A Love That Builds Coffins
Most cower in fear upon the very mention of her name. But Death is not cruel, nor benighted. Death is not forgiving or unbound.
Cloaked in the white of one's eye after Life has left it. Eyes as pure and shining as the last light in passing.
She is the last to bid you farewell. She will hope to reap the breath of a life lived to the fullest. She wishes for all to use their time wisely. For existance is merely an exhale.
But not all feet are clean from the blood left in their wake. And not all hands who take hers, are as brittle as the twigs of a briar.
Men, women, children…the still. Death takes them all.
But Death is not cruel. Nor benighted. Nor forgiving.
To something, perhaps even she couldn't understand. And yet, how could I suggest such a thing, when the very concept of our existence stays from my grasp.
But perhaps I am at fault.
Wrong to think that what keeps Death among us, lies beyond this realm. That instead, it lies in something else.
Something simpler…that we will never understand.
Feared by some even more than Death.
Cloaked in the black echoes of war and plaque, where the innocent seek refuge in the warmth of the fire flickering in her gaze. Where the sinners will be burnt to ash.
Some call her the Devil. Other's a temptress to Hell. And while she could be all of things. She is none.
She is not Death. She will not reap what is already claimed.
She is not the Devil. Her words ring true.
She is not a Saint. She can make you beg for Hellfire.
Standing between Life and Death. Deciding how you should part, how you should meet.
Whether that shall be in the peaceful confines of one's slumber. Or in the agony of the stake's fire.
Her presence, familiar and volitile. An odd way of describing it I suppose. It is unmistakable. Remaining as a memory, long after you have parted.
And yet, her position in the grand scheme of the world's creation, continues to avoid me.
But to suggest that she exists without purpose, is not only an insult to the her, but to Death as well.
Because wherever you seek Death, you shall find the Harbinger
So this little snippet was gonna be a proper CinderRuby oneshot that I never got around to finishing. It started as an idea of Cinder being a Demon and Ruby being an angel. But that's a tad generic so I decided to mix it up a bit.
Just for interest sake. Weiss is the narrator.
As for Cinder's purpose? She decides how, where and what into a person is born into or dies.
Ruby only decides when a person is to die and escorts them to their afterlife.
