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Death—the first thing she'd heard after her birth. How can death be born? Who gives life to death? Those philosophical questions need not matter; they shall never matter as long as they say so. You, so benevolent and so bright, who brought Death itself into being, people revere you. That person remains unreachable by anyone. The one thing that cannot die, the only one she will not touch.
Do not stain that brightness with her bloodstained hands.
"Do you find enjoyment in it?" Time's wispy, almost bored, voice asks, and Death turns to look. This one—time. Time, time, time. "I cannot tell the future; use your words." Death sighs, hands folded, and Time hums, head resting against her knees.
"... I forgot." Death, Ronova. Time looks, barely, then casts her gaze away. Death, your once pale white rings are completely red, stained with the blood of the mortals the one you love claims to love.
Time glances back, and Death frowns, "Out with it."
"Why do you love them?" Time itself holds no adoration for her creation. If not for these laws, she could revert to her birth and make it so that she never existed; an anomaly, a paradox, she'd prefer to be that instead of the Primordial One's Shade. That creature shines so brightly, and yet they are disgustingly hollow and cruel.
Death takes a deep breath, hand against her chest. There is no beating heart in there, just the mere authority given to them upon their birth, but she can still recall. 'And you shall be Death.' Their pure voice, the one who held her so close, was not tainted. She can't possibly touch them now, for tainting them is unforgivable.
"Does every child not love their parent?" Death asks, and Time quirks her eyebrow. "..." Should they? Death is their most useful subject, but that creature does not love them.
They hold no love they claim to hold. Time knows not of love either. "Time?" Death frowns, turning to find Time gone, whisked away into the wind. She frowns, crossing her arms. Hah...!
"Death," Their voice calls, and she instantly looks at her feet. "Yes? How may I be of use?" She dares not look at the holy presence, nor their holy light, for even looking will stain them. Her glance is so utterly sinful for the likes of them.
"Where is Space?" Of course. Space. It is Space this time, but her chance will come, eventually. "I shall go look for her." She waits quietly, still in place, as they walk ahead, not sparing her another glance.
Yes, this is how it should be. She'll do anything—anything and everything. Death exists for their sake alone. Only for their sake, yet why won't they spare her another glance? Why won't they call for her as they used to?
Time looks from the horizon, the wind blowing on the heavens, the apples rotten. "So docile and sweet for Death." She leans against the tree trunk, it shrinking by her mere touch. "This is why you'll die, dearest sister." Should your parent be your master?
... "Ronova," Time whispers, then takes a deep breath. What was she going to say again?
To die is to stop living or to cease existing. Death must not die. It cannot die. "Istaroth...!" Ronova coughs, floating in the space that Time had created. How does Death die? To stop ceasing to exist. To think Death of all people would be punished again, and this time be killed.
"I'm learning to play the lyre," Istaroth begins, strumming a note. "How does it feel to die, Ronova?" She asks, strumming another note, and Ronova coughs, her body barely holding her.
"... Wouldn't Time know best?" She grunts, and Istaroth hums. "Death—I've heard it doesn't only belong to a living existence." Concepts may die, inanimate objects, machinery- they all die. Today marks the day that Death dies. To chat like this for only a brief moment, she's not sure what to say to this ill-tempered, lonesome Death.
"You're dying all alone," Istaroth states, and Ronova huffs, "How stupid... everyone dies alone." Certainly. To think that this heap of flesh that has no heart is merely fading into the ether.
Istaroth has wanted to ask for a while now; even if she knows now the answer would be a lack of response, she wants to know. "Did you find enjoyment in it?"
"..." Death takes a deep breath, and Time closes her eyes. As expected, there isn't a response. "They stripped it away from me."
"I hold no love for them, but I--" Time stills, the space fading into existence. Ronova's presence is no longer felt. I don't want to die.
How unexpected. Ronova, the one you'd worshipped for so long, eventually had you killed. "Hah..." Time takes a deep breath. "Goodbye, Ronova."