fearedwhisper

[fearedwhisper]

...

[fearedwhisper]

                   the running is over;                                      it’s time to rest. 

                                                                 give me your hand. 

[fearedwhisper]

Death found himself taken aback for a moment by the child’s compliance to his touch. The way she leaned in and let the world face away. He could feel her soul against his fingertips like a label ready to be pealed away. 

He stepped back. Perhaps she was more ready than she thought. And it was such nature to him now that... 

“You should be leaving now, then.”

“You have work to begin.” and he had work to continue, as it always did, “You’d best go.”

“You said you were a policeman,” Nicole pointed out, quietly. It was a weak response, because despite the lie… she did trust him. It was hard not to.

The hand on her shoulder startled her for the instant before she was beyond startlement. The sudden stillness of her mind was almost tangible. Nicole relaxed, more than she would have thought possible. A small sigh escaped, and the child took a half-step forward, choosing to lean against the man. 

Surely, the decision could wait. Everything could wait. 

[fearedwhisper]

"I would imagine,” he answered. He removed from his jacket a small book and, thumbing through, found the page he was looking for. 

“Let’s get to business, shall we? Name, Maria Hill. Place of birth, Chicago, Illinois. Mother, died in childbirth, father distant. No close family. Occupation: SHIELD director.” After reading silently another moment he closed the book, crossed his legs, and looked up at her. 

“I take it that was all correct? We do try to keep these things efficient.“ He looked back up at her. His eyes were, in ever sense of the word, dead. “Yes, I’d imagine I seem very familiar to you.” 

wasthatnotprocedure

Dressed in the uniform, but he - the entity - was a distant cry from any form of soldier. Ultimately, he was on the complete other side of War. 

“A moment, ma’am… Do you remember me?” Surely, the sense of familiarity was not one way. 

[fearedwhisper]

[fearedwhisper]

like for a starter?

          about        &         rules

[fearedwhisper]

 aggregxte

Nicole rubbed her face, feeling awfully out of her depth. As far as she knew she was dreaming this. It would explain the way calmness kept trying to impose itself on her, the way when he started talking about leaving, she knew he wasn’t a police officer. Only in dreams was understanding so straightforward. But there was a realness about this scenario that would be hard to attribute to sleep.

“Act like it? Like… Gee I love life everything’s great don’t you think everything’s great??” There’s a touch of panic in her tone. She doesn’t know how to do what he suggests. She’d very much like to stay alive.

He expresses confidence in her, and for a moment she’s shocked. She’s just a kid, after all. Most people tell her not to make decisions for herself. She stares at him, and after a moment, nods hesitantly. “Y-yeah… I guess I can.”

“I haven’t given you a reason to distrust me, have I? Or insult me?”

He knew it was defense. In the nature of humans, especially young ones. The small flicker of a temper in the otherwise docile entity that it was wasn’t a spark one wanted to ignite. 

He reached his hand out and put his hand on her shoulder, against fabric. In no danger of his touch, but the sensation would be strong. Like a drifting or a longing almost otherworldly. As if breathing wasn’t even necessary anymore. One could just completely surrender. 

“I’ll tell you a secret, Nicole. The world’s smallest secret: Death knows nothing of Life.” 

He had nothing he could advise her with. Not from this end. This wasn’t the discussion he’d tailored his argument towards. Telling humans not to be afraid of the unknown. Telling them of their time here and the thankfulness they should feel for his efforts in the end. But telling them to walk from him? He knew nothing of that. 

[fearedwhisper]

 idrxs

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.         But I’ve been meaning to find the time        to speak with you. We’re… opposites.”

              “   Opposites? Fine. I’ll take the BAIT. Indulge me. Explain yourself.            You have 120 seconds. Time started 30 seconds ago.    “

               “I think time means about                 as little to you as it does to                me, miss.

                           “You mean you can’t tell?                             Disappointing. I suppose I’m                             not familiar, but I  a s s u m e d                             that would be the... clue for                             you. Or do you still not get it?”

Some people -- beings -- were dealt with differently. 

[fearedwhisper]

“I try not to ‘expect’ things anymore from you people.” His words were distant and cold but not exactly cruel. They were facts. “I seem to constantly overestimate or underestimate the human race... I never just estimate it.” He wasn’t sure why he said this to the dying girl. He’d said it before and he’d say it again, but he’d never said it before the soul was in his arms. He supposed it was because he was, as always, haunted by humans. 

He shook his head and returned his eyes to his book. He flipped back the pages. “I see you’ve had some near ventures, but I’m no hunter. You’re not my ‘prize.’ We’re all just... a part of these things. Don’t be afraid. I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I will see what can be done. A newspaper clipping left under a salt shaker, a radio just a hair too loud outside a storefront. Things have a... funny way of getting to people. I can arrange it.” He reached out and, comforting, put his fist, curled but not in anger, in front of her resting place. He often did not touch first, particularly when he could see a person was willing -- not happy to go, exactly -- but he could see this girl sitting up once her soul was freed and body left behind. From his hand, there was a resonance the way a magnet pulls at metal from underneath fabric. The arching of  the spirit towards it’s next road.

He gave a slight sigh and looked away from the woman for a moment. Thinking how best to address it, he chose to resort to callous and reached to his pocket. From it he pulled a small, black notebook no bigger than an address book or day planner. From his breast pocket he took a small pen. 

