O, DEATH.

it's not death — it's a homecoming.

[embalmin]

@greatgospell: it's a little strange, to see him like this -- head bowed, eyes closed. not strange in a bad way, but more surprising. floorboards creak underfoot, and she raises her hands in apology. "sorry, didn't mean to disturb you." the red church is bigger than the one she's used to back home, but it embodies the spirit of the place she loves nonetheless. "can i join you? it comforts me too."

it's a beautiful graveyard, immaculate &. perfect down to the last detail; aesop can only imagine the care that was put into laying these souls to rest. however, this is not what brought him here. rather, it is the church standing tall &. proud amidst the gloom that always seems to surround this place. while his faith has lapsed, aesop still prays. he prays for the souls he ushers onward and he prays for forgiveness from his mother ( oh, may she rest in peace ) and he prays for his prayers to be answered. it's selfish, perhaps, to ask for so much &. offer nothing to the lord in return. but, he is devout in other ways, and the most devout get rewarded no matter what, don't they?

his hands clasp together, and his head dips. eyes flutter shut, and he inhales deep through his nose. heavenly father, hear my prayer. i find myself lost &. needing guidance more than ever. am i on the right path? is it a righteous path? and, that is as far in as he gets before the creaking of floorboards makes him snap back to full attention. his eyes narrow ever - so - slightly, before his expression relaxes.

❝ it would be rude of me to deny you, wouldn't it? ❞ his hands unclasp, and he gestures to the empty space on the pew next to him. it isn't comfort that praying brings him, but she is not close enough to safety for him to tell her such a thing. he forces a smile to reach his eyes, knowing that his expression is otherwise blank beneath the mask. ❝ feel free. ❞

[tanztten]

@embalmin ㅤㅤ━━ ㅤㅤhe's silent, most of the time. since waking up in death's embrace without being offered his kiss, aesop has been... cross, for lack of better wording. he scarcely speaks when spoken to, and only offers one or two word responses on his best days. he's angry. he should have died, and yet death itself denied him that! he's hunched over a desk, frantically writing in a new journal to sort his thoughts. why wasn't i deserving of his kiss? is scrawled atop the page. why wasn't i given the relief i've offered so many? he writes and writes until his hand aches, and only then does he sit back in his chair. it feels good, writing down the thoughts he can never speak out loud. he knows that he wouldn't receive any answers, anyway.

after a long moment, he finally turns to face his lover. his brow sets in a frown, before he forces his expression into one of neutrality. "you should have let me die," he says, for what may be the thousandth time. "then, you could add my face to that collection of yours. is that not what you do with the ones you claim to love?"

feigning ignorance to the young man's anger is not a possibility. der tod knows all too well why the idea of being forced to live even a day longer would seem torturous to someone who has always found himself cloaked in death's winged embrace.ㅤit's because i love you,ㅤhe tells him.ㅤi could not bear to see you burn at such a young age,ㅤhe tries to explain. it feels like it never breaches the surface of the bitterness that aesop has taken to showing him these days. it leaves him cold, leaves him with only memory to call back to for warmth. he tries to approach not as death, but simply as an old friend. locks of shimmering, reflective hues trimmed down & dyed with a deceptive brown-gold, masking the cold metallic gleam of silver. it's half meant for aesop, & half for himself.

der tod stares into the surface of the metal tray―ㅤof which he has used to bring the embalmer food, not quite able to grasp whether or not his condition has improved,ㅤaesop will hardly let him ask―ㅤ& what he sees looking back at him is a familiar face of something once lost. it does not ease the loneliness, but it serves to distract him with some other, new ache.

"that is something i do, yes."ㅤout of character; a timid voice.ㅤ"it is the only way i can memorialize those that i have no way to bring back."ㅤthat i cannot save, he wants to say. he cannot shove brain matter back into a bullet hole, he cannot patch a stab wound that has reached an organ, he cannot rip a soul out of his ribcage & shove it back into a body.ㅤ"it is not the end goal, love,"ㅤ& his gaze seeks recognition in that last word,ㅤi still love you; i have always loved you.ㅤ"it is the way i mourn, a sign of sentimentality, that is all."

