Don't Fear The Reaper

The Reaper. Formerly, in life, known as Sherlock Holmes. Under the directive of Death, formerly known as Jim Moriarty. (( Reaper!Sherlock. No art belongs to me. Independant RP. Open to all. Inspired largely by Feyuca's art. ))

[dontfearsherlock]

You lose.

[dontfearsherlock]

[atruegentlemanthief]

You are headed the wrong direction.

Excuse me? Sherlock?

[What. He could see him? Was it a vampire thi- wait a minute. Lupin froze, then stepped back.]

You’re not Sherlock…

[Not his, anyway.]

[dontfearsherlock]

[If that were the way of it, he would have to sheep dog Lupin around into all the wrong direction, in so much as there were direction in this existence. He had the benefit of experience and understanding of limitation in the plane.]

[atruegentlemanthief]

[Okay…so…he was lost. And Lupin didn’t like that he felt lost. Like he’d gotten farther away from where he needed to be. Damn it. He had to get back to Vassago’s. It was safest there, right?

He could at least will himself there. To recharge. Shit. Fuck. This wasn’t fair. He’d been so close, hadn’t he?

Lupin just reflexively curled up. The reaper couldn’t get him here, right?]

[dontfearsherlock]

[He could...linger around the place. Vassago's home was a safe haven only because Vassago was offering a measure of protection and while Death would sneeze at such a thing, Reaper had to play ball and not touch Lupin while so close.]

[atruegentlemanthief]

You are headed the wrong direction.

Excuse me? Sherlock?

[What. He could see him? Was it a vampire thi- wait a minute. Lupin froze, then stepped back.]

You’re not Sherlock…

[Not his, anyway.]

[atruegentlemanthief]

[AAAH SHIT. Shit he was not expecting that. He jerked away and tried to flit himself away from this Sherlock phantom.]

I’m not ready to go! That body is mine and I’m taking it back! I’m not done here and I’m not leaving them with that empty shell so, really, sorry to disappoint you.

[Did this Sherlock really think he could drag Lupin off to the afterlife? It was like Zenigata taking him to prison. No way in hell was that going to last. Good luck catching him, because he was running as fast as any spirit could. Hoping, at least, to be heading in the right direction for his body.]

[dontfearsherlock]

[If that were the way of it, he would have to sheep dog Lupin around into all the wrong direction, in so much as there were direction in this existence. He had the benefit of experience and understanding of limitation in the plane.]

[atruegentlemanthief]

You are headed the wrong direction.

Excuse me? Sherlock?

[What. He could see him? Was it a vampire thi- wait a minute. Lupin froze, then stepped back.]

You’re not Sherlock…

[Not his, anyway.]

[atruegentlemanthief]

[Lupin laughed nervously and took several steps back.]

Actually, uh, I was going the right way and you’re obviously very confused because I’m not supposed to go yet.

So, see ya around!

[Time to moooove.]

[dontfearsherlock]

[Excuse you, now. Reaper was quick to transpose his existence from where he'd been to where Lupin was feeling.]

I do my duty exquisitely, Arsène. Your physical curse was undone and the  a f t e r m a t h  is for them to deal with. Not you. Your time came and has gone.

[atruegentlemanthief]

You are headed the wrong direction.

Excuse me? Sherlock?

[What. He could see him? Was it a vampire thi- wait a minute. Lupin froze, then stepped back.]

You’re not Sherlock…

[Not his, anyway.]

[dontfearsherlock]

Never were sharp with those  e a r s. You are going the  w r o n g  way.

[He was managing to keep his appearance familiar if a little more ghostly in the eyes. Tones and vocal inflections were decidedly more akin to a Moriarty, however. Strange coiling smoke around his feet started to rear up to knee height.]

[atruegentlemanthief]

[He gave a quiet worried noise, unsurei f he should take this advice. Was it a trap? This felt…strange.]

Then which way should I be going?

[dontfearsherlock]

I am here to  l e a d  you if you would not be stubborn. Your troubles that keep you l o c k e d  here are soon to be resolved.

[atruegentlemanthief]

You are headed the wrong direction.

Excuse me? Sherlock?

[What. He could see him? Was it a vampire thi- wait a minute. Lupin froze, then stepped back.]

You’re not Sherlock…

[Not his, anyway.]

[dontfearsherlock]

Never were sharp with those  e a r s. You are going the  w r o n g  way.

[He was managing to keep his appearance familiar if a little more ghostly in the eyes. Tones and vocal inflections were decidedly more akin to a Moriarty, however. Strange coiling smoke around his feet started to rear up to knee height.]

[odeathjim]

"The view is nice. And it’s quiet out here," Jim noted with a small shrug. He let a thumb brush over Sherlock’s temple during the hair petting. The only reasons he could explain why they came here. Away from people but not stuck in the darkness of the Ether.

