Post by Thanatos on Apr 7, 2014 2:28:59 GMT -5
There were moments in which Thanatos felt that he was watching the same several bracketed years of the world happening on repeat, a cyclical plot with ever-rotating characters. History repeats itself, Fate once giggled in his ear. I've been using the same storyline for at least ten centuries now. They just never notice! He did not heed her at the time but the redundancy of his routine caught up to him at some unnameable point in his existence and he woke one day, went to collect a soul and realized that he no longer felt very sorry for humanity. He no longer felt anything at all. There was a hundred-year-hiccup in this blissful detachment when Helena appeared, alternately dancing through and demolishing his lone little world, sometimes doing both at once. Like a tempest, she surged and then settled, baiting him into doing the same. Annoyance was the first real return of feeling because she was such a bloody brat some days. Agitation could pass for a distant cousin of apathy so he didn't notice it until it was too late and she had sunk her nimble fingers into him and tugged, unraveling a well of things that were wretchedly, weakly human.
He spun himself back together though, reaping by reaping. It wasn't intentional; the process was so gradual he didn't see it taking place. He would go to gather a spirit and he simply wouldn't look back, oblivious to the piece of himself he had forgotten on the floor beside the corpse. But Helena saw it. And when she witnessed him regressing, withdrawing into the welcoming state of numbness, she fought him with a fury the Trojans should have put to better use during their war, the sky lighting behind her when she shrieked, thunder giving angry applause. The daughter of Zeus had a nasty little temper. No wonder it had rained and stormed so much these past two months as Thanatos continued to collect soul after soul with decreasing levels of regret.
Not even the odd double-mort had shocked him out of it that week. (A French phrase for the double death and of course it was French, as they had an eternal hard-on for the subject.)
"Do you think he'll be alright?" Helena asked him after the event when they were back aboard her ship, stolen away in her cabin.
"Who?" Thanatos inquired, like he didn't recall. She narrowed her eyes at him as if she suspected that he did, rather, and was trying not to.
"The man from this morning. You saw it. I know you did. His eyes did that thing that happens sometimes--like watching a star peter out in the sky."
The death of the woman on Thanatos' list, Milah, but also the death of the man that had loved her. Yes, he'd seen it. It was always such a conclusive moment when it happened, that look the humans got when they realized their future was no more and the person that had wanted it suddenly ceased to be. Usually they mutated somehow. Already this one had been on that path, altered, nearly unrecognizable from that first time they had seen him.
"Do you remember him?" Helena prompted a little too casually. In moments like this, he wondered if she couldn't see inside his head, perhaps a gift she had bartered off of some old witch when Thanatos had left her for a night or a week to go conduct business alone. (The woman really shouldn't be left unsupervised. It always spelled trouble for him.) "We saw him...oh, was it a bit over a decade ago? In Neverland. Pan took his brother. They were soldiers."
And yes, damn it, of course he remembered that too. But he shrugged and replied, "We reap a lot of people, Helena. I can't be expected to remember all of them."
--
She told him she was too tired to accompany him on the next route and he believed her because he watched her slip into bed, lingering a moment and tracing with his eyes the way her back rose and fell evenly in the rhythm of sleep. He should have known something was wrong--he suspected that she never slept in his absence, as the ghosts came out to play when he was not there to tame them, hold them back from her. But being out-of-touch with feeling also meant being estranged from his better instincts so he abandoned her there, the ghost ship bobbing gently in the water.
When he tried to return to it, it was gone. She couldn't hide from him for long, as the spirits aboard her vessel were easy for him to locate and Helena could not traverse far from her ship. When he located it, it was tethered in a small port. He was confused as to her reasoning until he looked up and saw another, very familiar, ship docked about a mile off. "Oh, seven levels of hell, woman," he swore, descending from the deck onto solid land again and sending one last backward glance at The Jolly Roger, sighing as he did. Probably she had sent one of her spectral crew off to find them for her, unhappy as they likely were about taking orders from the once-queen. A strange dichotomy, her curse.
Her stunt had bought her some time but Thanatos traveled quickly so he was only ten steps behind her when she entered the pub. He hated crowds. It wasn't so raucous as some taverns he'd been inside, but still the smell of stale alcohol and the local prostitutes' perfume was an assault on his nose. And there were enough tables in his way and bodies loitering about that as Helena slipped gracefully through the crowd, stopping at the bar just a few feet from a one-handed pirate, Thanatos got tangled in the throng of patrons, held at bay. She peered back over her shoulder and caught sight of him. Thanatos gave her the sternest look he could muster and shook his head, motioning for her to come over.
She arched a slim red brow and looked him dead in the eye as she took one step back and then another. He saw it coming before it happened; she was all sly calculation and cunning, this one. Her back collided with the Captain of The Jolly Roger, spilling a bit of his drink of choice over the edge of his glass. She turned, feigning perfect lamentation. "Woops! Sorry, darling. I was distracted by that dashing fellow over by the door." She turned and waved at Thanatos, flashing a brilliant smile for him. "My friend, actually. Here, let us buy you another." She seated herself on the stool beside him, raising a delicate hand to flag the bartender. She glanced again at the pirate, still grinning. "You can't say no," she whispered conspiratorially. "We're here celebrating my birthday! That means you have to be nice to me." The sparkle in her eye suggested that no, of course it wasn't her birthday but wasn't she just so charming and didn't he want to play along for a little bit? It would probably be good fun.
