#deathreplies

[askflourishandpassing]

So what happens if Death takes someone then?

“Their lifeforce, their soul, which ever you deem fit to call it, goes towards sustaining me. They do not return to this cycle we have. They cease to exist. It is how the balance works.“ 

[askflourishandpassing]

@a-big-fucking-tyrantrum (Okay why can't tag you. The heck)

[ Previous ]

Zane listened. Hearing the story this… pathetic creature had to offer to satiate his curiosity. Half of which he had difficulty hearing through the panicked sobs of the Tyrantrum. Unfazed, unaffected by the tears. While the kneeling… that certainly gained a raised brow and a small uplift in the lips before he became impassive once again. Pleased someone had recognized his stature in the scheme of the world and respected his being.

Though after the hysteria had seemed to pass and the Tyrantrum said no more as if waiting for something strike him dead in his tracks, the Yveltal placed his palm flat on the Tyrantrum’s snout, calm, collected, came his ominous reply, “So what?”

An eerie moment of pause. His eyes had shifted color, once blue now black encompassing small blue slits, piercing deeply into the Tyrantrum’s thick hide.

“Do you believe I want to punish you for your so called hideous misdeeds? From what I am gathering, you are punishing yourself for acting on your impulses. Your instincts. You were designed to hunt, no? Your body requires substance like any other Pokémon, no? Albeit a different fuel source than others but I hear no crime passing through that flapping jaw of yours.”

He was curious. Annoyed but still a tad curious. “I wonder…” Death lowered himself to one knee, his eyes meeting the Tyrantrum’s, “What could have broken you?” Despite hearing the pretty picture the Allosaurus had described, he was unafraid of the Tyrantrum’s huge jaws and fangs. Not while he blubbered to himself over trivial crimes Death viewed as natural instincts taking hold.

This one was reduced to a hollow shell of his former self. As if he suddenly gained a conscious, aware of what he was doing and was now paying the price for simply having one. Locked in a vicious cycle of inner torment that left him a very reclusive hermit.

“However there is nothing worse I can do to you than what you are doing to yourself.” He spoke in a boorish tone to put the Tyrantrum's fears at rest. Not a complete lie… But what would he gain for playing with an already broken toy? “In isolation, you believe you are saving them from yourself while wasting away. In the end, there is always another predator, larger, stronger, more cunning. It is a cycle that never truly ends.”

“What you do with what little life you have remaining is what you chose for it. Whittle away, I want no part of this pitiful display of weakness. I will come to collect when you become worth my time.”

A final look before he began to become that of smoke, pieces of him blowing away in the wind until not a trace of him remained.

[askflourishandpassing]

@ask-a-chocoberry - The little mew floated over to Neviah, smiling warmly, albeit tiredly. They floated around the god of life for a moment, before speaking, "I hear rumors that you and death are in love with one another... Is it true?"

Neviah: “For heaven’s sake, I’ve been abducted! What makes you think that would make me like him?!”

(( @ask-a-chocoberry ))

[askflourishandpassing]

(( @askfloofyelectroleo ))

[askflourishandpassing]

Mud sat and stared up at Death before barking and saying "hey! Your face looks cool! I wish my face markings were that cool! Can I have cool markings too?!" - its--sushi

Perplexed, Zane brushed the pad of his claws along his cheek in an absent manner. It was an innocent question, from a child nonetheless, yet he frowned slightly. 

“Cool…? Is that a compliment?” Try as he may, he was not knowledgeable on certain terms the younger generation used to this date. From the excitement and eagerness from the Leafeon’s tone, he discerned that much and could only assume it to be so. “My markings… I can only say you cannot develop ones akin to mine.” 

“However… You can try with the earth around you. Nothing is stopping you from making your own markings. Perhaps they can be better than mine if you put your mind to it.” He almost sounded encouraging if not for the slight note of humor hidden within his tone. 

