I HAVE BECOME DEATH
the destroyer of worlds
TAGGED: ... | WORDS: 502 | NOTES: ...
Death weaved its way toward Rose Garden, by means of ash in the sky, blown by a gentle breeze to the beautiful city. The ashes lowered from the sky and dove downward, into the lacrima-lit streets, where people walked busily by. They darted around those beings, swirled around them in flurries, but were soon to pass them by, as if they were only looking. Nothing notable about those people, other than that they were heading to the same place the ashes were going. Here in this wondrous city, the ashes had come for their passport, to keep themselves busy with more jobs. What followed these specks of ashes was a mass of decay, crawling along the stone and eating it, along with what people were in its way. Screams of pain and terror filled the air around the ashes, and from them, the ashes would discretely smile.
Rushing along the streets, the ashes finally came to the building in which they were meant to retrieve their passport. However, this building was just as busy as the streets that they had passed through, and they spun together. Puffing out like smoke, a crimson-cloaked man stood silently in the line that wrapped around the building. He remained quiet as people chattered in the line as loudly as they could, which irritated him to no end. Marcel did nothing though, trying to keep as still and as goodly as he could be for a dark mage, who merely wanted to kill. No, he did not want to kill the people around him, it was Death who the people to die that were all around him. Just a servant and that was all; a servant who was meant to do the dirty work for someone who was supposed to do it themself.
Eventually, the mage pushed forth in the line, walking around the people, who had now become trapped in his life-draining aura. While they decayed, he furthered his advance in the line, until he had reached the doors and entered inside. He blinked his sensitive, fire-colored eyes, narrowing them against the bright light before continuing his journey. Soon he was brought upon a desk, where a pretty lady stood and smiled at him, ready to help him out with his passport. They proceeded to talk for a while and she began writing things down on a piece of paper, lies all they were. Before long, however, the man had the paper and booklet grasped in his hand and turned on his way. Marcel dispersed into a mist of ash and darted from his place in the building to the outside world and was blown away. While this one had not been a job where he had to kill people, later down the road, he knew there would be jobs that called for it. This one had been easier for him, he was glad for it; a change in scenery, pace, and emotions. Nothing bound by Death to be taken, but soon there would be.