Character Pieces, Fantasy, Home

Time Stands Still Before Death

(Continued from ‘Time’)

They say time heals all wounds, but also that death is inescapable. That seems like a contradiction, doesn’t it? How can time’s repairs hold any merit, if death claims everything? If physical and mental wounds are never allowed time, are never be given a chance to heal? How can time be expected to fight back when it is always at a disadvantage? 

Time cannot touch death, and there-in lies the problem. Death cannot be bested or bargained with, neither can the perceived passage of time. But the Grim Reaper can. Much to the displeasure of the embodiment of time, the clockwork deity named Chronos.

Humans put so much stock and belief in concepts both tangible and not, it’s no wonder their combined will can mold the universe, can break and remake reality.

Still, you’d think that some perhaps, would make it easier for such powerful beings to get along.


Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The ever counting down of a clock, the only sound on the now silent street. A man, tall and dressed in a fine blue suit, hisses out a breath and clicks his pocket watch shut, retuning it to his coat. Still, the tick tock continues.

Time cracks his neck, gears clicking and grinding with the movement before returning to their correct positions. Across from him, still crouched, pale fingers curled around his scythe, stands Death. Pale blue eyes colder than ice as he waits.

“Well, are you finished, Death? May I return to my work?” Says the clockwork man, deep monotone as steady and seemingly uninterested as it had been since Death had first met him. “Some of us take our duties seriously.”

Death huffs, rolling his eyes and twirling his scythe, banishing it in a puff of smoke. In the distance, the roar of War’s steed grows fainter and fainter. Rushing off to find another battle, or perhaps she is simply fleeing, wanting as anyone would to be far away from the two powerful forces currently colliding.

“I am not keeping you from your work, Chronos. It rather seems like your keeping me from mine.” Death hisses, gesturing towards the flickering souls scattered around them. The embodiment of time frowns, or at least, his pale lips fall slightly out of line. Death blinks, surprised he’d managed to dreg up even a fraction of emotion from the other.

Time, or Chronos, as many had taken to calling him, had been around since the first beings of life had begun paying attention to the passing of light into dark. With the acknowledgment of days, of the passing of time, Chronos has existed. And had, since their first meeting, seemed to despise the elder Reaper.

Or at least, Chronos’ equivalent of the emotion. Given that the deity of time thought any emotion beneath him, stating them to be worthless inventions of the subconscious that had no business interfering with his or other celestial beings work. Which of course, made him unpopular with — well, everyone.

(Though sometimes Death and the others would notice slips in their clockwork companions demeanor. It seems whether he wants them or not, the powerful force known as emotions, seemed even too much for the Lord of Time to fight off completely.)

Which is probably how Death found himself standing between the escaping War and a very displeased Time.

Death, even though he dislikes what she does, understands that you just have to let War run wild sometimes. Let her paint the earth in her color, let screams ring out and lives end under the excuse of righteousness, when in reality it is only bloodlust and raging emotion. Time however, has never been able to accept that.

Again, Death sighs, glancing down at a young woman lying at his feet, knowing that her time is almost up. Soon, he will have to collect her, should already have his scythe at the thin threads connecting her soul to her body and yet, the Grim Reaper hesitates. He knows the second he devotes his attention to his duty, Chronos will race after War and try to stop her. Even though everyone knows such an action will accomplish nothing. Let it not be said that the embodiment of Time is not focused and determined.

Once more, Death sighs, leveling a scorching glare at Chronos, who flinches, minutely but still under the gaze. No one stands for very long against Death.

“Chronos, I will say this once and only once; leave War alone. She is only doing what she is supposed to.” He says, calm and cold. “And don’t you dare say anything about her work being ‘unimportant’ or ‘illogical’. We know, we all know.” Death snaps, shoulders drooping with a sigh immediately afterwards. Chronos blinks, mouth pressed into an even tighter thin line, brows twitching. Death lets out a frigid breath, re-summoning his scythe with a flick of his wrist. He keeps his form loose, standing tall as shadows begin writhing around his feet. Chronos’ gaze flickers, following the bursts of power before meeting Death’s cold gaze.

“I know what you’re trying to accomplish, but it won’t work. Removing War physically or otherwise will not stop the senseless bloodshed. It will not stop the chaos of humans turning against other humans. You’re wasting time.” Immediately, Chronos frowns, really truely frowns, and takes out his pocket watch. A few gears click and grind out of sink for a second before resuming their eternal steady song. Death sees his decision, but continues anyway, safer to be sure than sorry.

“Now, are you going to return to your actually duties, or will I have to continue to fight you while my own important work piles up?” Death continues, knuckles white around the handle of his scythe, power humming along the blades edge. For all that he and Time fight, Death knows at least his clockwork companion will cast aside his own opinions for the sake of preserving the order of the universe.

Which means, regardless of what the clockwork deity might be feeling, and oh, how Death wants to dig into that crack in Chronos’ armor, he actually doesn’t have the time.

Chronos huffs, breath a puff of smoke under Death’s influence, before straightening his coat once more. His expression falls back into its normal blank state as he nods. Pivoting on his heel, Chronos disappears in the blink of an eye. Silent and unimpressive.

Once more, Death twirls his scythe, and then gets to work. Comforted with the thought that there will be no more interruptions for today at least.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s