The Adventures of Death

[Levy]

June held the pestle with delicate but steady hands, her gaze concentrated on the mortar positioned in the center of the table. If she had done the process correctly, and she was sure she had, the whitish mixture was supposed to turn a ruby color, but the mixture stared right back at her, unchanging, as she stared at it.

Her apartment looked as though a dust storm had blown through, papers and scrolls and odd trinkets scattered around the tables and floors. If one were to tidy up, organize all her scattered materials by purpose, they'd find that the apartment was, in fact, quite charming. The floors were hardwood, of a Manchurian Walnut variety, and the apartment in whole consisted of a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, living room and study. She separated the living room and study with a rice screen; the study was where she presently stood, attempting to reload one of her vials with a pain killing drug.

Before she could scrap it and try again, the front door sounded with a harsh knock, staccato and urgent. June put her tools down and wiped her hands on her apron as she rushed to the door, finding a middle aged woman standing behind it.

"Healer, please, it's my daughter. You must come quickly!" She had a shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders, beckoning June to come and follow her. She complied, snatching a satchel that hung by the door as she left, running alongside her visitor. This was commonplace for June; an urgent civilian would come knocking at her door at any hour of day or night, and she would have to go tend to someone's injury or disease or something of the sort. She hated it, particularly, when it was a child.

"How old is your daughter, ma'am? Does she have a history of illness?" June asked.

"She's thirteen years of age, she- she has the falling sickness. It started few years ago. Please, you have to help her," The woman begged. June nodded. They weaved their way around rickshaws and other townsfolk before arriving at the sight of the incident. A little girl, pale, brown haired, with a man clutching her hand, presumably her father. She was no longer shaking, and her head hung limp. A crowd had gathered around them, shopkeepers and women with babies on their backs gasping, little boys and girls who'd momentarily paused their play to gawk at the sight. A few feet away stood another man, or creature, rather, with murky black robes and a ghastly air about him. June furrowed her eyebrows.

"No, you get away from her! You will not take this child today, Grim Reaper!" June shouted, shoving past the mass of people. The father passed the girl to her. He shook his head solemnly. "No, hold on," She said, frantically checking for breathing and a pulse. She found nothing.

Goddamnit.

It was always the children that wound her tight, making her the most frantic. June clicked her tongue and went about setting the girl on the ground, cradling her head in one hand and placing another on her chest. Normally, she wouldn't use such extraordinary measures on someone that was dead upon arrival, but June felt an irritating need to. She shut her eyes, and a warmth escaped her fingertips, glowing onto the child's chest. "Come on, come on..." She said, her voice an urgent whisper. She sat there for maybe five minutes with concentration pouring from her features, until she opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss. I'm really, very sorry." That was all June could say before she pushed off the ground. There was nothing else she could tell them that would make them feel better. Losing a child was almost commonplace. It was best to leave quickly and quietly, and allow the family to grieve alone. "Show's over, folks." June dispersed the crowd, before narrowing her eyes at one particular individual.

"You pediculous asshole." She hissed, storming off to grab the Reaper by the collar of his cloak. Her eyes were scornful and her gaze was blistering. Although he towered a good foot or two above her, fear was the one thing that was absent among her features. "You couldn't have waited another second, huh? Just had to whisk that little girl off to the afterlife. She was thirteen. Thirteen. Stay the hell out of my way next time, got it, Reaper?" June withdrew her hand sharply, storming off.

 

[Rusin]

Death. The final peace that anyone could hope for. Some wished for it, even welcomed it when it finally came to them. Some, however, were scared of it, ran from it, or even were angry at it. Some willing left with him and some fought until their time on this plane was finally done. One thing was always certain though, death would find everyone at some point in their lives and it would claim them whether they were ready to leave or not.

Of course, this also included children who should have many years head of them. Most taken by sickness but all taken for some reason or another. Much like a young thirteen year old girl that was resting in her father's arms in pain from a sickness that has been plaguing her for years. As the mother ran off to find a healer, her pain grew until it was almost unbearable and the father wished for a miracle to befall his precious little girl. Unfortunately, no miracle could save her this time. She was finally on this list with no options for escape. The father looked up at a figure that stood over them.

Death looked down at the two as the little girl shied away from him as best as she could. He looked to the father to see tears and acceptance at the fate that befell his beloved child. "I am sorry for you loss, but she will no longer bare the burden of this pain." Death said in a deep wispy voice as he knelt down and gently touched the child on the forehead. In an instant, the child ceased moving or breathing as all life left her body and she finally felt the final peace and left this plane.

