Kingdom Come

[ultima_mortis]

There is a myriad of suitable mounts in the world. Some are mounts for trophies, fastened to walls and awaiting their decorations. Some are more practical displays of weaponry, even if there’s no intention to execute the occasional rude houseguest. For those like Death, the most ideal mount is often the least expected. Sure, one can try a skeletal horse or a horse on fire, but one runs into the risks of being singed or simply rattling too much when riding around to be appropriately intimidating.

 

The Death of the Discworld rides a pale horse. It’s a grand stallion with a well-groomed mane. Death named him Binky. Binky’s residence in the Grey Country (that being Death’s personal pocket dimension from which he monitors all life) was a carefully constructed, if slightly Escher-esque stable connected to the mansion Death called home.

 

When one is so used to using the many conduits of the world, it’s easier than one might think to suddenly find themselves in a wholly unfamiliar location. Death looks up from an hourglass in his hand and peers around at the queer state of the Nexus. Pocket dimension, to be sure. It’s exact measurements…less obvious. If Death had the flesh to do so, he’d be biting his lip in a certain amount of confusion. He leaned down a bit to rub Binky’s neck, earning a snort from the horse.

 

OH DEAR. The voice of Death is beyond mere vibrations of air. It sinks into the very soul, like the sound of a coffin lid having the last nail put into place. BINKY, WE ARE NOT ANYWHERE NEAR THE DISC, ARE WE?

Comments

[sohoangel]

At least Aziraphale is easing up on the nervous fidgeting. Unlike the other riders of the Apocalypse, Death never seemed to have any ill intent towards humanity, and his only true fault was his work ethic. This Death seems to be shaping up similarly.

"I'm not surprised, the same angels don't exist across worlds. There are even some worlds where there are no supernatural entities at all. But, yes, there are proper aliens here."

Who would have thought Death would be interested in such a thing? He smiles, despite himself, before widening his eyes at the description of The Discworld. "Oh! Oh. Actually, I have heard of where you're from, only it's... well, it's fictional in my universe. A very clever writer wrote an entire series of books about it recently." Well, relatively recently. When you've been around for over 6000 years, books written only a couple dozen years ago might as well be the latest bestsellers.

[ultima_mortis]

The best Death is nothing but professional. It isn't to say that this particualr Death hasn't had lapses of action in his duty. He thinks idly about his granddaughter back home and the thought is enough to ease his shoulders down in the slightest incline.

I AM...FICTIONAL? It's a curious thought. Death reaches up with one hand, and in an entirely human gesture, brushes the tip of one finger against his jaw. DO YOU KNOW IF PEOPLE LIKE HOW I AM PORTRAYED? I RARELY GET TO SPEAK TO THE LIVING, SO IT WEIGHS ON MY MIND NOW AND AGAIN. THERE ARE ONLY A FEW PEOPLE I SPEAK TO WITH ANY REGULARITY.

[sohoangel]

"Yes. Er, but only in the context of these books, I assure you." There is nothing fictional about Death in Aziraphale's universe. He'd never thought twice about why Pratchett's description of Death felt so spot on, the image of a Grim Reaper was a common one. Still, it was a curious coincidence, he'd have to give those books another look...

His attention snaps back to Death at the question that follows. How curious, he can't imagine the Death on his world caring much of what anyone thinks about him. "I, ah, can only speak from my personal literary experience, but you are portrayed in a positive light." He pauses a moment, then adds, "You're the final companion of a mortal soul, escorting them on to the Great Beyond. An underrated service, if you ask me."

[ultima_mortis]

Death can feel his mind buzzing as he takes in the angel's words. There was a great comfort in knowing that he is enjoyed and respected in some depiction. The Reaper Man always cares for those who rely on his services. His hand moes to hover over where his heart would be had he ever had one in the first place.

SUCH IS WHAT MY KIND ARE MEANT TO BE. IT WOULD BE A GREATER DISSERVICE TO NOT SHOW A SOUL THE COURTESY AND KINDNESS WHEN LEADING THEM FROM ONE SIDE TO THE OTHER. I GUIDED MY OWN DAUGHTER, HER HUSBAND, AND ONE DAY, I WILL EXTEND MY HAND TO MY GRANDDAUGHTER.

[sohoangel]

Well, his answer seems to have made Death happy. Aziraphale smiles, his fidgeting easing.

"Your kind?" Oh, he means other Deaths. The angel looks askance a moment and admits, "I don't think the Death in my universe is as personable as you. And he hangs out with a bad crowd." Say what one will about Death, the other horsemen seem to take great pleasure in the torment of humans. "He most certainly doesn't have a daughter... er, how did that go? Escorting her to the afterlife?"

[ultima_mortis]

THEY CAN BE A TOUCHY SORT. MUCH OF WHO THEY ARE IS INFLUENCED BY THE PEOPLE WHO DETERMINE THE SHAPE THEY ARE MEANT TO HAVE. I SUPPOSE ON THE DISCWORLD, THE PEOPLE WHO DECIDED HOW I MUST BE WERE MORE NUANCED.

Death thinks back to that moment. The crash. The burning oil. The wreckage. His shoulders heave and he manages a deep sigh that reaches far beyond the scope of flesh and sinew to express the emotion behind it. SHE UNDERSTOOD. IT WAS NOT SOMETHING I COULD BE HAPPY ABOUT, BUT I WAS THERE FOR HER. SUSAN AND I MANAGED IT ON OUR OWN AND NOW WE MANAGE THAT TOGETHER.

[sohoangel]

Aziraphale considers this thoughtfully. "That's how it is for the other Horsemen of the Apocalypse. War, Famine, and Pollution are all from the imagination of humanity. Death extends far beyond that. But maybe you're onto something, about how you appear to them. Even my own appearance has been influenced by humanity to some extent."

Oh, dear, Aziraphale did not mean to bring up a sad memory. "I'm sorry," he says simply. "I only asked because I've sat with many humans when they've passed on, but I've never been able to accompany them beyond that..." He drops his shoulders in resignation. "That part of Heaven, the one for human souls... it's beyond the scope of angels. I've never seen it."

[ultima_mortis]

I AM SURE THAT THERE ARE INSTANCES WHERE YOU HAVE BEEN PERCEIVED AS BEING MORE THAN YOUR PHYSICAL FORM. ANYTHING REMOTELY SHAPED BY HUMAN PERCEPTION WILL CHANGE OVER TIME, EVEN IF ONLY IN SMALL INCREMENTS.

Death appreciates the concern. He's learned over the years that his emotions are limited, but incredibly profound. I HAVE BEEN THERE ON MORE THAN ONE OCCASION BEFORE PEOPLE PASS. WITCHES ARE THE MOST INTERESTING GROUP. The blue light in his eyes flickers. I NEVER SEE THE PLACES WHERE PEOPLE GO, IN PART BECAUSE THERE'S USUALLY A GOD TO FILL MY ROLE AFTER THAT POINT. THERE ARE PLACES WHERE I AM NOT ALLOWED TO GO ON PRINCIPLE, LIKE THE TOOTH FAIRY'S CASTLE.

[sohoangel]

"Well, I try my hardest not to unless it's absolutely necessary. An angel's true form is too much for the human brain to handle. But the very perceptive might pick up on something different about me." He absently smooths out his waistcoat as he thinks about such close calls. "They're also smart enough to not remark upon it."

His expression brightens a little at the mention of witches. "They're an interesting group all around, aren't they?" And of course it makes sense that Death would pass a soul on to whatever god was responsible for them, that's how it worked in his world, too, although the mention of a tooth fairy is met with some surprise. "No? Why aren't you allowed?"