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He had come back from the field the same way he always did: with a gentle whisper of magic that made the floorboards creak, welcoming him after a mission.
“Sulvain dear,” Death greeted, settling her scissors down carefully, the glow of a recently cut thread dimming into the warmest shade of yellow, “you took a little longer this time. Did you find her? Was she a troublesome one?”
Please pardon my delay, he replied, hand over his quiet heart as he bowed. He stayed like that for a couple seconds, eyes to the floor as his voice carried through the airless space within the cabin. I did find her. She was okay, just had many things to let go off before she could let go herself.
“I see.” For the first time in a while, Death was still. The bones of her fingers were intertwined over the most recent cloth she started working on, part of her deciding how to continue it, part of her focusing on the overstrung necromancer in front of her.
He tried to hide it, but she could tell. Tense shoulders that not even the cape could conceal, avoiding eyes that roamed through the room (although she liked to think those were from how beautiful it all was) and the fact that he was still standing in the exact same spot he had appeared in, too afraid to move anywhere else unless it was strictly necessary.
They had told her that Sulvain was shy, and that he would be overwhelmed the first couple of times he came into the field alone, so Death knew she had to be patient. And she could do that, of course. She was the best at it. She was not, however, the best at making people feel at ease in her presence.
She was Lady Death, afterall. And that boy, he had—
He had a question he wanted to ask. He had many questions. She could see them roaming in his head, fighting to slip out.
“Would you like to take a seat, dear?” she asked instead, pointing at the chair the necromancer might not have noticed before because she had just conjured it. Death felt a small smile bloom on her lips as Sulvain’s body jumped a little in place before quickly sitting down, a subtle thank you disappearing into the dark corners of the room.
Outside, the wheats swayed as a hesitant air current made its way through them. Lady Death straightened the cloth with her hands and Sulvain tried not to be discovered looking. He failed immediately.
“Help me fold this, please.” She extended one of the ends towards him, her eyebrows raising humorously as he looked up at her, his eyes bright with surprise and gold.
… Are you sure? Hesitation and, under it, hope. Death tilted her head, and the fireplace crackled behind her.
“Was I ever known for doubting?”
They folded the yellow cloth together, slowly and carefully; she figured she could continue it later, give those lives a small breath before threading and cutting once again. She also thought Sulvain would like to feel the essence of life under his fingertips after chasing disappearing souls repeatedly and for so long. He must’ve been worn. Death knew better than anyone that a balance was needed, and she tried to provide it as much as she could.
“This will be your last task of the day, Sulvain. I want you to rest once you go back.” To the world of the living, she meant. The world of the living and him. “You can come here whenever, but try not to make it too soon, understood?”
He only nodded in reply after a moment, in which she imagined a protest forming in his head. That was something. If he wanted to talk back to her, that meant he thought he had the right to do so, and that involved a special kind of trust, right?
She couldn’t wait to see the day it finally happened.
After they were done, Lady Death took the cloth and settled it over her lap once again. She looked up at Sulvain who was, at last, looking at her back with nothing but curiosity gilding his eyes, shoulders straight but not tense, and Death took that as a small victory.
I…, he began, and seemed to come to a decision right then. I shall take my leave, Lady Death. Thank you for having me.
“Of course, dear. Thank you for helping me, you did a wonderful job.” She remembered that was one of the things they emphasized on how to interact with him the first couple of times: to give sincere praise and reassurance. He needed to know he was venturing into the right places, that he could do it alone and that all results were successes in their own way.
“Before you go, I have something for you.” It had been ready for a while. Ointment, a curved needle, some thread and her old scissors; all of them just for him. She knew of the ways that Sulvain traveled outside of her realm and figured they would be needed eventually.
Besides, maybe a gift would help to make him understand she would do as much as she could to keep him safe and well. That he could trust her. That maybe she couldn’t answer things from his past, but that she would accompany him through his future.
The necromancer blinked, and as he opened his eyes, she was handing him a small box. His mouth fell open just barely, but enough to make a delightful laugh ring out of her, watching with blithe eyes as he took the box with cautious hands, not daring to open it yet.
“In it, you’ll find some tools to heal any piercing or slashing wounds your skin suffers. I know your body is strong, but accidents are prone to happen, and it’s best to prevent,” she explained, trying not to induce any fear of future fatalities. She didn’t say it directly, but she knew Sulvain would understand the underlying meaning of the gift: he had become something beyond human, but that did not mean he was invincible. He still had to—
“Thread carefully, dear.” It was an earnest request and a hopeful blessing. “Until we see each other again.”
Thank you, Lady Death. His voice was clear and firm in a way it hadn’t been before, making her smile widely. She remembered the same sureness in his master’s voice when he told her he had found a great pupil, and pride swelled in between the spaces of her ribs.
The fireplace seemed to burn even brighter and the wind tapped the window glass in farewell.
Until we see each other again, he echoed, and she nodded in response.
Sulvain left the realm almost in the same way he always did: with a careful tap to his pin and glint of gold trailing behind him; except, this time, a serene smile played on his lips, a bloom of trust peeking at the corners.