[embalmin]

❝ then you should have just mourned me. ❞ aesop does not mean to be so bitter and disagreeable, truly. but there is a bad taste under his tongue, and it flavors each word that comes from his mouth. it has for some time, now; at least since der tod pulled him from the fire, and he realized that his life's work amounted to nothing. death's kiss was the end goal, the only thing he had worked for his entire life, and it was almost in his grasp! almost, until death itself gave him that wretched life back! he turns back to the desk, to the parchment filled with his numerous thoughts that he would love to share with der tod. would it make him feel guilty? would it make him realize he has made a mistake by letting aesop carl live? doubtful, but he would love nothing more than to smack that tray aside and replace it with his innermost thoughts. he doesn't. he simply picks up his pen again despite the cramping in his hand, and continues writing.

i miss victor. it is an ache that hasn't quite healed. i miss my silent friend. he is the only one who ever came close to replicating what der tod has made me feel. he'd felt guilt at that, once; but then his anger had masked it, and he had no time to feel anything else. i miss his ugly mutt. i would even take the company of ganji and miss lester if it meant i didn't have to be in the company of the one that claims to love me. ❝ i was meant to die in that fire, i'm certain of that. and you know, i am certain of so few things. but you took that from me. ❞ his voice feels strangely thick with tears, and it is not long before mr. carl's voice rings through his mind to scold him for such a thing. aesop ducks his head, and focuses his blurry gaze on the parchment instead.

❝ you could have had your sentiment, and i could have had my relief. you would have had my soul, and i would never leave you. that was what you wanted, wasn't it? for me to never leave you, to continue nipping at your heels as your loyal dog? you denied us both something we wanted, then. ❞

[embalmin]

tugs his finger on the top rim of his mask & tugs it down just enough to expose his lips, & presses his own (very glossed, maybe a bit bloody.) lips to them.

❝ what— ❞ is all he can get out before jiwoon's lips are pressed to his. there is a moment where aesop feels as if his heart is going to burst from his chest, that he is going to fall over dead from pure shock. it passes soon enough, but his pulse is loud in his own ears and he finds that he doesn't quite know where to place his hands, so for a long moment, they hang uselessly at his sides. it's nice, as far as kisses go, he supposes; he doesn't quite have a frame of reference, but jiwoon's lips are soft and the taste is addicting, so he's quite content to just let it happen.

it isn't until he remembers his manners that he thinks perhaps he should return the favor, so he tips his head ever so slightly to allow a better angle. he brings his hands to rest on jiwoon's hips, and tugs him in closer. the kiss is returned with a hunger that aesop can't recall feeling before, and he finds that he wants to sate his appetite, learn more about the curious press of their bodies together. a soft, eager sound comes from deep within his chest and he lets one hand sneak around to press against the small of jiwoon's back, the other moving up to cup his cheek.

he pulls back, lips slightly parted, breath heavy.

there are hundreds of things that he could say now, he knows. but the hunger gnaws at the pit of his gut and his lips taste of copper, and all he can think about is the next kiss, and all that come after. his fingers curl in to secure his hold, and he simply lets himself want. ❝ jiwoon, ❞ is all aesop says, before he surges forward, pressing their lips together once more.

[hakstar]

for a moment, he only stares down at their joined hands. it's been a long time since he's felt so ...ㅤunbotheredㅤ... with being suddenly grabbed in such a way. usually, such things were simply allowed, with a knowing glint in his brown eyes that if he got his way, they'd be a body restrained by their arms to the pipes of an abandoned building when he's done with them. he's forgotten what it's like to have a genuinely interested & appreciative display of physical contact ...ㅤsomething that spoke to hak jiwoon,ㅤrather than to the trickster.

but, the embalmer's hand moves to his face, & jiwoon slips right back into his usual, helping to guide his head each direction, & tilting his neck in the way that stylists & choreographers alike have always told him to.ㅤit highlights your jawline,ㅤthey told him during his debut. he's always carried himself with his head held high ever since then.

