Sing Your Death Song [Marceline & Dubhlainn]

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 328   |  NOTES: ...

Marceline quietly plucked a paper off the job board and ran her eyes across the words that had been written upon it. It was a B rank job, but she knew if she could get someone to go along with her on the job, it would be totally allowed. However, there were very little people that she knew would go on a job with her, without degrading or belittling her. Plus, she didn't want to bother Raiza after having just recently gone on a job with him; she needed someone else to bother. Who could she bother though? Viktor was far too strange of an old man to try to pest, plus he kind of scared her. Dubhlainn. . . would he go on a job with her? Probably not. He seemed to disapprove of her when she had first joined. The woman sighed and plucked at the tall collar of her crimson cloak, then let her eyes wander over the guild hall.

Afterward, the woman turned on her heels and walked over to the bartender, slapping the piece of paper down in front of them. "I want you to sign me up and whoever decides to come with me. Don't think so willy nilly either, that's an order!" she stated. With that being said, the woman spun back around on her heels and looked to the guild hall and the people within it. "Does anyone want to come on a job with me?" Marcy called out with that lilted, yet menacingly sweet voice. Now, she just had to wait to see if anyone would join her, if not. . . she'd just find another job to go on. As if that was easy to do though; it was a lot easier said than done, and she wasn't up to doing much work. Quietly, the mage would take a seat on one of the stools by the bar, resting her elbows on the counter top as she waited.

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 329   |  NOTES: ...

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. . . Marceline glanced up from viewing her nails, nonchalantly crossing a leg over the other. "Going to. . . berate me over the treatment of fleshy sacks of meat?" the woman inquired, eyeing the Dullahan. A sigh would escape the slender throat of the lady before she pushed herself to her feet and dusted off her cloak. "If no one wanted to go with me, then I would be happy to go on my own, but seeing as you're here and you just offered yourself to me. . ." She let the sentence trail off on a rather sexual note, then flipped her silken hair over her shoulder and looked him over. "I suppose I can take you along. . . knowing you though, you look like someone who would just tag along, uninvited." Her words were harsh, though considering their former interactions, he wasn't someone to easily piss off. . . or was he?

"Would you care to know what the job is or not really?" Marcy asked shortly after the little scolding that she gave. Though it hadn't been much of a scolding, she still found that it was possible to have come off as rude to him. "I don't know what rank you are, let alone what jobs you have gone on already; so, it may just be a repeat of one you've done." She shrugged and let her gaze fall back to the paper that rested on the counter by the bartender, who stared at the two. "Well, anyway, it's an assassination contract. . . you seem like the kind of person fit for a job as such, so. . ." The woman whirled on her toes and faced back to the bartender, motioning to them to sign Dubhlainn and her up. "Next question! How would you like to travel to Crocus? Care to have a bit of fun with traveling by ash or no?"

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 735   |  NOTES: counts as two

The Dullahan was right, all men, women, and children, equally, were useful to the guild, whether it be for cannon fodder or not. To a mage like her though, to the embodiment of Death and Decay, all things were useless, as they were not mortal. Everything died in her eyes, and when they died, they became a useless sack of flesh, meat, and bones for her to decay. That was the life of this beauty; a life of slaughtering the dead or killing those who had yet to die, but needed to. As he answered her, the woman stared at him with her ill begotten eyes, their red eyes intently observing Dubhlainn. He could be right all he wanted, but in her sense, in her view, everything was as useless as a bag of bones. They were meant for ash and nothing more, and ash was her only means of travel, so she kept those bones on her at all times.

"For Death, everything is useless. You want to know why? It's because all things die, not everything is immortal like I am," she retorted.

All things could not live forever, unless they were husks of shells like she was, sustained on the life essence of those she killed. A living, breathing, walking corpse, only animated by the demon souls that were harbored inside of her by Death's means. Her eyes darted down to her right hand, which curled into a claw, allowing for a flame-like, white energy to appear. It swirled and sparked like fire, breathing in the oxygen that most beings needed in order to live on with their lives. After a moment of staring at it, the woman closed her fingers around it, creating a fist and snuffing out its life. Could this man before her die if he stepped into her aura, that's what she was most curious about at the time. Could something as dead as her, be taken of its life by means of her magic? Or would he be the only one able to surpass the deadliness?

"I cannot die," Marceline returned in a matter-of-factual voice, her eyes shifting back to look into Dubhlainn's with seriousness.