As Death started to walk away, he heard people approaching the young girl and then heard someone say something to him. He turned around to listen to the person and watch the scene that took place. After the healer gave up and walked over to him, he looked down at her as he soon felt her grab his cloak and ask if he could have waited for another second. He stared at her before she started to storm off. He shook his head as he gently touched her shoulder to get her to stop.

"There was nothing you could have done. It was her time. It pains me to take the young, but she is no longer in pain or fear. She is finally at peace from this world. I simply have a job to do like anyone, but even I hate the job I must do. Remember that, young healer." He said before he took away his hand and started walking off. He walked ahead of her and headed off into a crowd for his next assignment.

 

[Levy]

When the young woman felt a gentle touch on her shoulder, she turned, surprised, to find the person she'd just told off standing there. His words were somber, almost kind, and entirely too vexing. June's eyes blazed with frustration, her lips pursed as if she wanted to retort back, but struggled to find the right string of words. She turned her face away quickly, and watched him as he walked away.

With a huff, she gathered herself and headed back to her stuffy apartment. She is finally at peace with this world, he said. June wanted to scoff. That little girl would've been at peace if he had just waited a second to let her do her job. Still, even though she resisted his soft exterior, the Reaper's words rung in her ears—and she didn't like it one bit. Death was something despicable. Unjust and spontaneous and fickle and frustrating to no end, June couldn't help but hate him.

She tried to force the thoughts out of her mind, as she wound closer to her home. The healer retreated back to her study, almost shielding herself from the complexities of everything outside her herbs and glass vials, and went to work. It was comforting for her, working. In a profession like hers, laziness was not expendable; she had to be sharp and prepared for whatever medical emergency was thrown her direction. And she enjoyed the rush that came with it, that feeling of triumph and satisfaction whenever she bested Death. It was exhilarating.

The day strung along. June refilled whatever drugs needed to be refilled; she dispensed medication to patients that needed it and she was called out a few times to repair injuries. Chamomile accompanied her, using his sleepy powers to quell those patients who needed quelling. He was a quiet creature, patient, and he had a very keen knack for listening to June ramble. And that was just what she was doing as she got ready for bed.

"I mean, it's frustrating. Who does he think he is? Telling me there was nothing I could've done? The audacity—" The woman looked to her familiar for support. The dragon merely pressed his chin against her mattress and gave her a disapproving frown. She clicked her tongue.

"Oh, hush. I know he's just doing his job. I just wish that it wasn't to take them to the stupid underworld." June ran a tired hand through her hair, before calling for her familiar to come closer. She rubbed the top of his head affectionately. His talent wasn't just limited to her patients, as he did a very good job of mollifying her as well, and she was thankful for that.

"I think it's time to go to bed, now. Goodnight, buddy." Cam purred softly, before shuffling to his nest situated beside June's bed, while June pulled the blankets over herself. She reached over to the lampshade illuminating the room and with that, closed her eyes. Sleep washed over her body quickly.

 

[Rusin]

Death never sleeps and happens in the middle of the night. It continues its plague through life without pause or a second thought. The balance needs to be maintained at all hours of everyday. Death was the end for all that breathed the breath of life... humans and creature alike. Death was everywhere and no one was able to stop it...for long.

By the morning, many were claimed by death in their sleep as they passed from age or relieved from pain that plagued them for decades. Wounds turned sour, sickness finding the vital organs, hearts stopping... these were all ways of dying that took place throughout the night and all over the world. Death was always there... always taking them to the next plane... always a silent tear trailed down his cheek as he took yet another soul to the afterlife. As much as he wished to not take them, he was bound to the task wherever it lead him.

Today, just as the sun broke the horizon, he found himself on a street corner as a man saw a child playing in the street. With a horse that got loose charging towards the young human, the man jumped in and pushed the child out of the way only to get trampled in the process. Death looked at a sand timer he pulled out from his cloak as the sand slowly got closer and closer to fully emptying from the top. This man did not have long if no intervention was taken. He waited and watched with a single tear leaving his left eye as he watched the man writhe from the broken bones and possible internal bleeding, the only thing able to save him would be the mystic abilities that some humans had... and one of those humans he met recently.

