#ft. death

[fyrewalks]

❛   i’ve had more than enough pain in my life, what’s a little more going to do?    ❜ // @somneiroi

“oh shut it you,” she shushes. the complaint, the dramatic lilt to dream’s quiet, smooth voice edged with pain should reassure her. it shouldn’t scare her. yet it does. long history reminds death that she’s seen far worse than the trickle of blood. she’s guided souls from fields of bodies, from blood baths, from the worst whispers of human history. and yet history does not diminish her fear for the last time her brother fell into danger, it was a trap meant to ensnare her. “come on, sit up,” she orders, her usual smile slipping. “let me look at you.”

[adamntiiums]

“guns,” a sigh escapes from hela’s lips as she rolls her eyes. “so primitive. barbaric, even.” spoke aloud before turning her attention to the other woman. “do they all carry one of those silly things?” she asked, her gaze moving from the police officer and to the other. “i haven’t been on midgard in an awful long time. not long enough to see what’s changed between then and now.”

@dcrkplaces

[fyrewalks]

“ why are you looking at me like that? ” // @somneiroi

death reaches out, she pokes at his cheek with a wide a grin. “you’re smiling,” she replies, eyes light. it’s as teasing as it is sincere; she’s pleased to see her brother looking more relaxed and at ease. the slope to his shoulders isn’t as severe as it once was on the park bench. she guesses if they were to go on a bit of stroll as they had done in the past, strangers wouldn’t turn away as boldly or quickly. “it looks good on you, brother.” 

[adamntiiums]

“tell me more about this holiday,” hela asked her date to this event, death herself, as the pair walked inside - both dressed elegantly in contrasting colors. hela, in black, and death, in white. “i’ve never understood midgardians. i don’t believe it was in existence when i was last here. i believe you have more insight than i.”

@dcrkplaces

[adamntiiums]

hela odinsdottir doesn’t understand halloween. therefore, she’s not going to be dressing up, handing candy out or generally celebrating. midgardian holidays  have never made much sense to her. instead, she’ll be drinking wine with death.

[adamntiiums]

“oh, no, something is DEFINITELY broken.” wade laughed as he lifted his arm and began to wiggle it around, quite literally, showing her his very clearly broken arm. but he’s unphased - the pain of a broken arm isn’t nearly as bad as the constant pain he has in his entire body at all moments of everyday. “wooooah, look at it!” he laughs at the sheer disgustingness of his arm as he wiggled it in ways that absolutely should not be possible in a normally functioning arm. “so, should i wait for it to heal, or should i chop it off and get a baby arm?”

@dcrkplaces