Her hand went back inside of her cloak to hide, though it was grasping hold of a pouch that rest on her right hip. "Those knights get near me and their lives will start to drain before they can even come close to touching me. I was designed to be a creature of avoidance, one that you can't get close enough to without earning yourself some kind of injury." She didn't want to go into the details of how her magic worked, mostly because she, herself, didn't quite understand. Perhaps, when she learned a bit more, Dubhlainn would care to know, he seemed like someone who loved learning new things. Maybe she was wrong though, it was hard to tell what this Dullahan liked and didn't like; hard to get a reading off him. Marcy frowned and her hand came out from her cloak again, blowing the ash into Dubhlainn's face, where it began swirling around him.

Marceline's own body began to disintegrate into the same style of ash blown at her partner, until nothing was left of her, but a cloud of ash. This cloud of ash darted toward the doors of Savage Skull, slipping through the cracks, and out into the open air. From there, the ashes were swept up by the wind, tumbling and rolling through the sky as they were carried off to Crocus. Unfortunately, she already had a pretty bad reputation in Crocus, after the little incident job she had with Raiza. Hopefully, that house was restored by now and the woman had long since forgotten about her ever raping her. Or maybe she died from the sustained injuries her magic had given the woman, then she wouldn't have to worry at all. Then again, would anyone recognize her in that kingdom, considering that now, she was a woman rather than a man.

Before long, they would arrive at a back alley, Marcy shifting back into her form as the ashes swirled together and dispersed.

You don't suppose where he could be, do you? she thought to the voice in her head, looking for an answer.

Just follow what your heart tells you, my dearest servant, and it will tell you where the living must die.

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 916   |  NOTES: counts as three

"You may do as you please," Marcy waved a hand at Dubhlainn willfully when he spoke, never looking to him. If he wanted to go to his arsenal, that was entirely all right with her because she wasn't one to keep people trapped at her side. She allowed them to freely roam if they wanted, and the less they were by her, the less potential of them dying. In fact, it made perfect sense for him to be able to go to his weapons; it was more time on her own and less by him. A hindrance of belief that he did not like her in the least bit, saw no potential in a creature such as herself. To her, he was a hard to please guy, but she wasn't there to impress, and by letting him go, she had a small set of freedom. "I'll be out in the city, awaiting your return before we begin this mission," she added after a short moment of silence.

Marceline bounced out of the alleyway and started striding down the sidewalk, but no matter where she strode, something crumbled before her wake. It was either the cement of the sidewalk that cracked and fell to pieces or it was the brick buildings that met their match. She had to watch it all unfold around her as she walked through the streets of Crocus, and be unable to do anything about it. The sadness, that had subsided when they arrived at the kingdom, returned to her and she pouted at the sight. What would she be able to touch when all that was around her simply decayed if she remotely happened to be in its presence? Perhaps, if she ever found a way to stop her aura from taking as it pleased, she wouldn't see herself as much of a burden anymore.

I sense the sadness in you. . . what is it, my lovely, little servant? What is bothering the mind of Death, herself?

The voice stopped her in her tracks and she stood there, the aura eating away at whatever it could get its wisps on. Death, herself? she repeated the spoken words in her head, blackened eyes staring into the space ahead of her. She had always viewed herself as lower than Death, and now he was calling her His name, which she found strange. Was her magic so life-consuming that even He now considered her Death? What did that mean for herself now? Her eyes darted downward and stared at the black that was beneath her, the essence of Death, itself residing on the ground. Marcy found that she could will herself no farther than the few feet that it had taken her to leave that alleyway. Nothing in this world could stop Death, not even the one who controlled it, and she was beginning to fear the worst.

Of course. . . you have my powers, should I not consider you Death as well? You control ever living being's ability to live. . .

"I know I do," Marceline whispered, her hands move to entangle their fingers together in a tight, scared hold. "But Master, I would much rather not be considered so highly; you are who gave me this magic, please don't call me such. . ." She could not fathom the idea that she would ever become the level of her own master when he still ordered her around. Was he seeing her differently now? Her eyes lit up and she glanced from the darkness at her feet to the living world again. "If they all simply stay away from me, then they will not have the issue of dying, no? Just keep them all away. I can live in solitude for the rest of my life, just as the ancient priest did all those centuries ago when your magic was first discovered. Is that possible, Master? Is it possible to keep everyone away from me by simply living in solitude somewhere else?"

