The Scion Of Nyx

II

Eulalia

⚭

Death ignored my demand, continuing to lean back against the tree and eat his sickly-sweet figs, plucking them up in his pale, nimble fingers and into his crimson mouth, one by one.

He was pale. Even paler than me, no matter how unlikely that seemed. His skin had no texture, no imperfections or markings of mortality, simply miles upon miles of white, faultless porcelain. He looked as though he would be solid to the touch, like you would expect for an alabaster statue of a forgotten god, lost in a garden of time.

"You have returned so soon" He announced to me, an impertinent smile curving up his defined cheeks. He looked sharp, with gaunt hollows in his face and under his blazing gold eyes. If I touched him, I'm sure my skin would split and bleed. His mouth was a red cut against his marble-chiseled skin.

"I'd hardly call that soon" I dropped down across from him, leaning against one of his many trees. The carpet of grass beneath me was cool and lush, reminding me how much I missed such casualties of the human world. There was no grass in the Winter Palace; it was too cold to house such a thing. If I voiced my desire to have grass, Nyx would surely plunk a plot of it in my rooms, but it would not be the same.

"It's been three months" I pointed out, raising my eyebrow at him. It had been three months since I visited here last. My last death was quite a gruesome affair, having pitched myself out of the highest tower in the Winter Palace, and crashing into the cliffs below. I had believed that the more violent the nature of my death was, the less likely they'd be to bring me back. I was wrong. The gore of my death did nothing but delay my return, and drag out my recovery by months. Acheron was furious.

It took me three months to get back out on the field. One whole month for them to gather all of my broken pieces and stitch me back together, two more for me to gain my bodily mobility back, training me back into faultless physique. It took half a second for me to get myself impaled in the heart. Acheron would be absolutely enraged.

"Human time is tedious" the forgotten God waved his pale hand at me, disregarding my words with his indifference. He was wearing silk robes, the front opened revealing his porcelain chest, making him resemble a parian statue, stuck in the picturesque scenery. There was nothing human about him, no blood flowing beneath his flawless skin.

"How did you manage it this time, my little witch?" He asked me, stretching out like a cat in the sun, leaning against the warm, marble obelisk he was perched up against. He sighed, his eyes closed, questioning me as though my ghastly deaths were something of amusement for him. They probably were.

"Impaled through the heart" I announced proudly, also closing my eyes against the warm sun. We did not have such sun in the night realm. We only had long, cold nights, and murky, cloudy days with a red sun. It was never true sunlight; nothing strong enough to feel warmth. I quite enjoyed my days spent with Death, if only to feel the warmth of the sun upon my face for a few moments. I craved it now more than ever.

"Quite poetic" he snarked at me, "or melodramatic, if you will"

I rolled my eyes at him, tired of the pleasantries and in no mood to be criticized, "Let me see him" I demanded. Seven times I had been here. Seven times I head visited death, my demise either brought by my own hand or in battle. Seven times I had endured a painful, tormented end simply to enter this realm. And seven times he denied me.

"And here I thought you were here to visit me" He toyed with me, smiling at me in a manner that would have been painfully beautiful, had I not been incapable of all feeling. It made me slightly flinch.