Actions

Work Header

Death and Fate

Work Text:

Fate said to Death, “I propose a game.”

“I always win,” Death replied, “It’s inevitable.”

“Ahh, but the fun is in the story created by the time we’re through.”

“Hmmm.”

“Besides,” she whispered, smiling as she plucked someone's life like a guitar string, “things are always much more interesting when I choose someone specific.”

 

Once upon a time, there was a boy. Fate favored him, or so she said. His eyes were the soft blue of the sky on a sunny day. He was the sort of child who always seemed to be laughing. I watched him chase butterflies across the yard by his house as leaves browned on the trees.

 

Once upon a time, there was a boy whose eyes were the deep green of a forest. He was the kind of kid who pulled the wings off flies just because he could.

Once upon a time, there was a boy. Fate favored him, or so she said. His eyes were the blue of an ocean of tears. He screamed when he learned that his family had been killed in a car crash. He cried for a very long time. He cried until the ocean dried up and then he never cried again. I watched as the smell of gasoline and sulfur dissipated into the air.

 

“Wasn’t that a bit harsh?” Death asked, steps silent as a graveyard.

“I can’t have my champion be boring, now can I?”  Fate muttered in reply, as she pulled another thread taut. “Cut here please.”

 

Once upon a time, there was a boy whose eyes were the green of mold on rotting things. He was the kind of teenager who needed someone to fight against to feel content.

Once upon a time, there was a boy. Fate favored him, or so she said. He was the kind of person whose smiles were secretly snarls and whose eyes were sharp as the jagged edges of broken mirrors. He wanted revenge upon… something, he wasn't sure what. He walked toward the river, itching for a fight.

 

Once upon a time, there was a boy whose eyes were the color of sickness. He was the kind of monster people prayed they wouldn’t meet in dark alleyways. The kind they whispered about behind locked doors with all the lights on. Nothing motivates better than fear.

 

He drowned that day. Cobalt liquid swirled over his head. Lungs filled with water, heart stopped. Pushed into the river. I should have taken him then. He should have died. But I flung him on the shore and I looked straight into his ice blue eyes and let go. I've always had a soft spot for fate's major players.

   He bled out that night. Boot to the gut, internal bleeding. I should have taken him then. He should have died, surrounded by thugs in a dirty alleyway. But I looked into green eyes fogged with pain; anger and power glistened behind. I let go. I've always had a soft spot for fate's major players.

Once upon a time two angry men met.

“I've heard of you,” one states, green eyes gleaming from the shadows.

“I'm sure,” replies the other, standing in front of him with eyes like mirrors.

“ ‘Bout time you found me,” teeth smile but his eyes hint insanity, “We’re going to change the world!”

“I don't care about the world,” is the stoic reply.

“But you would care to make it burn.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to imply.” Is that annoyance in those blue depths? Surely not.

"Oh come on!" jade eyes flash with anger, (or is that excitement?) as he circles the other, "Are you trying to act pathetic? Do you just want to wallow in self-pity for the rest of your life?”

The ice shatters, “Shut up! You have no idea…”

“I have every idea! I have a dream and you want to make the world pay,” he leans in, whispering now, “I can make that happen.” He holds out his hand and remembers the dreams he’s had since he was a kid. Dreams where blue and green eyes smile as another town goes up in smoke. “Come on.”

Blue eyes register a new emotion and look into an expectant green. Hands shake and it feels like something is slotting into place, a puzzle piece found, a circle completed.

 

  I follow them still. Ice blue and angry green. I shadow their footsteps as they dance together and apart. Follow them as where they tread kingdoms fall and the souls of their enemies drift towards me in sacrifice. I've always had a soft spot for fate's major players.

“O Death,” asks Fate, “Care for another round?