No matter where you walk, my lovely, little servant, you will be taking life wherever you step, it is the consequence of immortality.

"But I do not wish to live forever! I was fine with dying from that illness, you have essentially ruined my life, Master!" she yelled. Some people had stopped and looked at her, and she cleared her throat out of embarrassment before wandering away to get out of the prying eyes. "See what you made me do? I do not wish to live forever, you had cursed me with your magic all those centuries ago. I simply want to be dead." That was her one wish in the world and if there was a genie to grant it, she'd be happy.

It would be only a matter of moment before she rushed into someone, stumbling backward and hitting the ground. Marcy glanced upward from her place, noticing the guards standing there, and the one she bumped into, looking down upon her. She looked away angrily and stood to her feet, dusting herself off before her hand was grabbed by the guard.

"Let me go, Fool!" she growled, twisting her hand around, so that it touched the armor of the guard and began decaying it. Malice was in her eyes and the guard could clearly see the ill intent she had, beginning to reach for his weapon. Marcy simply stared into his eyes, as if challenging him to take the weapon from its sheath and fight her.

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 652   |  NOTES: counts as two

Marceline watched as the man went rigid, his hand stiffening on her wrist before relaxing and letting her go. The two squadron commanders fell unconscious to the ground and in their place stood Dubhlainn, who roughly grabbed her wrist. She was pulled along by the man, beyond the fallen guards, to a place where the Rune Knights would have already patrolled. He asked of her why she was acting on her own accord and she was taken aback by his abrasive nature toward it. Was she not her own being? Did he, too, simply see her as someone he could command around at his own free will? Shame filled her grayed cheeks with a red hue and she looked down to the cobblestone ground, yanking her wrist free. Marcy did not answer Dubhlainn at first, lightly rubbing her wrist that had now been abused by two strong men.

"Stay away from me," she ordered, not wanting him to be within the confines of her life-eating aura right now. "Go back to your weapons and find something or someone else to bother; I can do this on my own. . . I'm not a weakling like you're making me out to be." A grimace appeared on her face as she looked up and dead in the eyes of the Dullahan, red optics glittering like fire. Her words did not answer the question he had asked of her, but she did not know the true answer to that. She did not act on her own accord, she acted on the accord of what Death wanted her to do, and sometimes, she made mistakes. The woman dropped her hands to her sides and glared at Dubhlainn for a moment longer before turning away. "Let's just find Gregor Cassel and kill him off; I don't want to be here any longer than you want to be here."

It was more than likely that Gregor would be in the town square, especially if he was a politician who wanted the love of his people. Clearing her throat, the mage began walking in the opposite direction they had run from, heading toward the city center. "Gregor's a politician, so he's either going to be in the town square, trying to gain the love of his followers, or at the town hall." This was her instinct telling her where to go, just as Death had told her to follow where her heart wanted to lead her. Well, she didn't have a heart on that matter, at least not one that was beating, so she had to follow the next best thing. She was not an assassin of any sort, but the job description said it could be quite a loud kill if she wanted it to be. So, that was her plan, to draw as much attention as possible in order to reclaim the name of Savage Skull.

Of all things though, what would Dubhlainn plan to do? Would he try to help her out or just sit on the sidelines and make sure she didn't die? She was really coming to despise this man beside her, when discovering he was mostly only helpful in getting her out of bad situations. For instance, she could have easily taken on those two squadron commanders if he hadn't been as quick as he had been. A frown appeared on her lips again and she looked around the city, the walls of buildings lining with the white tendrils of her aura. Stealth was not an option for her, unless she could learn how to kill people in her ash form, but she didn't. "You can do as you please, I guess, nothing's stopping you from doing otherwise; I just need to plan out how I'm going to get his head." Yes, she wanted Gregor Cassel's head on a pike and she would do anything in the world to make sure it happened.

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 1035   |  NOTES: counts as two

Marcy stopped in her tracks and turned back to look at Dubhlainn, eyeing him with a mysterious look in her reddened eyes. She stood there silently, no way of knowing what was going through her brain from an outside point of view. A gentle wind brushed through her hair, then she looked away from her partner in crime and hunched a little, as if she was holding something close to her chest. Control of her aura was not an option; it ate whatever it wanted to eat and she could not stop it from eating whatever it wanted. Teeth bit down onto a neatly groomed fingernail, picking at and chewing off the enamel as she thought over his suggestion. It was no different to her than when she had raped Stephen Goodwill's wife and the middle-aged Mrs. Cooper. Only, this time around it would be a man that she raped; a gender that she hadn't yet touched base on sensually.

