Chapter Text
Death; described as the inevitable end of all living.
Death was always such an interesting subject. I mean, do you not, too, feel the want to explore the never ending sea of which is the concept of life and the end of all?
The thought irked you. Able-minded to the fact that you were bounded to the hands of time.
Someday; wrinkles will kiss every edge of your skin, you will become aware of the growth of the silver vines present within your scalp, aching joints guiding you every step of the way, as the year's pass by like dandelions being swept by the wind; until you reach the light. Although it may be grim, it always gave you some sort of peace.
All human beings were born with the desire to know. The need to be knowledgeable in things uncertain.
But alas, as the saying goes; curiosity killed the cat.
Which leads us to this, funky little scenario.
You don't recall anything from your past. As you were only left with a feeling of sorrow, grieving over a memory that of which you do not remember being quilted in your chest, like a mole digging a void into your soul, your self-grievances made home within your heart.
A weak sigh leaves the guarded gates of your mouth, as you continue forward; looking into the sockets of the other.
A skeletal face meets your eyes. The unfigurative persona of Death. He was cloaked in black, masking away most of his form with the cloth. The edges of the reaper's garment dragged against the floor as he walked, guiding you down the path.
The sound of leaves crunching below your feet filled the air, as you took in the lush decor of Mother Nature's lovely abode which is the sod of the world, yet to be currupted by the unforgiving, mangy hands of human civilization. You pause, admiring the flowers which seemed to dance lively in the wind. Ripe fruit which hanged from the ever-growing timber of life swung gently in the calming breeze, sending quivers over the boasting leaves. The soft glow of..whatever the light came from, —glazed the surface of every object with it's warm radiance.
Every corner you may gaze upon, your lenses would be shunned in the Earth's natural fair effulgence, feeling like a Neurodivergent creator with an unnatural obsession with pixels on a screen looking at a rare painting you'd find in an art museum. Eyes coated with awe.
The figure notices, and stops; not a single word leaving it's mouth. He allows you a couple seconds of silence before tilting his head, accompanied by a huff of air leaving his nostrils, or well, where they should have been if he had the cartilaginous inner form of a nose; mimicking a sigh.
"I believe it's time we move onward. We don't have time to admire the garden, dove."
Time.
If only you had more of it.
What a dream,
"I didn't want to go. Why did you let me?" An echo diverges from your mouth.
The grim reaper parts his gaze from your form, nothing but familiarity situating within his absent soul.
The bone-y structure of the figure's jaw opens to speak, it's voice calm and unmoved. "Who am I to say what will be and will not? I have no control over the path you may end up taking, what fate you may find yourself unable to escape from." Death, itself, utters.
You were silent. For a moment at least. "They didn't tell me you were a philosopher.."
He...—Death hummed in reply, twirling his fingers onto his scythe with his demeanor unperturbed. "Labels,... I never understood why you humans fixate on them so much."
Silence emits from your speakers, the sound of ringing flaunting itself in your ears.
"I don't know, either." You wanted to respond with,
But you didn't.
And you didn't know why not.
You continue walking,
It was quiet. It didn't seem to bother the skeleton, however. He, based off of what your vision is telling you; enjoyed the silence.
"Where're we headed?," You asked, your croaky inquiry being met with a humble sigh. It was barely audible to even your own ears, it was a surprise that the abtrused skeleton could hear what you had said.
"To what you could, I suppose call your destined destination."
"So, the afterlife?"
"You may call it that, yes."
You nodded, even though he was in front of you, facing forward.
It was quiet. The silence was deafening, boring you half to your second death.
"...Why don't I remember anything?"
Death turns his skull towards your direction, "Hm?" He twists his wrist, spinning the scythe over onto it's head; a talon-like, carved edge. It had various articulate designs etched into the metal, some you think were in a language you could not understand. You wonder if he made it himself...
"—From my past, I mean." You explain, "I try to recall it but nothing comes to my mind."
"It's getting frustrating."
Death paused, seemingly thinking of another philophous response to answer your question with. "Knowledge only causes people to dread. You would be better off not knowing."
"—You won't be needing your memories anyway, where you're going,"
You furrow your brows, "Where exactly am I going, then?"
"You don't need to know."
A twig is crushed below your boot, as you stop in your tracks.
"Who are you to say what I should know, and what I don't?" You snap, retorting sourly, referencing what he had said earlier with bitter sarcasm.
The hooded reaper doesn't move, and his ever-nonchalant demeanor is starting to get on your nerves. Although you couldn't pinpoint his emotion based off of his facial features; you could sense the reaper's unmindfulness through the air.
He sighs,
"..This walk is going to be longer than expected."