"well, i'd do anything to be memorable,"ㅤhe says, with a subtle smile―ㅤthis, too, a controlled expression, so as not to disturb makeup artists who continued working diligently even while cameras were shoved in his face backstage.ㅤ"aㅤfew cuts here & thereㅤdon't distract from the beauty of it all. if i could even be so bold, i'd argue it makes some things even prettier."ㅤmorbid art is still art, & more often than not, jiwoon thinks that's more memorable than the watered down, mass-produced bullshit that the machine spews out.ㅤ"i don't think it's a sin, &, well, that's my call, isn't it?"

[embalmin]

index finger comes to rest gently below jiwoon's chin, and aesop's brows lift slightly as he speaks. it is... refreshing, truly, to have someone else's input! someone who, unlike mr. jerry, seems to care about the work, the effort put into the process than the end goal. it all ends up the same, of course, but to have this new outlook on things, it leaves aesop considering new perspectives. is it a sin, if the person is willing while they're alive? will his careful, precise cuts leave jiwoon more beautiful than he'd been in life? he's certainly thought such things before; there have been other beautiful people who have arrived on his table, devoid of life and any spark of joy that this man seems to have, but ones that could benefit from... something greater. despite this spark, though, aesop knows the pretense of a false smile, but he says nothing and instead hums, contemplative. ❝ it is your call, yes. ❞ he says after a moment, and lowers his hand away from jiwoon's face.

his eyes crinkle slightly. ❝ i could do things to your preference, as well. it wouldn't be the first time i've done such a thing, and i have doubts it would be the last. everyone has preferences, in positioning and makeup. i'd do whatever you asked, as long as you'd offer me creative freedom over the execution. ❞ aesop gently prods jiwoon's chest, a teasing gesture accompanied by a soft sound that may resemble a laugh. ❝ but, you did ask how i would do it, you know. and i would prefer to keep you as close to the masterpiece that you are now. ❞

he draws his hands back, clasps them in front of himself. ❝ you deserve to be vibrant, jiwoon, in life and in death. i'd like to offer that to you without all of the blood. ❞

[embalmin]

@tanztten: so rarely is he the one who finds consolation in the arms of another, but when you are nothing but misunderstood, is it so unbelievable to want to hide with one of the few who do nothing but understand you, unconditionally? der tod practically falls against the young man, back pressed tightly to aesop's chest as one hand comes to slip effortlessly into the embalmer's own gloved one― & he wraps it around himself, while his other comes up to blindly caress at masked face.ㅤ"hold me, aesop,"ㅤdeath gazes up, adoringly, through tousled silver bangs.ㅤ"you can do that for me, can you not?"

hold me, der tod says, and aesop is more than happy to oblige the request. the hand not held by his lover's comes to fleetingly touch the slope of his waist before it comes 'round to rest against his abdomen. his eyes flutter shut as death's caress cools his cheeks, and aesop lets out a sound that is half sigh, half pleading for more. at the very core of his being, aesop is selfish; he longs for affection from the one he has dedicated his existence to, but... where would he be without death's shadow looming over him, without death's watchful eye? this is the least he can do, and he will do it happily.

he leans in, ever so slightly, until his cheek can press against der tod's. not for the first time, aesop longs to kiss him. this is kept close to his chest, and locked behind his teeth. voicing it, he knows, is nothing short of a terrible idea, and even with the mask as a barrier, it is not a risk he wants der tod to take. i'd let you take my soul, he thinks as he nuzzles their cheeks together, you already have my heart, it only seems fitting! both arms, now, come to secure themselves around his love, and aesop leans more of his weight forward as a means of grounding. he must admit: as nice as it is to be in death's embrace, having death in his embrace makes him feel... worthwhile. wanted. godly, in a way. how many can say death comes to them for comfort? how many can say that death loves them in such a way?