"I. . . I can't suppress the aura, but I can still seduce him," she answered Dubhlainn, straightening her posture and glancing back at him.

He would start to decay in her presence, but she could slow down the time that it took to decay in order to seduce him. Images flashed through her head, ideas of possibilities, actions she could take and still get the results she wanted. Marcy stared at the Dullahan with wide eyes, then found herself turning away again and proceeding the way she was going. The man would do what he needed to do, force himself up on top of a roof if he needed to, or follow her to find Gregor. It wouldn't be that hard to find the politician in such a large kingdom; he'd simply be where the crowds tended to gather. She could already hear loud preaching in the distance, as if some man was trying to gain the attention of his disciples. This sermonizing was what she followed to the town square, swinging her hips a little as she walked through the streets.

"Oh my god, what's happening?!" someone called out as the aura of death spilling from Marceline's feet grabbed hold of them.

Walking by, she turned her head a little to look at the complaining person, raised a hand in the formation of a mock gun, and pulled the "trigger." A bullet of death energy flew out from the tip of her pointer finger and straight into the heart of the NPC citizen, killing them. "Silence, impudent being," she stated to the corpse on the ground, then continued meandering her way to the fountain at the center. It was the fountain that this propagating was coming from, the booming of a male's deep voice rising over the rush of water. More and more people began to notice the strangeness of Marceline as she continued on her little "journey" to Gregor. They'd look down to a limb of their body and notice the creeping decay along their skin and make small remarks. These remarks though, would be silenced in a matter of seconds as she made eye contact with them when they looked to her.

Each person, as she walked past them and made eye contact with them, would crumple to the ground in pain, holding their head, eyes rolled to the back of their head. Their mouths would be opened in a silent scream, unmoving, and resembling the weeping angels of Doctor Who. The soft clack of her heels and the preaching of Gregor Cassel were the only things that could be heard as silence fell over the crowd. Attention was brought to her, but she was smart enough to ignore it, coming to a stop at the base of the fountain. Marceline crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin, looking into the eyes of the politician on the fountain ledge. He was staring back down at her, his mouth slightly agape, like he had been stopped in the middle of the speech. This, of course, was not wrong, for the speech had come to a stop the moment she started to be noticed by everyone.

His eyes darted down to her assets and he closed his mouth, swallowing hard; looks like she had his full attention now. Marcy extended a slender hand out in front of her, expecting the man to help her up onto the ledge of the fountain. Their hands intertwined, and as they did, the skin on Gregor's hand began to peel away into white death particles. He winced from the pain, but took no notice of it as Marceline hopped up onto the ledge and stood next to him. She winked at him, then leaned closer to him, whispering something into his ear and smiling before stepping away. At her words, the man went beet-red in the face, a bit of sweat appearing on his forehead from what she had whispered to him. The man swallowed hard again and opened his mouth as if to say something, but only quickly shut it after a while.

Gregor noticed by now that parts of his limbs were starting to simply become bone, but he could effectively move them. Marceline and he connected eyes again and he began to back away from her, only to have her inch a bit closer. She grabbed hold of the tie around his neck and yanked him closer to her, face-to-face, eyes unmoving from each other. "Do you think you're going to get away from me so easily, mister?" Marcy inquired, moving in a little closer. Her lips brushed against his, but she never kissed him and merely pulled away, her facial expression hardening. "We have a few things for you to answer, would you mind answering them for us, Sweetie?" she added. "I have a thing or two I'd be willing to bargain for in return for a bit of information from you, what do you say?"

She leaned in again and ran her tongue along his jawline seductively while he spoke, stuttering, "I-I. . . I. . . I mean. . . w-what do you want to know?"

Marcy nipped at his ear. "Got anything on the Rune Knights, baby?"

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 751   |  NOTES: counts as two

A unison of footsteps rang into the silence, metallic-sounding and resonating, marching toward where Marceline and the politician were. Her eyes darted upward from where they rest on the man's half-rotten face, watching as ten of the Rune Knights began to surround her. They had their shields pressed in front of them and their swords unsheathed, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Marcy let a smile slither across her lips and she pulled away from the politician, though never once let him go of her grasp.

