Sometimes Reaper hated the cruel fate that doomed him to an existence as the deity of death. Sometimes he wished that he could cast off his cloak and scythe and live as normal monsters and humans did. Sometimes he couldn’t even bear to look at the poor suffering SOULs that he collected as the living transitioned into death. Guiding them to the afterlife was a thankless task, and sometimes he wanted out.
Today happened to be one of those days. It always hurt the worst when the SOUL he arrived to gather belonged to someone young, someone who had barely begun to experience life. Those deaths weighed the heaviest on him as he shepherded the tiny SOULs away from the bodies that they had abandoned far too soon.
The fact that no living creature could offer him the slightest physical comfort only added to his burden. The dead rarely waited around to chat, viewing him only as the harbinger of their demise, and his fatal touch meant that he could never risk receiving even the tiniest gesture of solace- a touch on the cheek, a head rested upon a welcoming shoulder, a supportive arm slung casually around the back- without killing the person who sought to help him.
His was a lonely life of isolation without end, and on days like today, despite the singing birds and blooming flowers, it seemed like his own personal hell. To escape his responsibilities and the pity he saw in the eyes of the other deities that he called friends, he fled to the Void. The vast, dark nothingness of the Void echoed the emptiness inside of him… at least it usually did. Today, though, the Void had a visitor.
It was strange to see another skeleton monster interrupting the murky darkness of the Void. The other skeleton seemed to be fighting (and losing) his own emotional battle, curled up with his knees held against his chest, one eye staring but seeing nothing. Reaper considered making a hasty exit to another timeline, but the stranger intrigued him. He crept closer, observing the newcomer.
The other skeleton’s clothing was torn, showing a wound across his chest, and an odd glitch partially obscured his face. Something bright red, possibly blood leaked in thin lines from his mouth. A long, equally red scarf unfurled behind him, moving as if touched by a breeze though no air stirred in the Void. Surprisingly, the skeleton emitted no signals of life beyond the fact that he shifted in his spot every now and again. Reaper knew the dead when he saw them, and he could see the auras of the living. This monster was neither.
Mortal eyes (or eyelights) could not recognize immortal beings, yet the moment Reaper stepped into the other skeleton’s line of sight, the stranger leapt to his feet, throwing his arms out as if to ward off an attack. Reaper recoiled, a natural reaction for someone whose touch killed instantly, but he moved too slowly. The other skeleton’s hand brushed his face, and he braced himself, waiting for the inevitable collapse and appearance of a dispossessed SOUL.
The stranger scrambled backwards a few paces and stared at him. Reaper supposed he must look alarming- an amorphous mass sensed but indiscernible against a backdrop of inky blackness, with only the pale hint of a skull and gleaming blue eyelights visible. He extended his arms past the sleeves of his cloak and lowered his hood.
“Do not be afraid, mortal,” Reaper intoned, but the visitor interrupted him by barking out a humorless laugh. Reaper continued, all bravado lost. “I’m, uh, Reaper, the, um, deity of death.”
“You missed your chance then, friendo,” answered the stranger. “I’ve been dead for a while now; only the Determination keeps me going.”
Reaper cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m not actually here to, uh, collect you,” he admitted. “I’m actually… on break.”
The other skeleton laughed a little more gently this time. “That’s a relief, probably. Do you come here to hide away from the world too?”
“I’m Geno,” said the other skeleton, reaching out to shake Reaper’s hand. Reaper yanked his hand away, but again, he wasn’t quick enough. Geno shook his hand only once, letting it drop when he noticed Reaper’s discomfort. “Something wrong?”
Reaper stared at his hand in wonder, then glanced up at Geno, meeting the other skeleton’s eyelights. “I can’t… touch people,” he explained, though the words were clearly untrue. “My touch kills.”
“Not me it doesn’t.” Geno sounded proud but also a bit melancholy.
“I’ve seen too much death today anyway,” sighed Reaper, sitting down on the ground. Geno sat down beside him, not touching, but with very little distance between them. “Me too.” Scenes from a plethora of genocide timelines played in his mind. He’d come here to escape them. “Timelines without mercy… they all live up here.” He tapped the side of his skull.
Reaper nodded again. The inescapability of the deaths they’d experienced was a trauma they shared. Tentatively, Reaper stretched out his hand and rested it on Geno’s hand. The other skeleton didn’t move away.
Shared visits to the Void became a regular occurrence with the two skeletons. Each had his own reasons for being there, and they found a reprieve from their overwhelming sorrows in each other’s company. Often they sat side-by-side, hands touching and no words spoken to break the solemn silence. Other times they spoke of their sorrows, offering consoling hugs or an empathetic shoulder to cry on as they fought to cast out their personal demons.
“Do you remember when we first met?” Reaper asked Geno on a quieter visit to the Void, one made for companionship and not to flee from his responsibilities. He suspected that Geno often had similar reasons for making so many trips to the infinite nothingness from his usual residence- the Save Screen.
“Of course.” Geno leaned against Reaper. “I wanted to escape the horrors of the past, and you were avoiding a bleak future.”
“Yeah,” agreed Reaper. “The past is full of unreconciled suffering, and the future is still a dismal prospect, but the here and now? Well… that I kind of like.”
With those words he leaned over and planted a kiss on Geno’s mouth.
DAY FIVE | INDEX | DAY SEVEN
