The Grim Reaper Days: The Four Courts

Nothing Ever Good Happens After Midnight

Lucius was never fond of parties. Cory often tried to get him to visit to the yearly balls the Courts held, but rarely if ever did he come. When he did, Lucius mostly stood with the other Grim Reapers that occasionally came too. They'd talk and sip their glasses of triseythle, a dark liquid, thick like tar, but almost sweet to the taste like juice or soda; however, it had a bitter after taste making the person drinking it cringe.

Even though it was a ball, it was a miracle if you ever saw anyone dance. The one time Cory did see Lucius dance, it wasn't with a Grim Reaper. To everyone's surprise it was a fairy...a servant...a nobody. No one was even supposed to talk to them. Only their masters, but of course Lucius never cared about their stupid rules.

This year's ball was white, really white, so white the walls could have been freshly fallen snow or the full moon shinning in a cloudless night sky. Not to be outdone, the floors sparkled like the stilled sea in the setting sun. Other than ornately white drapes embroidered in bold black lace, the walls were bare. The room screamed elegant simplicity . Even the four massive crystal chandeliers that reflected white shards of light across the room spoke to infinite class and grace.

Too bad the company couldn't live up to the quiet yet impressive ballroom. Reapers, Angels, and Demons, like most of the other creatures of Heaven and Hell, didn't like to associate with each other — ever.

Not surprisingly, no one was dancing. The clans stiffly glared at each other from their own respective corners. There were a few mumbled conversations barely echoing across the ballroom, but the slow depressing music drummed out most of what little conversation was occurring. Lucius, of course, was with his kind, dressed in his hooded infinity cloak. More or less the classic uniform of a Reaper, it was relatively unremarkable. But it wasn't - just like him. Lucius garb always seemed remarkable, and not just because of who he was or how he wore it. Staring into his cloak was to stare into all the infinities of the Heavens, Hells, and beyond. It was the darkest black that ever was or ever could be. But that wasn't all, his infinity cloak actually drew eyes towards it, as if it alone could command a great army of the ages. Perhaps it was all the reaping he had done. Perhaps some small part of those reaped remained in the cloak. Perhaps it was Lucius himself. Whatever the reason, Lucius could go nowhere in that cloak without being felt by those around him. Many non-reapers nearby feel mortal dread and fear for life. Others are struck with an insane curiosity or a quiet infinite serenity.

For this and other reasons, many eyes were on him, but he pretended not to notice. He kept focus on Amos. "I thought this was a ball," Lucius pointed out as he took a sip of dark bubbly liquid, "shouldn't people be dancing with each other or at least conversing?"

Amos shrugged, "What do you expect? For many, the War is not over. Many have no trust left to give. Need I refresh your memory?"

"Nonsense! You should stop blaming everything on that blasted war." Advised Lucius in a more than modestly bitter tone as he somewhat nervously scanned the room. "The War is a scar, a fresh one, but who do you think put it there in the first place?"

The mentor looked at his Apprentice shocked for a moment. His former Apprentice he should say, during the War all Apprentices graduated to become full Grim Reapers whether or not they were ready. Lucius was one of the lucky few who survived with his mind and body intact. His attitude changed slightly, Lucius always defied authority and rarely listened to commands from the Courts, but they insisted on inviting him to their stupid Balls as if they changed anything. Now he was even less content with doing the Court's bidding; most could even argue he had a deep hatred for anyone connected to the Courts, but truthfully he was sick and tired of their childish act.