"Come on, boys, do you think I'm really gonna hurt him?" she inquired, stretching out her free arm to show she was playing innocent. Her grip tightened on the collar of Gregor's shirt though, rotting the cloth that was fasted together to create the garment. Unfortunately, her movement caused the guards to flinch, one making a move toward her, in which she simply shot a bullet-shaped orb at. This, she was not having to deal with; if they wanted to make a move toward her, then they better make it a unison raid. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fair for her to simply pick them off one by one, it'd be far too easy for her to do so, in fact.

The smirk on her face grew wider as the guard was forced backward from the impact of her magic striking him. His metal armor rusted and corroded where the bullet had struck, entering through the protective garb before dissipating. Not appeased by the turn out of her attack, she frowned and raked her gaze over the rest of the Rune Knights. Marceline then looked back to Gregor Cassel and yanked him closer to her, once again appearing almost as if she was going to kiss him. However, this time she pulled him in for it, capturing his face between her hands, rotting the remaining flesh from the bone. Chunks of his skin would fall in clumps to the ground before smoking and rotting into nothingness, leaving the muscle to follow suit. She held him trapped in her hands there for a moment, claws digging into the skin that now patched in areas where the decay had not yet reached.

Blood covered the tops of her hands where the flesh had scrapped against her and fell to the ground, coating her ashen skin with deeper darkness. One blood-drenched hand snaked its way down from Gregor's face to the center of his chest, where she dug her claws gingerly into his skin. He made a sound through their locked lips, one of pain, but pleasure, groaning as her fingers dug deeper and harder. The flesh began to rot away like it had from his face, but with a quick, sharp movement, her hand forced its way inside of him. Her fingers wrapped around his beating hear and squeezed it lightly, causing the man to cry out in pain and blood spill from his lips. Marceline wrenched his heart from his chest, breaking the bones that protected the vital organ and raising it into the air, still beating. Gregor Cassel's eyes widened and he gasped a final breath before dropping to the ground in a pool of his own flesh and blood.

Unfortunately, the spur of the moment had caused her to not get any information on the Rune Knights, which would likely piss Dubhlainn off, but oh well. In her hand, the once beating heart had now stopped and she let it fall from her blood-coated fingers to the ground with a smack.

"This kill!" she shouted at them them in manic manner, "I take this kill in the name of Death and so be it that you bow to His fee and beg for your mercy!"

The guards around her looked wide-eyed, almost hesitated, then surged forward at once to seize the dark mage. Marceline laughed loudly as they surrounded closer to her, only as they did so, her body crumbled to ash. A passing breeze swept her up and away from the crowd of now confused Rune Knights, bringing her toward Dubhlainn. She landed on the rooftop where he was and shifted back into her form, bending down to grab hold of his wrist and yank him to his feet.

"All right, I angered them enough, let's get the hell out of here," Marcy snapped, beginning to crumble away into ash again. "Let's play a little game of cat and mouse, eh?" For the sounds of marching footsteps rang one again into the air.

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 755   |  NOTES: counts as two

And that. . . is where her humanity began. . .

Marceline pulled her hand away from his wrist, leaving bloodstained streaks on his skin and his clothing respectively. Her eyes darted down to her hands, staring at them as if they were foreign objects simply attached to her body. The red matched the color of her eyes, though by now, much of the blood had begun to dry and crust on her. She bit her lip then looked back to Dubhlainn, her hands starting to shake as she realized who she was becoming. Decay was a part of the system of life; it was meant to be helpful, not harmful, it was meant to clean up the dead to make room for the living. . . Did he see her as a monster? Is that why it sounded like there was a hint of doubt in his voice about their survival? Maybe it wasn't doubt that rested on his voice, but rather, it was the want of her death etched into the sound waves.

She remembered the blood on her face and reached both of her hands up to her mouth, harshly rubbing the blood off. Unfortunately, it only smeared together more with the blood that had been on her hands and wrists still wet. Perhaps this was a sign that she would be stained for life with the blood of her victims, and a show to all of the world. Marcy was a monster, that was all there was to it. If Dubhlainn wanted to shoot her down, then he better do it now. If this continued as it was already, it was very likely that what humanity she had left in her would simply be washed away. Blood would stain blood and the world would run red wherever she walked, that is the image she foresaw of herself. Death was no longer a companion or a helper, Death was who she was and the voice in her head was simply her subconscious.

