“I remember you mourning your husband.”

“Forgive your sister; he doesn’t like you seeing this way.”

“Do not ever make this dish again! I will grant you clemency, for you are an old friend. Do not break my trust.”

Lenora walks over to the display of jewelry her staff carefully curated, gazing at it. Her reflections from the stones and gems looked back to her — troubled and confused. 

“He speaks to me like a dear friend. What is Death to me, and I to him?” she whispered to herself. 

Unbeknownst to her, the wife of San Myshuno’s Mayor had heard her whisper something. Lily Feng raised a sharp thin brow at her, and said, “Miss Beau — Lenora, is it? I don’t know which sister you are, but are you alright? You look pale.” 

Lenora looked at her blankly. “I am pale.”

Lily recoiled a bit. From disgust? Lenora doesn’t know, but she saw the Mayor’s wife shake her head before returning her attention to the jewelry display. With sharpened hearing, Lenora heard her whisper, “You sisters look strange. Even the Strauds…if it wasn’t for your service…I would’ve made sure you’re never to be heard of again.”

“Careful now, Madame Feng,” Lenora said, voice a little loud, making sure it would catch Lily’s attention, “without us, the Mayor would have been impeached and removed from his seat last winter.”

Lily almost sputtered, and she looked around. When she was sure the crowd touring the museum didn’t hear what Lenora had said, she let out a forced chuckle, “Miss Beau, I only jest.”

Past the museum, Percy had just left the Releasing Office, where he had dropped off items that were sold off at the last auction, and he took a glance at the museum. His attention was caught when his hearing picked up Lenora and Lily Feng’s conversation. Almost sneering, he approached them.

“Then I will take it as such,” Lenora coldly replied, “Do behave yourself, Madame. We have paid our guests to keep silent when they see you here. One wrong move, and San Myshuno will not take it lightly when they learn the Mayor’s wife spends taxpayer money on auctions.”

Lily fumed, her voice rising, “It’s my mon—”

“Mrs. Feng, you might be the Mayor’s wife, but I have every right to kick you off this building if you don’t start acting right,” Percy sternly said, stepping in between the Museum Curator and the Mayor’s wife. 

Lily Feng closed her lips, biting it, and marched off when she noticed a few of the people from the crowd started watching them. 

Lenora sighed, moving her head back to the display. “Thank you, little one.”

Percy stood beside her, and the few people returned their attention to the displays. “You good? Don’t mind that woman, she’s a bitch.”

Lenora blinked. She looked at him. To her, Percy is a child. A newborn. She sees him as a big ball of energy, eager to fight, eager to defend, and eager to learn. His sharp teeth, always in a grin, full of mischief. One would think he never gets serious. This time, he looked at her: serious and worried. His fangs covered with his frown. 

Lenora shook her head. “I’m alright, Percy. We should get back to work. The auctions have started already.”

She starts to walk away, but Percy pulls her back. “You don’t look good, do you need a break? I’ll tell Coco to cover for you,” he insisted, brows furrowed. 

She rarely smiles, but now she did. “It is nothing, really. Just a lot of items to process.”

Percy grinned, following her out of the museum. “Ah, so it’s good ol’ work fatigue! I know just the thing. Why don’t we go to Sanguine after tonight? Kinda like an after party!”

“Percy, I’m not looking to bed someone.”

“You don’t have to! Caleb makes one hell of a plasma jane.”

Lenora offered a small genuine smile. “Perhaps not. Now, come on, little one. We still have work to do.”

Lenora found herself alone in their penthouse after a busy auction night. Her sister and Valentina was left at Gertrude’s, finishing off work that needed to be done, and, as usual, Percy went to Sanguine. 

She felt a chill.

“Death.” She heard herself say.

“My old friend.” Death greeted her.

She stood up, approaching him, and then stopped. “You’re here,” Lenora said, her tone with a hint of surprise.

“I came to visit,” Death floated a bit towards her.

“Am I dead?” she asked, the corners of her lips slightly turning upwards.

Death let out a chuckle, “I’m glad your humor had found itself back to you.”

Lenora let out a smile, “What brings you here, Death? Were you not mad at me?”

Death glided towards her, and stopped when there was a comfortable space between them. “I am here to ask for forgiveness. I am a deity, and should act full of wisdom and neutrality. The Ambrosia got the best of me; it was not your fault.”

“I see,” Lenora’s gaze followed Death’s black mist absentmindedly. “You do not need to ask forgiveness, you have done nothing wrong. In truth, I have been contemplating it. I don’t remember much, but I know something about that dish. Every time I try to remember it, I feel…I feel pain, and sadness. I feel desperate, but I do not know why.”

“You don’t remember, yet your heart does,” Death softly said, his deep, resonating voice suggested comfort, but she couldn’t help but feel confused. 

“You speak with riddles. You speak as if you know me well,” Lenora replied, puzzled. 

“I do,” Death said. “I know you. I cannot tell you — it is against nature — but we shared something.”

“What was it?”

“Grief,” Death said, almost a whisper. 

“I have taken much of your time. I must go,” Death turned away. “Farewell for now, Lenora. We shall see each other again.”

She reached out to stop him, to ask him something — but he’s gone. 

She may still be confused, but one thing is for sure…

Death is an old friend.