@its--sushi

[askflourishandpassing]

Baaba@Zane: I humbly ask for your knowledge. I'm on a quest for some information that remains elusive and I hear the power of the gods is insurmountable most of the time. How do you stop someone from throwing their life away? I figured your dealings as a lord of death would give you insight into the effects of madness. How do you stop the ignorant from walking a path that will absolutely lead to death?

Zane gave pause. They had certainly piqued his interest. An insightful question from a intellectual who addressed him in a respectful manner. He had no qualms answering, his brows furrowing.

“This is an aged old question I ask myself,” he started with a whisper. Voice growing in volume, he shifted subtly towards the inquisitive Rattata with a shadowed expression.

“You could always use force but what good would that achieve? If they were truly determined, nothing would prevent them. No matter the reason and how predictable the outcome would be,” he replied. He spoke from countless experiences, the events varying yet the outcome remained the same.

He responded coolly, his expression never shifting. No remorse. No empathy. “If they wish to squander their lives, who am I to halt their efforts? Take their right to choose for themselves? For what would I gain for ceasing their actions?" Certainly their demise would benefit him in the end.

“The complexity of one’s mind and the matter of one’s heart forces me to be unable to give you a more definitive answer than what you are undoubtedly searching for. I am sure you understand this for you have experienced a taste of it, am I correct? What drives them to be self-destructive? What drives them to ignore the basic instinct to survive?” A many of questions, with a multitude of answers. “If only emotions and being morally just could be called an illness that could be cured.”

Inclining his head, he splayed his hand over his heart. Its steady beat was reassuring yet he was indefinitely cold-hearted. “I will only call it a waste of life. However” -he gave the Rattata a predatory smile- “their loss is my gain and I will put it to good use.”

@kip-quest

[askflourishandpassing]

I think you deserve something better, death! *drops off a red poppy*

Where the coal provided an opportunity for a blistering fire during a frigid evening, this flower presented minimal use for the lonesome hybrid. Strangely enough however, he stared at the bright coloration with a flicker of interest.

He was a bit fascinated by the hue, kneeling forth to handle the flower with care. He did not think of it as a gift; the last offerings he had received was met with ill intentions. Yet this flower bore no damage, gently rubbing the soft petals between that of his thumb and index finger to absorb the texture. 

Perhaps it was a gift; the specimen was too maintained to be simply discarded. 

With a soft sound, he began to part strands of his hair. With meticulous care, he began to weave the flower above his left ear, near his horn, until he formed a tightly knitted braid. 

He said nothing of the small gift left at his feet; the small poppy nestled above his ear was enough to show how much he cared for it.

[askflourishandpassing]

Nalusa: You haven't offed it yet. You've only threatened it with the consequences of its actions. So go on then. On with it. Do it. What's stopping you? What are you waiting on? It's not as if there are any consequences for your own actions here and now. If there were, you've either accepted them or don't care. So go on. Get it over with. Unless you need to monologue or something like out of a kid's show. Then passersby have nothing to be interested in anymore and you won't have to deal with us.

The composure he cultivated over time finally crumbled, reduced to nothing. The light in his gaze intensified, the fist at his back released to hook into a misshapen form as a ghastly energy enveloped it. The forks in his veins began in pulsate ominously as the pressure surrounding him started to increase.

To question his actions was one thing, to mock them in such a manner was another he would not allow.

The ghost before him deserved no words; he was no longer wasting his breath. If they believed he was not serious, a demonstration was in order. His ghastly claw flashed out in an instant, gripping the ghost with a grip so tight, it remind him eerily of a toy. 

Their acts of gallantry have successfully gained his attention, for better or for worse. 

Though despite being threatened by a dangerous opposition, one seemed to want to worsen the situation with a pebble in hand, ignoring the pleading look of the Jolteon beside her.

@iamyourdoubt , @ask-the-pokemage , @occasionalcosbreon , @dailyglowingshadow , @ask-jynx