"Please. . ." she began, extending one of her hands toward him, as if saying she wanted the help that she needed. Her face was contorted in agony, misery. . . fear. . . of what would become of her if this was to continue any farther. The marching of feet could be heard nearing them, but Marceline did not budge from her place on the roof with Dubhlainn. If it came down to it, she would accept her fate with the Rune Knights and let them take her away for the murder of Gregor Cassel. However, the mission would only be successful if they got away or perhaps it would still be successful if only he got away? He was still a part of this job, she could be taken away while he made his grand escape and still find it a success, no? What difference would it make if she didn't make it out alive or if she didn't return home to Savage Skull because of her capture?

Marcy's eyes darted behind Dubhlainn, noticing the first of the Rune Knight guards coming around a corner. She bit her lip and gritted her teeth again, thinking long and hard about the choice she was going to make. Her eyes flicked back to her partner; he had far much better potential than she had, would it matter if she left with him?


She didn't want to leave Dubh though; he had been with her through this entire ordeal, he could get her out, too.


A deep breath in and she looked back to the marching Rune Knights, many of them now visible to the eye.


Her teeth ground against each other, her hand twitched the slightest amount toward Dubhlainn again, momentarily. She was hesitating far too much, but what choice did she have when she, too, valued her life as much as he valued his?


In that instant her voice uttered those words in her head, the undead woman snatched his wrist into her hand and they burst into a cloud of ash. The ash flowed from the rooftop to the alleyway below, darting through it like a maze as it tried to frantically escape. If she could put some distance between Rune Knights and them, they had a chance of making it back to Savage Skull.

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

TAGGED: ...   |   WORDS: 814   |  NOTES: counts as two

"Prinzessin, was bist du tun Außenseite von deine Schlafzimmer? Tatest nicht der Arzt sagen du dass dies Luft ist schlecht für du?" one of Marceline's servants inquired of her.

"Aber, Frau Agnise, ich wünsche spielen Außenseite mit Isaac," Marceline begged of her caretaker, pouting her bottom lip a little. Her tiny body was wracked with a coughing fit shortly after her response to the older woman, signaling to the lady that she was not fit for playing right now.

The servant tisked her charge before shooing the young girl toward her bedroom doors again, opening them for her once they reached them. "Du brauchst deine schlafen, jung Dame," she ordered, a frown on her face as she glanced down at Marceline. "Wir wollen du besser baldigst werden." A hand was placed upon the princess's back and ushered her inside of her room.

She was coughing far too much to say anything else to her lady-in-waiting, deciding that arguing with her will do no good. Marcy dashed over to her bed and climbed into it, pulling the covers back and wiggling underneath their warmth. Another cough rattled her body, her small fist moving up to her mouth to cover the air, blood splattering onto her hand. Smacking her lips together after the cough ended and running her tongue over her lips to remove the blood, she looked back up at Agnise. "Tut Bruder mich mit spielen versäumen?" Marcy questioned her servant, staring at her with her brown optics.

"Ich bin sicher er versäumt du," Agnise answered her, giving Marceline a smile as she tucked the blanket closer to her charge.

"Frau Agnise?" Marcy spoke the woman's name, still watching her with those pretty, deep brown eyes of hers.

"Ja, Prinzessin?" she responded.

"Ich liebe dich und du gehst dürfen," she stated, smiling back.

The servant gave her a kiss on the forehead before walking toward her door and exiting her room, leaving Marceline to herself.

---

"You're not stopping me from making my own decisions," she answered him after they had pitted in an alleyway for a minute. "I made this decision myself, we are going to get out of this capital with both of us still breathing the air. Understand me, Dubhlainn? Nothing is stopping me from making my own choices; this is what I wanted, this is what I'll get."

She was tired of doing things for Death when she wanted to things for herself. Sick of killing people when she simply wanted friends. However, she was just a servant to Death, told to do what he wanted without question, even if it meant killing her own guild-mate. "I want us both living and breathing. I don't care what you think or what choice you decide to make, this is mine." Marcy grabbed his wrist again and shifted into her ashen form with him, sending off down the alleyways again for their escape.

Another few meters and they'd land in another dark alley, where she changed back to her natural state with him. Her eyes narrowed as she heard him speak about giving orders to him, as if he expected her to tell him to fight. He was entirely wrong though; as much as she killed people, this was not something that she would allow on her part. Lives meant something, all lives did, and that's what she learned before she had died all those centuries ago.