❝ yes, ❞ he finally says, when he has settled his chin against the curve of der tod's shoulder, secured him in his embrace. another soft sound, and aesop gives a gentle squeeze. ❝ i can. for as long as you ask. ❞ he turns his head just enough to hide his face against his lover's neck. he breathes in slow, exhales slower. ❝ thank you— thank you for this honor. ❞

[hakstar]

"woah, you―ㅤuh―ㅤyou mean that?"ㅤflustered, for only a moment! & oh, is it rare anything gets him to that point these days! most compliments are dull & boring, the usual promises of eternal devotion ...ㅤso long as he's always what the fans want him to be,ㅤhe always interprets the undertones of such words as.ㅤ"that's―"ㅤbeautiful, he wants to say. incredibly beautiful! preservation even after death, such a topic after his own heart! a way to preserve the beauty of the dead even after they take their last breath? the same way he does, through his own songs, woven masterfully with the last conscious beauties that his instruments can give him?

"yeah, i think i'd give you that. who else would do it with the passion you clearly have?"ㅤa laugh, keeping his fluttering, throbbing heart buried under camera-ready smile.ㅤ"i'd be absolutely unforgettable, right?"

[embalmin]

❝ absolutely unforgettable, ❞ aesop confirms, his hands gripping tighter to jiwoon's own. to be met with such enthusiasm... it's new! exciting! most don't come to him with such questions, they only come to him for the finality of things. and, of course, he is a compassionate man, and he does his job with careful, precise hands. but to be asked! oh, he feels how those men in silent films surely do! to be recognized, acknowledged for his talents, it is something that aesop carl has yearned for since mr. jerry first placed a tool in his hand. ❝ i set out to make certain that everyone who comes to me leaves this life with grace. you will be no different in that treatment, but you're quite dazzling already. my work will be cut out for me, thanks to that. ❞

one hand lifts to grasp firmly at jiwoon's chin, and aesop carefully turns the other man's head this way and that, simply observing. ❝ you have beautiful bone structure, jiwoon. i'd only need to highlight a few areas of interest. it would almost be a shame to alter this face too severely with my kit. cutting into you, i believe, would be a sin as well. but, all in the name of becoming memorable... ❞

[embalmin]

hey omg [twirling hair] how would you make up my corpse when i died haha

❝ i'd make certain you resemble the finest works of art. statues, portraits! i'd preserve you as long as i'm able, making sure that you never lose your color, that spark of life you have! even when you're still, frozen with death, i'd be sure to make everyone who looks upon you knew just what kind of man you were! ❞ a brief, excited clap, then he reaches out to take jiwoon's hands in his own. ❝ you'd give me that honor? truly? ❞

[embalmin]

foisame: entwines his hand in aesop's & brings their hands up to his chest. "... sometimes, i think it would be nice to stay here forever," the candlelight illuminates his black & white face, & even the shattered pattern of cracks cannot distract from the subtle yet sincere smile that comes to joseph's lips ― though he isn't looking directly at the embalmer.

"though, i imagine you don't share the sentiment. i am trying to learn to accept that."

❝ it isn't a bad sentiment. ❞ head tips ever so slightly to the side, cool gaze flitting between their joined hands &. joseph's face. while aesop's artistic vision may not align with the rest of the world, when he looks upon the monochromatic planes of his lover's face, he understands with perfect clarity what every famous painter meant by finding their muse. the hand not entwined with joseph's lifts, turns his head ever so slightly, and traces just along a crack along his face. like a shattered doll, aesop thinks, with nothing short of fondness. joseph almost makes aesop believe in eternity, if only so he can spend the rest of it in moments like these; just them and the candlelight.

he will never admit it out loud, but he wishes that this could last forever. it terrifies him to think it; there will always be an inevitable end, in one way or another, no matter what joseph has done to stall such a thing for himself. for aesop, he knows he will be put to rest in the same box he summons. he's made his peace with that; he has made his peace with the knowledge he may live a long &. relatively happy life.

he has not made peace with the notion that, one day, he will have to say goodbye to joseph. briefly, his gaze is cast down before he finds heart to raise it once again.

refusing to drown beneath his own thoughts, aesop smiles. his hand pulls away from his lover's face so he may tug his mask off, and without a moment's hesitation, he leans forward to gently press their lips together. both hands come to cup joseph's cheeks, and when he parts from the kiss, his smile returns, a soft mirror of the one that joseph offered him.

❝ i... can't give you forever, joseph, ❞ he says, and a pain he hasn't felt in some time twists in his heart. ❝ but i can give you right now. and i can give you every moment after it. does that suffice? ❞