[dontfearsherlock]

He'd give Jim that. Sherlock nosed down into his scarf like he often did to hide part of his face and feel a little more guarded.  He looked like he might nap...but neither of them could actually sleep anymore. He definitely could not with his eyes unable to shut.

[odeathjim]

Jim had noticed the colors but  he didn’t make a comment about them. He always seemed to be in constant darkness. But that was common for Death. He didn’t really have colors. Sometimes his suits would be but that was it.

He continued the petting and the tendrils removed themselves from Sherlock slowly.  Eventually they were on the hill again.  Sometimes one did not need to move at all to pass through the Ether. 

[dontfearsherlock]

"We are too fond of this hill." Had to have been the third or fourth time they'd met in this hilly field. Not that either of them seemed too bothered to pick that hill so often. He had an easier time focusing and having color right then than he tended to the rest of the time. He tried not to question it.

[dontfearsherlock]

The Reaper didn’t fight it for once. He was too tired. Too worn down. Could barely remember what they fought about. It didn’t sting because he didn’t fight it. Just let it happen. Relaxed into it and let his eyes shut to just a sliver. Taking a rest.

[odeathjim]

Jim let him rest, fingers lifting to idly pet and stroke through the other man’s hair. They were both tired. It happened. And soon things would probably return as they were. 

[dontfearsherlock]

Some of his colors came back. Hard to say why. He remained laying on his side and relaxed under the fingers. Not something that happened often with what was between them. But they really had no one else.

[odeathjim]

Death was quiet again, tendril twitching under the tighter grip. Other tendrils seemed to hover over the reaper a moment before coiling around him and pulling him over. Closer. 

Jim’s face was hidden in a dark shroud. He might as well have been faceless.  But he let Sherlock rest his head on his lap. If he wanted. 

[dontfearsherlock]

The Reaper didn't fight it for once. He was too tired. Too worn down. Could barely remember what they fought about. It didn't sting because he didn't fight it. Just let it happen. Relaxed into it and let his eyes shut to just a sliver. Taking a rest.

[odeathjim]

Jim glanced back over him, silent. Watching.He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. The contact was distracting. “I’ve already stopped thinking about it." Just continue on as always. There was no Gate for them. But Jim never believed he’d enter. No. He was always destined for Oblivion.

[dontfearsherlock]

"I can't." He took in a bit of shaky air. Moving his head a little slowly in an attempt to calm himself down. Gripping the tendril and putting his head down further. He tensed his jaw once or twice and forced himself to keep quiet.

[odeathjim]

The tendril was black as obsidian. Sometimes it didn’t look solid, like a shadow. But it had a form when Jim willed it. And sometimes it gave a shimmer. There were no dripping black matter coming off it for now. It was just a smooth, cold limb. 

Jim didn’t give a response to the words. He didn’t have anything else to say. The other tendrils swerved around his feet, shadowing over his face and body. The whites of his iris glared through at nothing.

[dontfearsherlock]

He kept hold of the tendril when he laid on his side a short distance, but next to Jim. Thumbs still moving over the surface of the tendril. "They wouldn't let me through the Gate. Even if Reapers could. We're not different in any way that matters. They wouldn't let me through the Gate."

[dontfearsherlock]

my life is difficult and hard but not really let me be melodramatic sob

[odeathjim]

Jim went silent again, then, looking back at the darkness. One tendril moving to touch the hand. Eventually lightly coiling around it. “Rather hard to do when my existence creates pain."

[dontfearsherlock]

"Not always." He continued to mutter. Fingers tensing around the coil a moment before relaxing. He never really been able to examine one before so he set down to do that. He was diluted, but even diluted he still was able to get entangled in things he could study. "You are Death. It only hurts when you reject it."

[odeathjim]

Why was at the tip of his tongue but he didn’t voice it. He just looked at Sherlock, almost tired in expression. He didn’t feel like stirring anything up right then. It was all up to Sherlock how this would go.  "What kind of attention?"

[dontfearsherlock]

His hand lowered and he remained as he was. Slouched. Not even prideful anymore. Not in any overbearing fashion as he had been in life. "The kind that doesn't hurt." Was that too much to ask for? A moment of peace?

[odeathjim]

Jim didn’t grace that with an answer, pulling tendrils away. Eventually he glanced back at Sherlock. “What do you want?" There wasn’t any bite to his words. He just wanted to know so he could be left to do…whatever he was doing. 

[dontfearsherlock]

He let out a communicative breath. Hand still out where the tendrils used to be. It smarted to touch them, but it wasn't unbearable. They lacked the intent and anger to really hurt. "Attention." He mumbled.