 

[Levy]

June's morning routine was methodical. Once she found herself awake, which was almost always at the crack of dawn, she got out of bed and first woke up Chamomile from his slumber. Then, she retreated to the bathroom for hygiene and maintenance. A change of clothes later, she waded out into the kitchen and made eggs on toast for herself and oats for the dragon with the surprisingly sensitive stomach. The healer normally went about her daily tasks, usually consisting of compounding individualized medicine or leaving the house to check on previous patients. That day in particular, she found that she had run out of ginseng root, which of course, would not do.

"Let's see..." June hummed as she opened her satchel, and stuffed in multiple brown paper bags. "Okay, Cam. I'm heading out. Take care of the house for me, will you?" June paused, and from the bedroom came a soft dragon's cry. She smiled.

Walking down the streets of the capital was almost always a pleasant experience. She knew the names of a few certain vendors and some people who regularly came by, so mostly she exchanged pleasantries or bought something before moving on to whatever it was that brought her outside. Today, as she rounded a corner of a particularly empty street, June found a scene similar to yesterday, and her heart almost leaped out of her chest.

This time, it was a man with a child crying over him, and off in the distance, she spotted an unruly, seemingly frightened horse, and an owner pulling at his reins in an attempt to calm the beast. To the right stood the Grim Reaper; but she saw he had taken no action, simply overlooking the man with an hourglass in his hands.

Oh, she wished Chamomile were here.

"Sir! Sir, can you hear me? Are you awake?" June yelled, grabbing at her satchel. She kneeled beside the man and gave a quick sympathetic glance to the child. The man wheezed, as if he was trying to speak but couldn't get the words out. "Okay sir, I'm a healer. Don't try to speak, the wind was probably knocked out of you. I'm going to have to examine where you were hurt." June explained, making sure she was using terminology both him and the child would understand. She hadn't been summoned, so she didn't have all the equipment necessary. All she had were human painkillers and her hands. Oh, she really wished Chamomile was here.

June grabbed the bottle of tablets and put two on the man's tongue. "Swallow, please. I'm sorry I don't have water." It wouldn't be much, but it would help when she was finished. "Little one, what's your name?" She turned to the child, still sniffling, while she worked quickly with her hands, prepping him for what she would have to eventually do.

"Ruth."

"Ruth, I need you to do something for me, okay? Could you take ten steps in that direction and face away and cover your ears? And no matter what, you can't turn around. Understand?"

Normally, children during these situations were quiet and scared, but obedient. Ruth moved away and did as she asked. June breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced up at the Reaper and her eyes grabbed hold of the hourglass, still a little bit of sand left to fall.

"Sir, I'm very sorry." She set both her hands on either side of his chest, and closed her eyes. A bright beam of light grew from where her hands met his body, and her healing magic began to take effect. With it, came the convulsions. She was almost used to the screams, but they still made her wince. No doubt, he had broken ribs and bruised organs, and the patch work it took to fix it was excruciating. She only hoped he would pass out soon, but he didn't, instead, his howls continued, voice breaking.

She removed her hands once the procedure was done, and the man's body finally went limp. His chest continued to rise and fall, his breathing now even. June let out a pensive breath. Powerful procedures like that took a lot of energy out of her, and it had been a long time since she'd had to repair injuries that extensive.

"Okay, Ruth, you can come back now." She turned to find the child had already been looking, and once she gave the okay, he ran to the man's side.

"I-is he dead?"

"No, sweetheart, he's alive. He's just sleeping." June rubbed the boy's back, knowing that both him and the father had experienced a lot of trauma that day. She looked up at the Reaper. "It wasn't his time, huh?" The healer cocked a smile.

 

[Rusin]

As he stood there and waited for the man's time to come, he wondered what the outcome would be. There was very little time as he heard someone start to speak again. Looking up, Death caught the sight of the young healer he saw the day before and he almost smiled as he watched her work on saving the man. The sands of time continued to flow as she worked and never faltered as this man's death was fast approaching and looked as if the healer's work would be unsuccessful.

Then, Death saw something he rarely saw in his life. Something so rare, it brought the faintest of smiles to his lips as he heard the man screaming from the pain the healing was causing the man.

The sands of time are refilling with more time for this man to live.

Death looked up soon as the screaming stopped and then saw the healer looking at him. He nodded as she asked a snarky comment and then showed her the hourglass for a split second to she could see that it was refilling a little bit before he put it away and slowly turned to head down the street the horse came from. He enjoyed it when the sands of time were proven wrong, but... he also knew the truth behind that mystical power that the healer and all the healers that used the gift given to them. The truth was quite dark but so was death.

He continued on to his next soul that would parish soon.