Revival || Jason, Tim & Death
Jason'd been trying his damnest not to succumb to the tug of two very familiar, very strong souls. The strings remained taut no matter how much time passed, pulling tighter as the days passed. Growing more painful, much harder to resist beckoning to their call, their plea.
It wasn't that it surprised him, oh no, it had been expected. For fuck's sake, his Tim was possessed by Paimon and he was Death! So yeah, there was no surprise that.. another Tim, and another him had died. It didn't make it less painful, however. And much like it had been when Damian and Tim had died, he still didn't want to reap them. He was selfish like that. So he may, or may not have looked into reviving them, as he hadn't done that before, and he really didn't want to fuck them up further.
But now... it'd been two months since the two had died (and he's pretty sure this Jason is the one he'd created a blood bond with; maybe that explained why he felt particularly sappy) and now he couldn't put it off any longer. Not without Mother Earth coming to kick his ass a second time.
Adjusting his shirt, he stepped into the Astral Plane, Death's Cloak materialized upon his person. Jason raised a hand, capturing the two taut strings between forefinger and middle, he started forward, cutting the distance dramatically using the supernatural plane of existence. As he stepped from it, he realized without even having to second guess himself, that they'd been kept in the cave at the manor.
He approached both their bodies; both cold, nowhere near deteriorating, and looking like they were in the process of healing. They'd continued to heal upon their deaths, their hair, their nails, had also continued to grow; they hadn't deteriorated at all, of course, he hadn't come to collect their souls.
And he wouldn't. He'd fix them, and shove them back in and... and he'd talk to Alfred.
His heart clenched almost as tight as his jaw did; he always felt bad when it came to Alfred. He'd always given them so much and he wasn't quite sure if any of them had lived up to par to make the man proud, despite what he'd tell them...
He sighed softly, not even bothering with the gloves in which to pull their souls out with, but instead, hoisting one, then the other over his shoulders, their bodies not so much as stiff but more as if they were simply asleep; not even the stench of death was present.
He wondered if Alfred or Bruce had noticed that oddity.
No matter. Securely gripping the both of them around the legs, he turned, stalking into the Astral Plane, not letting either so much as budge from his shoulders as he sought out the warmest place the both of them seemed to agree on on a subconscious level. Parting the tangle of strings within the plane, he stepped out and into an apartment, his bare, callused hands curling tight on both their bare hips.
Even he felt at home here...
Jason shook his head and moved towards where he assumed the bedroom was - like he was surprised that it actually was the bedroom - and nudged the door open with his knee, pushing his way in and with a strange kind of care (that he blamed on being dead to begin with) set one and then the other on the bed before covering them with the blankets present.
Scrubbing a hand along his face, he pulled his gloves out, and then yanked both onto his hands, reaching into one with one hand, and the other with his other hand, pulling their souls from their bodies. For a long moment, Jason gazed at the tangled heap of string, pieces of their lives and pieces of their last moments flickering through his sight as he dragged the chair close to the bed, plopping himself down into it as his fingers methodically went about very carefully untangling the both of their souls; first one, then the other.
Their last moments were particularly messy, particularly desperate, most definitely certain and ready and... fuck, they were going to hate him. But he wasn't going to back out now, the world still needed them, and they still needed each other. Even so, all of their last moments, as touching as they'd been, they were too... raw. All that returned at once, it would be too much. For now, he'd block some of those memories, least they return raw and savage and broken.
Standing again, cradling both souls within his gloved palms, he dipped both their souls back into their bodies, retracting his hands and bringing both gloved hands to his mouth. A sharp, deep red glow masked his teal eyes as souls tumbled from his lips, snatching one each by the end of their "tails" between forefinger and thumb and looking at the wriggling masses. These unknown souls, these reaped souls would aid him in bringing them back. They gave the demons life, they would give these two life. Consequences against himself be damned. Consequences for Tim, for Jason.. they could handle it, that extra feeling, that extra strength, that extra energy. They wouldn't abuse it, he knew they wouldn't.
With another sigh, he pushed the wriggling, icy hot masses in to join the unreaped, untangled souls. Eyes still glowing, souls still tumbling about between his lips, he leaned over, silent, placing a kiss to first Jason's cold lips, (and he really should be figuring it odd to kiss himself, but that feeling seemed to be absent; he'd surmised it was because he was hot and the Fates could kiss his ass,) feeding the man some of the souls he usually reserved for the demons, then moving to Tim, and doing the same with him. Pulling back from the two, he stepped back, and waited. Waited for that final trigger to kick in, and the both of them to breathe.