"I won't let you fight them!" she ordered, staring up at Dubhlainn with apparent anger in her eyes at what he said. "We're going to get out of this alive, whether I have to drag you out of this place or die trying to help you get out." To her, her life meant very little to what others lives meant to her; she had lived long enough to say that she didn't need to live anymore. Everyone else had things to live for. Hell, she had nothing, she lived to kill and killed to live, that's what made her being.

Her red eyes glared at her guild-mate and she'd snatch his wrist up again and force them back into the cloud of ash. They'd travel another fifteen meters before they were shifted back into their natural state again, her eyeing him up.

"I am not your master, I will never be your master. You are a living being, someone who can make their own choices. If you think I'm going to order you to go in there and get yourself killed over some damned knights, you're fucking wrong! Your life is just as valuable as mine, whether you'd let yourself die for me or not, understand that about yourself." While she didn't see her life as anything worth living for, she simply had said that to make him believe what she wanted.

It couldn't be that far out where the edge of the city was, could it?

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

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He brought to her attention that it was possible what he wanted was his choice and his choice alone; would she defy what he wanted? She was a queen, she could easily order her subjects not to do what they most wanted to do, but as she had stated, she was not his master. Despite being the queen of the damned, the hellbent beauty, who simply wanted a life after death or nothing at all, she could not give him orders. If he wanted to defend her with his wholesome self, his entire life, with her own dependent on him, he would be allowed to do as such. Nothing would allow for her to be able to stop him in doing what he did best, and that was to protect members of Savage Skull. The one thing she did not want to see, however, was him being reckless in trying to keep the immortal mistress alive. "I am not alive, I am not dead; I do not breathe and neither live with a beating in my chest as you do, please don't do anything rash that could kill you."

She ground her teeth as she was grabbed by the shoulders and commanded to calm down over the distraught nature of this event. "I will accept what I deem to be the correct thing; your aid was enough to kill the politician, aid me no longer if you wish." Marceline glared up at Dubhlainn, ready to combat any words that he thought would be perfect to use against her. However, he did not say anything on the topic thereafter and instead led into explanation that the city would be on lock down. It was too late now, she knew it; escape was futile and she had wasted the time trying to fly their way out of the maze. What choice did she have now? Dubhlainn was truly her only hope and the longer they stood there, the higher chance of capture. Looking away from him, an expression of defeat seemingly crossed over her face, but was banished soon enough.

"I would typically not follow the orders of a peon, but seeing as I have no choice if I want to survive, then I might as well." Her eyes darted toward the sewer cover he pulled up and the rank smell of sewage rose up from the ground. If this was his plan, she was abhorred by it, though if she wanted to live, she would have to man up and get used to it. Marcy looked up at Dubhlainn momentarily again; however, a few seconds later and she was climbing down into the tunnels. It was wretched down there, the smell broiling in her nose and making her want to puke, but she held it back. She jumped down the remaining steps of the ladder and landed on the cement walkway of the smelly place. Moving out of the way, she'd wait for Dubhlainn to join her side and continue with what he had in mind for them.

"Do you think I am a monster?" she'd ask once he joined her, simply wanting the truth of what he thought of her.

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

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It did hurt when he agreed with her being a monster; however, she had wanted to know the truth and that was what it was. Deep down, she wanted him to lie to her, tell her that she wasn't a monster. . . that there was a way to fix her. She knew no such thing was possible, that she was destined to be a killer because Death came at His own accord. Dubhlainn was no liar either. He wouldn't have lied to her, she bet, if she had told him to lie to her face. Something about being a Savage Skull member held a close piece to his heart and she was curious to know what it was. If he, too, was a monster, then how could he find it in himself to love what he wanted to kill. That could go for her as well. What did she see in living things that caused her not to want to kill them, but forced to kill them in a sense?

Perhaps, it was that they had a life, a reason to live, and here, she had died centuries ago, never had a life, never had a reason to live. . . Why could she not die?

"I know what it is to be a monster in the eyes of those around you; you are hated, feared, and detested all at once," she responded. "It is true though, I really am a monster; I was born in Sin, long, long ago, when the giants there weren't so bad. I died just before the shift in hierarchy between humans and monsters, then given life after their reign of power was settled. Those wizards were stupid and irrational; they should have left Sin alone if they were planning to do something of that scale." As Dubhlainn had put it though, she was neither monster nor human, she was simply a beast of nature that should never have existed. She stopped talking about her homeland and proceeded to remain quiet while Dubh continued explaining his reasoning. He didn't need to though, she finally understand what she was and that only empowered her want to rid herself from the world.

