You can't escape Death <Frans>

CHAPTER 17: Safety

Upon waiting for the arrival of his feathered friend, Death sat in the center of his desolate home in a quiet silence. Inside of the branches of one of the many lifeless trees, he sat, pondering his next move within this tangle of lies. Everywhere around him reeked of nothing but dread and trepidation. Death couldn't help but feel as if something bad was about to happen, his ability to predict a hint into the future was hazy, and clouded, as if someone were blocking it.

A mystical aroma pervades in the air surrounding him, like stagnant sorrows of crippling decay, shooting arrows of melancholy emotions through the sky, plagued with an overcast appeal. The closer you approached Death, the stronger the scent became of pure hatred and misery. He wasn't even in the slightest bit approachable.

He seemed to enjoy his own company more than anyone else's presence at all. In deprivation of any sort of physical contact, he grew numb from the absence of touch even from his own brother. The only being he could touch was himself, without turning them to dust a few seconds later. It was an exhausting, excruciating curse, nonetheless, and it took everything in him to keep going every day, though he could not take his own life, as the God of Death.

He couldn't even sell his own soul, because he himself was the devil. An absence of the soul, yet filled with dread and nothing but loneliness. Why had he been bestowed with this curse of lifelessness? The heartache he felt everyday counting forward only continued to grow and worsen over the millennia.  Was it impossible for him to actually feel at this rate? His obsession over Life's successor was getting out of hand, however, there was no one around to bring him back into the pulchritudinous reality he lived in.

The secrets were piling on top of his shoulders ounce by ounce; pound by pound, and though Death had only kept his own company, stresses of keeping this from everyone was almost too hard to bare. However, the one thought that lingered at the front of his tortured mind was all but this: If there was someone strong enough to kill Life, then they were certainly strong enough to eradicate every God here in this realm.

"You do know I can sense your presence, brother." Death said, not turning from his spot inside of his putrefied tree. His hood rested once more atop of his head in the dense, wooded area they both called home. "No need to keep quiet." He said, unmoving, and his blank stare unwavering.

A small sigh, quiet and hushed, came from behind death, as well as a slight rustle of movement. It was the sound of his brother's footsteps, and they could no longer compare to the lilliputian noises he was making earlier before his presence was called out.

"I UNDERSTAND" Papyrus called, his rather loud voice echoing through the ruin. "I JUST FELT IF YOU KNEW I HAD BEEN APPROACHING, YOU WOULD HAD TURNED AWAY AND LEFT ME BEHIND." He said, looking at the ground, avoid his older brother's eye contact, though Death would not look him in the eyes even in the beginning anyways.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company during this hour of the day?" Death asked, again, unwavering. "Normally, you do not lurk around the forest around this time, reaping souls are your only past time nowadays." He said, almost scoffing at the fact that his younger brother enjoyed his job. He was quite entertained by using the blind trust of these select pure humans to lead them to the chamber of souls.

"BROTHER PLEASE," Papyrus said, "PLEASE DO NOT CALL SUCH AN ACTION AS 'REAPING'." Papyrus said, cringing slightly. "I HAVE ASKING YOU TO REFER TO IT AS 'HELPING'. IT REALLY DOES GIVE SUCH A HORRIBLE THING A SENSE OF PEACE." He said, with a set of calm eyes.

So now it was horrid? His job? Was it horrid, or relieving? Every time the opinion of his changed, as if he had forgotten what he had said the previous day. Watching the light fade from every living thing's eyes, as he took their hands to 'help' them.

Having being able to touch the creatures of Life, Papyrus, the God of Painless Death, couldn't see the worse side of it. He was too innocent to be able to recognize the sheer cruelty of such a job, to forcefully take someone's pugnacious existence, who fights for every morsel in their entire being to keep living, even if there was no saving them in the end. He wouldn't ever understand the looks in their eyes, as they cried for their family in utter sorrow and desperation.

"Right." Death gritted his teeth as he sat still upon the branches of the dead tree. Sooner or later, not even the tree could support this frail figure of bone, due to the inevitable ash the tree would become. If it even was a tree anymore. "Helping." He said, almost spitting that word to the ground. 'Helping' was no longer in his vocabulary anymore.

"I AM WORRIED FOR YOU, SANS." He spoke calmly. "THE KING HAS ISSUED A SEARCH PARTY FOR YOU." He said, "PLEASE JUST COME WITH ME! LET US GO TO THE KING TOGETHER AND EXPLAIN TO HIM THAT YOU ARE INNOCENT! I KNOW YOU ARE!" Papyrus tried to reason with his older brother, but alas, Death paid no attention towards his little brother.

His attention was diverted by the feathered creature that found it's way back towards his home, in response of coming back from the human realm. The closer the piece of his soul approached, the more a feeling of painful dread swept over him.

Papyrus' words were blocked out at this rate, as Death gazed upon his familiar with anticipation. Extending his arm, he allowed the bird to land and heard it cry loudly in vexatious manner. Papyrus stopped rambling, as if he was trying to eavesdrop upon him and the Crow's deep connection of language.

Only the familiar's master could understand their chosen familiar. 

Death's eyes opened widely as he looked towards the direction of the border between Life and Death. He looked back towards his friend, and mumbled, "Are you sure?" He asked the crow, and it merely nodded its head yes. Death stood up at once, as the bird took flight once more, and Death spread his wings for the final time that day. "I apologize, Papyrus," Death said, not even glancing towards his brother. "I have matters to attend to." He said calmly, but in reality, his non-existent heart was beating the rhythms of a rainstorm.

A thousand rain droplets reverberating the pulse of his heart, as Papyrus tried to open his mouth in a protest. However, it was all for nothing, as Death took off as fast as he could to meet the successor herself back again against the gates.

Frisk was no longer safe in her own community anymore.