile! You will remembered, that much I am sure of.”

[jacquedemy]

She’s here all the time.

[blackwingcd-blog]

splendorburned:

    “ oh, shove it. ” words hold a bitterness to them as eyes follow the other’s movements, staying completely still in her place — arms wrapped around herself. while a part of her is ABSOLUTELY scared and confused, she wasn’t about to let it SHOW; she’s never been one to show vulnerability in the face of ‘danger’. she liked to face these things head-on. of course; the thought of LIVING on in their memory is nice. that’s all she wanted ever since she was a child; being remembered, being SOMETHING. but… right now? that’s just a dream, a wish placed in the back of her head. she’s more worried about the present; about what would happen from now on without her being there. her husband had just begun his second term, her foundation was still out there without her to run it, people were longing to see her ━ and yet, there her body laid on the bed, motionless, nothing except bones; the strenght to do ANYTHING long gone. and soon, so would she. suffice to say, she’s not ready. “ i’m USELESS as a memory. ”

     “And what would you have me do, Madam?”  This one question that defeated them all, the one that finally showed their victims that theirs was a lost cause. Though well-mannered Death may be, the Master was an inevitable force, whatever meant to happen set in stone the moment they manifested to do their grim work. Something most did not understand: the executioner could not override the sentence, hardly could delay it when the convict stood on the scaffold already, and yet, some still felt as though the executioner must be the one who held the power to change their fate just in time to give them another couple of days, weeks, months, maybe years, until they met again. 

      “ I am Death, and my touch cannot mend a broken body. The time you have been given in this world, you have used well, but not all books have been written to stretch over a thousand pages. As unjust as it may seem to you - neither I nor you has the power to change that.”

[philosophybits]

Outside of that single fatality of death, everything, joy or happiness, is liberty.

Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus (via philosophybits)

[blackwingcd-blog]

destinedrose:

          Oscar had gone through life constantly trying to be prepared for anything and everything thrown their way. But there was nothing in the entire universe that could prepare them for the sight of their own lifeless body, bruised, shot through with bullets, and covered in their own blood. That body that had sustained them through life; hands elegant but calloused from the use of a sword or the strings of their violin, golden hair that had been lovingly tended by themself and Nanny, lips that let loose laughs and issued commands. A body that belonged to a life that they had so desperately tried to live for themself as much as for others. And yet they noticed that it also looked more relaxed and peaceful in death than it ever had in life.

          They lifted a hand to grasp at the one on their shoulder like it was an anchor in a storm. Habit wanted to force them to be strong as steel, to hold it together in the face of sorrow as they always have done, but they quickly realizde that they suddenly lacked the ability to do so. They turned away from the sight and looked at the Mother with tired and somewhat lost expression. They had to ask, though the were almost certain of the answer they’d receive.

          “… Who are you? Did you come for André when he… left yesterday?”

     She reached out for them, one hand coming to rest on their back to give them additional support, waiting for Oscar to turn their head on their own - when they were ready to look away, they shall do so. It was their broken body, and their choice to decide when they were prepared to face the sight... or when they felt they have seen enough.

      “Yes.” Whether this was true or not, did it matter? Death was not bound to honesty, but said that which the parting soul needed to hear. Maybe another fragment, as much the Mother as they were now, had taken Oscar’s friend. They have taken so many these past days, and they knew for certain that the years to come would be just as bloody.

         “I am Death.” The Mother was nothing like the grim reaper many people thought of, cold, harsh, merciless, and maybe they were, in their own way. If Oscar had questions, they were free to ask them - most people did.  “I am here to help you find peace before departing.” 

[blackwingcd-blog]

The metaphysics of the moment of death

As you might have seen, the world ‘stops’ while Death is doing their work. While the soul leaves the body, while Death takes their next victim away, the entire world stands still. Of course, within a single thread, we might not think much of it, but what about battles? What about any kind of incident where many people die at once?

It takes one moment for a person to die, from the moment they are there, to the moment they are gone. Now, I consider this mathematically - between any two real numbers, you will find an infinite amount of real numbers. Between any two moments, infinitely more moments will pass. Death operates on a time scale even finer than the Planck Time (the smallest time unit humans, mostly physicists, currently can work with), and Death can split into infinitely many fragments that all can operate at once. 