She was not wanted here. She was a mistake.

Marceline watched as he led her down through the halls of the sewage, her nose wrinkled in disgust at the smell. This was why she didn't breathe on occasion, so she didn't have to smell the stench of unwanted things and waste. In this case, she did just that and halted her breathing altogether, knowing air was not necessary for her to live. They entered a small, almost confined room, and she'd stand there was he put his gun away with care; she was intrigued by this. Was that how all soldiers viewed their weapons? They cared for them as if they were their own children. Her eyebrows scrunched together in thought and she began to think back when her kingdom was still around and the soldiers were abundant. Dubhlainn said something in that moment and she was brought out of her reverie, staring at him with a blank expression.

He was wrong. She didn't see herself as something special, she saw herself as a burden.

However, she didn't have time to respond as he led her down the corridor that brought them to the ladder and exit. With him, she climbed up it and out into the open, onto the hill that overlooked the locked down city, Capital Crocus. "If you think I am something special, you or sorely mistaken, and as you have put it, I am a monster. . . and a burden to this world."

After her response to his former statement, he asked her about freedom. What kind of freedom did she want truly? She wanted freedom that Death brought to a person when their life's time had been expended and used up. It was past time for her to rest and she was getting restless. "I want what everyone else wants. . . the freedom Death brings us. But Dubhlainn. . . I'm tired and I'd like for us to go home." Her hand slunk out to grab hold of his and her other hand would dig around in a pouch and pull out ashes of bones and dust. Extending her palm out in front of her face, she'd blow the ashes into the air and they swirled around the duo.

I HAVE BECOME DEATH

the destroyer of worlds

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Dubhlainn was right; Marceline never had a fulfilled life back when she had been alive and running around her castle home with her siblings. At the age of ten or eleven, she couldn't recall anymore, she had fallen ill with oxygen poisoning and became bedridden. Doctors from the city couldn't figure out what was wrong with her, just that she was dying and nothing could be done about it. Her siblings started to avoid her, by words of their parents, saying that they did not want to contract the disease, so they should stay away. She couldn't have blamed them though, the disease was terrifying and it was horridly painful to suffer through to the end. The worst part of it all, was that she had to suffer alone, with her chambermaid was the only source of socialization. While she loved her servant dearly, it was boring to only talk with her, when she wanted to play and converse with her siblings.

"I am not crying," she stated coldly toward the dullahan, "treat me as you will, I do not care; I already know what I am to you. I will stab myself as many times as I want, as many times as it will take to feel again. I bet you don't know what it's like. . . to not feel emotions, that is. Besides, if I build a life now, it'll make no difference to me. It's not like I'm truly living, when I'm just a husk, full of souls, walking around. As abundant as these souls are, they do not let me feel the emotions that I once felt, it's terrible, really. My life cannot be completed, it will always be incomplete because of the illness that killed me all those centuries ago. The chambermaid. . . the damn chambermaid was the only company I had until the end; I didn't get to see my family once I fell too ill to move. They avoided me like the plague because they were damn princes and princesses, king and queen, with hope."

She bit her lip and let the ashes drop around them, falling to the ground like snowflakes from the darkened clouds.

Marcy was alone. Forever and always.

"I don't care if what they want is a fully lived life, they deserve to suffer like I did, be tormented by the idea of never having a fulfilled life."

Marceline scoffed.

"And what are you going to say to me? That the person standing in my way is myself? Ludicrous is what you're telling me. May they all suffer."

As he hijacked a passenger wagon and manned the horses, she hesitated at getting near the wooden structure. He knew of her magic, why was he forcing her on such a thing? She looked to him with a grouchy, near emotionless expression. At first, she did not budge. Marceline would not get on such a contraption if she knew it would just decay under her.

"You know, that thing will just fall apart when I get on it, and I don't care how taxing it is to carry another person with me. It's a lot faster than horse and buggy."

However, she got on it after a moment longer of hesitation.

"As much as it is tempting, I do not want him to do something that will take away my life in actuality; I do like living, in that I am able to see the world progress. It's long and boring, and I do tire easily, but seeing the results of growing civilizations, it's a wondrous sight to see. But give me his address, I will think on it and perhaps, a time will come where I will go to see him. Who knows."

She sat on the seat and placed her pale complexioned hands in her lap, staring at them and wondering to herself. . .

Would things be different if she had lived her life out through all these centuries?