“Alright, then let’s stick to business?” he began to read from his notes, “Name, Asha Vimal. Born, August the 4th. Occupation, ‘Aerialist.’ Correct?” 

“…Your departure is scheduled for tonight at eleven-twelve. Unfortunately, with  non-precognition victims we haven’t much time for forewarning. Now… don’t you think we should begin work on your arrangements?” 

[fearedwhisper]

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.         But I've been meaning to find the time        to speak with you. We’re... opposites.”

fearedwhisper am i more than you bargained for yet?

“      Why are you staring at me? Is there a problem with the way I look? Do I have an extra limb? Is there blood on me? What are you looking at me for?   “

[fearedwhisper]

True colors 

1/30/2015 

Prints

[fearedwhisper]

He gave a slight sigh and looked away from the woman for a moment. Thinking how best to address it, he chose to resort to callous and reached to his pocket. From it he pulled a small, black notebook no bigger than an address book or day planner. From his breast pocket he took a small pen. 

“Alright, then let’s stick to business?” he began to read from his notes, “Name, Asha Vimal. Born, August the 4th. Occupation, ‘Aerialist.’ Correct?” 

“...Your departure is scheduled for tonight at eleven-twelve. Unfortunately, with  non-precognition victims we haven’t much time for forewarning. Now... don’t you think we should begin work on your arrangements?” 

“I was called when you were hurt,” he explained. It wasn’t untrue. For an existence so often spun with tricks, he valued when he could refrain from lies. Lying contently turned the world black and white. And he had such little vacation, he didn’t know what he would be without the colors.

He knelt down to watch her, eyes meeting. The calm that followed him slowly reaching out to her. He could feel the warm sensation in his palms as her soul stretched towards him. Almost there. How easy it would be to reach out, touch a hand to her cheek. An almost caring gesture. And to carry her off. All it took was a touch, when he chose it. But he waited. He wanted to talk to her. Talk to the girl. He wanted her to be more than a last minute appointment to appear in his book. He felt such loneliness from those who were ‘freak accidents.’ People, it seemed, who fate could not quite decide what to do with. 

“Do you have any… arrangements you would like to be made? I could do what I can to contact people for you. Loved ones? Or perhaps if you have things…” He tried to be gentle. His voice seemed to be untouched by time. Eternally parallel to the world it carried through. 

[fearedwhisper]

alwayswillgraham

Will blinked twice, not aware he had been staring, but accustomed to falling into a reverie only to come out realizing someone was in his eye line. At least this person didn’t seem perturbed. 

Nodding, Will shifted to his other foot. “The only publications which regularly mention me tend to be tabloids,” he said. “I don’t expect they have inspired a good impression.” So, why was the stranger speaking to him? He didn’t ask out loud.

“I wouldn’t know about those,” he admitted with a slight laugh. There was almost irony if only the man across from him knew it. 

“With your line of work, I think our paths have been parallel at times.”

[fearedwhisper]

updated again. 

rearranged and added quotes to the aliases section.

About page updated once again

Added an appearance section with a colored photo reference since I edit my icons black and white.

[fearedwhisper]

About page updated once again

Added an appearance section with a colored photo reference since I edit my icons black and white.

[fearedwhisper]

They say that war is Death's best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. 

To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thin, incessantly: 'Get it done, get it done.' So you work harder. You get the job done. The boss, however, does not thank you. He asks for more.

The soul had been forthcoming. Before he even entered the room, her arms were out to him. Young and silent, but her soul had been screaming, calling to Death for so long now, it had become a wordless whistle he could hear from all corners of the small world. These tired people. Humans and their madness stole his circular heart and terrified him. He could not comprehend their madness. Could not answer the questions their pleading eyes asked. Why? Why are you standing there? Please ---- Please!                                           Take   me    away!

When he took the woman in his arms he felt her soul collapse within him. Home. Free. He stood to go and felt from his palms a tugging which he was growing used to in this maddening world. That was when he saw the boy. And in a moment of weakness, he reached into his back pocket and searched for a name. He couldn’t find one. 

           “...I’m sorry.”

fearedwhisper. 

     They’re going to kill her. Lavinia. And they want Peeta to see. Hell, he        thinks she might be already dead ; too much voltage? Maybe.   His thoughts        are bleeding with exhaustion and everything is blurring together   –  he can’t        beg them anymore and he can’t apologize to her because she’s dead and it’s        all hurting so badly he thinks his own chest has capsized in on itself.      They       leave her body there as they’re all exiting,    cackling and cooing and shouting        about how this is his fault                                  he doesn’t  notice the stranger.

[fearedwhisper]

He hadn’t much advice on the subject. It was hard to speak of matters one did not know, and Death, for all his time around it, knew nothing of life. 

“I couldn’t tell you,” he explained, “But, what I’ve seen, if you want to stay here, it’s better to act like it.” The way she treated Life, Death did not blame it for giving her the option to cast It aside.

“My schedule is strict. Once you’re here there’s only certain exceptions, and they’re very rarely granted. But you’re still in motion. I think you can make the right choice. Don’t you?”

Nicole hugged herself, stepping away from him, and looking behind her as if she would very much like to leave. A huff, and she turned back to him, not less angry, but calmer. Willing to listen.

“I don’t want to go,” she said, very quietly, answering his earlier question, and she looked up pleadingly. “I know life sucks but…  I ain’t giving up so easy. What do I–? How do I stay?”