Fun fact: there are more Planck Times in a second than there are people in this world. Therefore, even Death working on this quantum level would still have plenty of time to do their job if the entire world’s population died within one second, apparently. The more you know.

[knifing]

[blackwingcd-blog]

splendorburned:

     "No.“ Response through gritted teeth comes almost immediately after the other is done talking, almost interrupting them. Knew for a while she was going to die? Yes, she did. She was nothing but bones by the last days, a skeleton, and she couldn’t even hold herself up without help. Though a small part of her hoped she would get better soon; that God would hear the prayers of the descamisados for her health. But obviously, that wasn’t the case. "The poor — I’m all they have. You can’t… you can’t take me away from them. You won’t.” Her tone is filled with FRUSTATION, though her eyes are WATERY with tears; tears she wouldn’t allow to drop. She was the one they came to for help, for comfort — the bridge between the President and his people. She didn’t want them to lose that. After all - when had Evita ever let them down?

     Death sat on the edge of the bed, though the matress did not give in to the weight of the man. A ghost, a specter visible to no one but her, they walked this worlds without leaving as little as a footprint. A woman with a mission, a woman who would be missed dearly, and still, she was his to take now. 

     “You die, as all must, sooner or later, when their rightful time has come. Whether you lived a long, fulfilling life, or a bright and short existence with so much more left to do. When the last grain of sand has fallen, there is nothing I, or anyone, can do, just as the executioner cannot change the judge’s verdict.”

         Let her cry, if she wanted, the tears shed by her soul would not be seen by those who saw but the body. The Master’s gaze was calm and steady as he met hers.

         “In their hearts is where you will live on, Dona Evita.” 

[blackwingcd-blog]

destinedrose:

          Wide sapphire eyes drifted upwards as they sat upright to glance at the hand extended to them and then to the person it belonged to. Everything was quiet; too quiet compared to the frenzied sounds of battle only moments before. Dear God, what happened? Oscar glanced about themself in confusion before turning their gaze back up to the motherly figure before them. Slowly, as if caught in a dream, they reach out with their own hand to take the one offered to them. They felt so tired, even as they pulled themself into a standing position, shoulders curved forward as if under a weight and another hand pressed to their chest. 

         “That’s right… We won. The Bastille put up the white flag of surrender. Ah, all those people, those brave citizens, will be safe from the cannons now. Bernard and Rosalie must be– But I’m– I was shot. I’m…” It is then that the horrible realization sets in; they are dead. In the end, it wasn’t the sickness in their lungs that killed them, but the bullet holes made by enemy fire. It was over. Everything was all over. And yet…

          “Oh God. Rosalie! And Alain! My men… Have I left them all behind to face everything else on their own?”

      “’tis a dark day, but the fighting will be over, eventually.” 

People died each day, due to the most different circumstances and the world moved on, unaware of each time it stopped to let one more soul pass on from this existence. The Mother’s gaze remained on the body before them for a few moments. A body that fought well, a body that would have failed either way, slowly consumed by disease. Gently, she placed a hand on Oscar’s upper arm, as though they meant to stabilize them, for not everyone could bear well to see their own body. See yourself a last time, and then leave it behind.

     “You have fought valiantly, and walked as far as your steps could take you. Do not blame yourself -you cannot give more than everything.” 

Still, they appeared to hold a certain sympathy. Sometimes, one pitied the living more than the dead, the mourners who would have to learn to live with the loss. However, Death was not meant to comfort the living, but to console the dying over their fate. Many died too young, too early, with so much business left unfinished.

         “The pain will fade very soon... and then it will be just a memory...” 

[got-screencaps]

[blackwingcd-blog]

@destinedrose man I AM NOT OKAY

           “Oscar. Have you received good news?”

     The world was silent.  This young woman did not die alone at least, surrounded by those who loved them. The Mother approached and extended one hand towards them with a smile, as warm and genuine as a smile could possibly be. This person had fought bravely through a life that was full of different struggles, and fought valiantly. Their time to rest had come, time to leave behind the fighting, the struggling, the lies, the violence, the suffering, everything. Time to stand up and leave this bruised and battered body behind, it had served well and loyally until their last breath. The soul would make the last stretch on its own now.

