The Domain of Death Himself

Xanthus is Death, and Death has a busy life, as you'd imagine. What with the scythe work and the whole soul collecting stuff. His days are long and kind of dull, until he meets a certain, someone.


13. Reasons... unknown

He arrived back at his home long after dawn of the next day, the morning around his home was oddly silence, no birds sang of morning and no dogs howled at the fading moon. Silence was usually something he thought of as a positive thing. Something relaxing and peaceful, but such pressing silence as such was not welcomed in his home. The hostility could only mean one thing. She was still there. Waiting.

                By the sound of nothingness surrounding his shed of a home that he called his mansion (obviously he didn’t seem to understand the grander a home could commit to) was terrifying enough to make him want to turn around and sprint into the far distance.

                But just as he’d decided that was exactly what he would do, the door to his house smashed open, the door’s hinges screamed with the force.

“Xanthus!” The woman in the doorway yelled in utter and complete anger and disgust. She marched over to him and pulled one of his kitchen knives from her pocket.

“M-mother! You’re back! Where did you go?” Death quivered in his mother’s penetrating gaze, he could almost feel the glare slicing straight through him into his insides.

She gasped the man into what would appear to be a hug to passers-by, (not that anyone ever actually went in that area) the knife cut itself into the small of his back.

“Ow!” he yelped in pain, the knife drawing blood.

“You damn little-”

“Ooops, language mother!” He wriggled out of her grip and grasped her hand in his.

“I’ll kill you!”

“Violence is never the answer, unless it is to a question like… um… what is another word for… fighting…  that isn’t really another word but… honestly I don’t think you care.” He flinched backwards away from her as she drew another sharpened knife from the depths of her hooded coat, very similar to his own. It brandished violently in front of his gaze, nearly slicing into his blank eyes.

“That was dangerous! You could have blinded me!”

“That was the point! You fool of a boy!”

“Why the names? Calling me a fool…”

“Can’t you be serious for one moment! You just the same as you were when you were a child! Stupid, uncaring and thoughtless! You never care about anyone but yourself, it takes your mother to calm you down and you act like you constantly have an advantage over others no matter what situation you’re in!”

“And why, may I ask, do you care about that? You haven’t visited in years, yet now is the time you come… what do you want anyway? I have my job, you go and do yours.” He spoke with calm but there was an edge to his words, a threat running below the surface.

“You know exactly why I’ve come now, you are becoming too prosperous with this devilish business. Quit or I swear to God I’ll make you.”

“You, my dear mother cannot do anything of the sort, thank you very much, though I do not doubt your drive to do so. I understand why you think I should not do this, but I tell you now, I have no choice in the matter.” He stepped back, away from the blades reaching point, and smiled sadly. It was true, he wanted to do as she said. Having a holiday until she died would be very pleasurable indeed, but there was one problem… them…

“Why can’t you? Who’s stopping you?” She demanded, Xanthus had never seen her so worked up over something he considered to be quite trivial. All he did was harvest the souls of their unneeded limbs, why let the dead have something that could save the living from the same fate. Pain was only felt by the live being, hence the reason why his… patients felt nothing as he took what was never rightfully theirs anyway. Ownership is something meant for objects not flesh.

“My employers need the product desperately. People could die.” It was a blatant lie and his mother glared at him in fury.

“A lie!” She exclaimed with unnecessary force.

“I know that, but who’s to say it’s not true, people might die, just not because of me.”

“Oh my god! Xanthus, just tell me what’s going on. If someone’s threatening you then just tell me who. Mommy can sort everything.”

“Now who’s being a fool?”

His mother smiled, the first time she’d done it since she’d arrived, and placed the knife back into the depths of her pockets.

“Anyway I can’t tell you, so you might as well leave.” Even death has an irrational fear of his mother, so as the smile widened to a threatening grimace he flinched, stepping backwards with sudden haste. If he could have he’d have just turned tail and ran, but the thought of his mother with a knife was not a good one, after all she’d managed to hit his phone with a throwing knife. “You know you ruined my holiday. Gabby and I were [planning to leave today.”

“Wow… holidaying with your new assistant… very fun…” She said, sarcasm dripping from her voice like magma from a volcano.

“It would have been. Again, why are you here?” Xanthus repeated.

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