Thanatos was glad for not the first time that he was incapable of aging anymore in this form. The woman was liable to gray him as swiftly as the passing storm painted the sky. Gritting his teeth and knowing if he wanted her to come along with him at the end of the night, he'd have to play her game, he weaved his way through the space between them, taking the stool on the other side of her and nodding once to the man she was likely amusing or annoying, careful not to meet his eyes.
Killian Jones
He spun himself back together though, reaping by reaping. It wasn't intentional; the process was so gradual he didn't see it taking place. He would go to gather a spirit and he simply wouldn't look back, oblivious to the piece of himself he had forgotten on the floor beside the corpse. But Helena saw it. And when she witnessed him regressing, withdrawing into the welcoming state of numbness, she fought him with a fury the Trojans should have put to better use during their war, the sky lighting behind her when she shrieked, thunder giving angry applause. The daughter of Zeus had a nasty little temper. No wonder it had rained and stormed so much these past two months as Thanatos continued to collect soul after soul with decreasing levels of regret.
Not even the odd double-mort had shocked him out of it that week. (A French phrase for the double death and of course it was French, as they had an eternal hard-on for the subject.)
"Do you think he'll be alright?" Helena asked him after the event when they were back aboard her ship, stolen away in her cabin.
"Who?" Thanatos inquired, like he didn't recall. She narrowed her eyes at him as if she suspected that he did, rather, and was trying not to.
"The man from this morning. You saw it. I know you did. His eyes did that thing that happens sometimes--like watching a star peter out in the sky."
The death of the woman on Thanatos' list, Milah, but also the death of the man that had loved her. Yes, he'd seen it. It was always such a conclusive moment when it happened, that look the humans got when they realized their future was no more and the person that had wanted it suddenly ceased to be. Usually they mutated somehow. Already this one had been on that path, altered, nearly unrecognizable from that first time they had seen him.
"Do you remember him?" Helena prompted a little too casually. In moments like this, he wondered if she couldn't see inside his head, perhaps a gift she had bartered off of some old witch when Thanatos had left her for a night or a week to go conduct business alone. (The woman really shouldn't be left unsupervised. It always spelled trouble for him.) "We saw him...oh, was it a bit over a decade ago? In Neverland. Pan took his brother. They were soldiers."
And yes, damn it, of course he remembered that too. But he shrugged and replied, "We reap a lot of people, Helena. I can't be expected to remember all of them."
--
She told him she was too tired to accompany him on the next route and he believed her because he watched her slip into bed, lingering a moment and tracing with his eyes the way her back rose and fell evenly in the rhythm of sleep. He should have known something was wrong--he suspected that she never slept in his absence, as the ghosts came out to play when he was not there to tame them, hold them back from her. But being out-of-touch with feeling also meant being estranged from his better instincts so he abandoned her there, the ghost ship bobbing gently in the water.
When he tried to return to it, it was gone. She couldn't hide from him for long, as the spirits aboard her vessel were easy for him to locate and Helena could not traverse far from her ship. When he located it, it was tethered in a small port. He was confused as to her reasoning until he looked up and saw another, very familiar, ship docked about a mile off. "Oh, seven levels of hell, woman," he swore, descending from the deck onto solid land again and sending one last backward glance at The Jolly Roger, sighing as he did. Probably she had sent one of her spectral crew off to find them for her, unhappy as they likely were about taking orders from the once-queen. A strange dichotomy, her curse.
Her stunt had bought her some time but Thanatos traveled quickly so he was only ten steps behind her when she entered the pub. He hated crowds. It wasn't so raucous as some taverns he'd been inside, but still the smell of stale alcohol and the local prostitutes' perfume was an assault on his nose. And there were enough tables in his way and bodies loitering about that as Helena slipped gracefully through the crowd, stopping at the bar just a few feet from a one-handed pirate, Thanatos got tangled in the throng of patrons, held at bay. She peered back over her shoulder and caught sight of him. Thanatos gave her the sternest look he could muster and shook his head, motioning for her to come over.
She arched a slim red brow and looked him dead in the eye as she took one step back and then another. He saw it coming before it happened; she was all sly calculation and cunning, this one. Her back collided with the Captain of The Jolly Roger, spilling a bit of his drink of choice over the edge of his glass. She turned, feigning perfect lamentation. "Woops! Sorry, darling. I was distracted by that dashing fellow over by the door." She turned and waved at Thanatos, flashing a brilliant smile for him. "My friend, actually. Here, let us buy you another." She seated herself on the stool beside him, raising a delicate hand to flag the bartender. She glanced again at the pirate, still grinning. "You can't say no," she whispered conspiratorially. "We're here celebrating my birthday! That means you have to be nice to me." The sparkle in her eye suggested that no, of course it wasn't her birthday but wasn't she just so charming and didn't he want to play along for a little bit? It would probably be good fun.
Thanatos was glad for not the first time that he was incapable of aging anymore in this form. The woman was liable to gray him as swiftly as the passing storm painted the sky. Gritting his teeth and knowing if he wanted her to come along with him at the end of the night, he'd have to play her game, he weaved his way through the space between them, taking the stool on the other side of her and nodding once to the man she was likely amusing or annoying, careful not to meet his eyes.
Killian Jones