    “Stand up, Oscar, I am here to bring you peace.” Such was the nature of the mother: she who would bring comfort, she who would console those who were tired of fighting, those whose souls were bleeding raw of a life that was too hard on them. Her touch was gentle, nurturing, meant to ease the pain of those who would pass on into eternity soon.

                     “Do not be afraid of me.” 

[blackwingcd-blog]

splendorburned:

   After her last speech where she had to be held up by her husband all the way through before collapsing against his chest in exhaustation at the end, the First Lady was confined permanently to bed. It was absolute hell — she could slowly feel herself get weaker with every shooting pain that went through her body. At this point, she already knew she was going to die; though she wasn’t ready for it, at all. She was too young, there was so much left to do; she wasn’t about to abandon her country, her people, when they needed her the most. But, as it was apparent, she had no choice in the matter.

Until one day, her heart finally stopped. Or, as it would be informed later on, the spiritual leader of the nation entered immortality at 20:25 hours.

She was met with a face she’d never seen before, though she had a feeling this was not an ordinary person; no, it had to go beyond that — beyond life itself. And, in a way, Eva Peron already knew who she was speaking to; though she wasn’t ready to admit it. She stares at the offered hand for a moment, debating on whether to take it or not - which she doesn’t in the end, merely looks up at the other, eyes ablaze; the only proof of strenght left on her body. She’s scared, angry, conflicted; all at the same time. “Enlighten me.” She replies with a snarl.

      “You know my name, and I think you knew for a while already that I would come for you. I come for everyone, sooner or later.” 

         He had taken kings and queens, emperors, generals, but common folk as well, for Death does not discriminate. Those who struggled, those who burned too bright to leave this world peacefully, he would have to vanquish them all. Still, though they certainly played the direst, grimmest part, they did not lack respect or patience for those they would take. This second, as all were frozen, would drag out into eternity. 

        “We have time, you and I, Eva. Time is all we have now.” When the body refused to serve, when the soul could no longer be carried, what was left of gold and glory? What was left of riches and wealth when you were nothing but your memories? They knew that this woman had much to look back to, and yet, even more unfinished business. Such souls were almost impossible to lay to rest peacefully, yet at least they might keep their dignity.

                    “ My name is Death, and I am here for you.”

[blackwingcd-blog]

This blog comes now with a three hour long seamless cello piece to help setting the depressing mood of this blog I hate myself already I am killing so many characters I love  why did I ever think this was a good idea does this track say good sleep or yoga to you i mean this is good music but????

[blackwingcd-blog]

 “You are a brave fighter, and I am the last fight you will lose,” the Master said. “Your life is not over yet, I will take you on an adventure,” the Sister said.   ”Your time has come to pass through this door and see what lies beyond”, the Guide said. “You are tired. Rest in my arms, you don’t need to struggle anymore,” the Mother said. “You will go on a journey no other than any you had, with no return,” the Ferryman said.

                        “You know who I am,” Death said. 

                         Independent multi-facet personification of Death

[blackwingcd-blog]

also, a little note. Death does not care which pronouns are used. All incarnations can take any form, regardless of gender, since they portray archetypes more than anything, and they do not care about which pronouns you and your character will use for them!

[blackwingcd-blog]

@valorandheart I hate myself for doing this to Jamie

         Poor child, that’s what they always thought.How many small hands had they taken to lead them away from this bitter, cold world into a place that would offer them more brightness? The Sister walked softly, bare feet on the cold wooden floor, towards the bed. He was hardly a child anymore, though they would not call him a man either, yet. 

       “Hi.” This little heart, still good, she knew, was stuck between it’s last two beats, this endless second during which the entire world seemed to stand still as they did their grim duty. A dainty hand reached out, fingertips brushing over a hot forehead. This time of the year always made the Sister busier than usual, when the cold hit those who were weakest: the young. 

                      “You know who I am, but please don’t be afraid of me.”