SΣTH
—S A T U R D A Y. It has been a full week of utter confusion and friction —and not even the kind he enjoyed. VESTIGO was nothing more than a disappointment for many IRA students, sometimes excluding him. As he analysed every person, whether they’d be a girl or a boy, old or young —and what does age mean next to him?
Death has existed forever, continually it shall endure. However, the fact was that Seth was sent to this godforsaken hole for a reason. A reason he much liked to ignore, since it was neither beneficial or valuable. No —he had his own reasons none would know about. Not even his dear old dad. In purgatory everything stayed a secret, unless you decided to share it. Which he didn’t.
VESTIGO wasn’t any different in the fact that he was looked at like an oddity, a rare trinket like Pandora’s Box, a mere something that belonged in a museum. Or a circus. Either way, he was anything but pleased. Death was feared but not loved, misunderstood mostly. Just like at IRA university, but at the very least there they had a fair base of understanding how it felt. How it was to be placed in a box you didn’t choose for. And how you’re punished for it. Without certain explanation, his mind lingered back to that one person, staying there for an indefinite time.
Now, his puffs of smoke circled into the air, becoming the only grey clouds in the sky. In that very, very sunny, blue sky. He grunted, obviously discontent with it. Until. . .
The Harvester of Souls dropped his cigarette in pure disbelief. Or was it shock? Never, in a million, trillion, years had he been thrown for a loop quite like this.. Someone must be playing a trick on him, but his grey eyes did not deceive him as they noticed his name on the list of Deceased. Percival Hook. Finally, after all this time, he was his. Ironically at the only moment he had not been waiting for it to happen. . .
Yet, he found it bizarre how his intuition had not worked properly —perhaps it was malfunctioning due to his human state? As all Grim Reapers, he should intuitively know when a person is supposed to die. . . Is that why he is given this list? Whatever the reason was, he should act now —after all, there’s a bet going ‘round in Purgatory. One he started, questioning when Percy’s drinking behavior would take him to the netherworld.
His orbs of silver gleamed in the sunlight, sparkling with promise and desire. Is this what humans like to call an adrenaline rush? A soft flutter of his black cloak and wings could be heard as he vanished into thin air. Appearing in a snowy white hallway, clean, without any soul —this was limbo, a place of nothingness, formed according to how you have lived your life.
Seeing this, Seth realized Percy must’ve been lonely, and alone, as if he had given up on himself. Or as if he thought not deserving of anyone’s love. But the Reaper had seen something, a tiny speck of color, there in the corner, barely visible for the one not searching for it.
“Finally. . .” Grinning wickedly, his stimulated state could barely contain himself. “How long I have waited for this. . .” Many tried to claim, but he had won. When he wanted something, he always conquered.
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『 𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝒫𝓊𝓇𝑔𝒶𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 • 』
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A stale, rather salty air drifted around the buccaneer; a bouquet of different blends he did not recognize straight away. —A fresh, clean scent of cotton. A sweet, rich and syrupy smell. And the refreshing scent of rose petals. It was the smell of his death.
Bony fingers reached up to him, but he was gone before he could act. Yet again, confusion hit him like a sledgehammer, swinging him back into reality. Perchance now he took the meaning of the phrase, the one that got away. Seth found himself at the same spot he had left before: outside, leaning against the brick wall of the building. However, at this moment he was deep in mind, on a mission —and unusually enticed still.
“My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold. There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold. . .” If you speak of the Devil. None other than the raider of hearts and seas alike had walked outside, unaware of the upcoming doom. Stealthily, with a diabolical smile on his lips, he moved towards him, pushing the man’s chest so he’d come to a sudden stop against the wall.
“Percival Hook, you tease”, he hissed, not sure for the individual in question if it’s supposed to be a compliment or a threat. “You take delight in flirting with Death, don't you?”
His dark orbs wandered to his green, with a gaze that explored and suggested clandestine things. Slowly, as if time had stopped, Seth grabbed Percy’s chin and placed his thumb on top of his bottom lip —tracing it leisurely yet roughly. Impatient, perhaps. His other hand he placed besides the man’s head, boxing him in as it were.
“I don’t take kindly to being provoked”, he murmured, a throaty sound in his voice, for only him to hear. Leaning forward, he casually moved closer to him, putting his lips against his ear, “. . .and you smell delicious. Shall I just take your soul?”
The wicked grin hadn’t left his face once.
Niet eens terwijl zijn lippen tegen z’n oor aan streelde, luisterend naar de woorden die onvast over Percy’s rolde. Zeggende dat hij zijn ziel al verkocht had, dat er niets voor hem was om te pakken. Maar het maakte een laag, onheilspellend geluid uit zijn keel los, wat haast wreedaardig klonk.
“There’s always something to take”, beantwoordde hij, eerder een gegrom dan een gefluister. Zijn mond schuurde over zijn kaak naar zijn lippen, waar hij z’n kin nog altijd vasthield in z’n ijzeren greep. “Death always comes at a price, Percy”, sprak hij op luttele mllimeters van zijn mond af, zijn tong gleed eroverheen. “Especially for you.” Een zilveren draad van rook kwam er uit Seth’s keel kronkelen alvorens hij zijn mond op de zijne liet glijden, de draden verstrengeld met die van de piraat. Net zoals hun tongen.
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Valkyria
