Love of Nature

The morning weather was a bit cooler than it had been in recent days. It was a reflection of how the summer was nearing its end, soon to give way into autumn. It made sense then that the mixed blood had been requested to make a large set of glasses, platters, plates, and things. He knew it was more than likely for someones fancy gathering, most people don't want to custom order autumn themed silverware made of near indestructible glass. This was how he ended up carrying crates to a merchant ship early in the morning. It was late in the morning by the time he finished up. At that point William had already awoken, eaten breakfast, washed up, dressed, then walked out to find his parental figure. The child was not left alone in all this, wind had been watching and helping the child in all his little events. Haraka would have picked fire as the temporary sitter, but her and water don't mesh well. Lightening and water don't really go together either when it comes to baths. This was how the small wide eyed innocent ended up trotting along side the spirit. Winds true nature would always leak to the surface, even while in a harmless form. Pale chalk white skin, a form that didn't really seem to need to touch it's feet against the ground with how light their movements were. He was one of multiple breaths of death, each one being just as void of sex and gender as the other. There would always be the same amount of breaths, so another would always be born if one had to be killed. They were spirits that were akin to raw pieces of death, as such needed to live by unspoken rules.

Not following these rules could lead to corruption. Those were were tainted became demons. Where the holy ones helped the souls of those who had already passed on sleep more sound and deep, the corrupted forced the souls to awake and inhabit their bodies. When a breath was a demon, it could corrupt others nearby. Most of the rules they lived by was mainly to keep them separate from the lives of the living so as to not let their hearts become attached. When one becomes attached to a living person, it was easier to fall into rage or anger. Those emotions could eek into violence. It was the act of being violent without a summoners magic within them that was the corrupting force. It didn't matter if the action did or didn't kill, only that there was purposeful intent and want to do harm. It wasn't that they couldn't slap someone, only that whatever they do can't be with the want or intent to do harm. It was the want and intent to do harm that acted as a corrupting force. Wind hadn't actually broken any of the unspoken rules, but he had bent a few of them to their limits. The spirit would be lying if he tried to say that he wasn't attacked to Haraka. William or other living? Not so much, not really. But Haraka? Well that was where some of those rules had been bent. The childs adoptive father had been winds summoner, but more than that. That man had been as like a soul brother to him, they had made vows of brotherhood, bonded as brothers, and had been as close as one could be with anyone.

The youth with the cracked and frail soul became precious because he didn't cry. Young and old, sick and healthy, all babies were typically terrified when his presence approached. The black haired person was the first and only time Wind had ever held such a fresh life without seeing any fear at the beginning. It was his first time experiencing a curious infant, and since then he has wanted to protect that young and at times stupid life. A person who was far too quick to point at their own person as the cause of any and all issues in their own life and the one who must find a solution. Nobody is an island, but he knew where that sort of attitude came from. He could and would not forgive those who should have shown affection but only taught fear. But in any case, Haraka fell under being family, dear family. This was the only reason that wind hadn't been punished for giving his blood to a living person not of death. There would be lasting consequences, because that soul would never fully heal. No matter how much he improves, it will always be a soul that had a twin but was forcefully cut apart by outside forces. Wind was not a historian, so he knew only what the damage told. The creature didn't know what past life it was from, only that it was clear a past life existed. In any case this breath of death was the morning breath, his true form having dragonfly wings. This wasn't something he was showing at this moment, nor the beautiful clothes it came with. Right now he was small, looked child like, bare footed, clothes in rags, pale white skin, and eyes fully coated in a pure pitch black.

William held onto one of Winds hands, both making their way towards a certain mixed blood who had just finished his own work. Deep sapphire blue eyes looked towards them, lips curving into a smile. Ideas were swimming in the mind of Omaras. "Good morning!" Hands reached out, the red headed child letting go of the spirit to run over. It wasn't really any effort to scoop the tiny one up and put them on one of his shoulders. "Why don't we all go for a nature hike today? I haven't gone on one for a long time." He also knew the tot was likely still upset at him for not taking the clam on every deadly job or area the mixed blood got. He could feel a small hand tug quietly at his shirt, the sign of a quiet yes. "Alright then, let's go. It would be fun if more people came along, but everyone else is probably busy." It would be nice.

When theday seems to be uneventful, there comes the oddities. Not too far from the two Living carrying on with their day, a rift opened up right in front of them, on the other side, a world of purples and dark blue, in perpetual night. A figure walked out from the void at a slow yet confident pace, the warp behind him closin up and poofing away on a puff of black smoke.

With albino white skin and unmatching eyes, one light lavender and the other silver, on a blonde set of hair the figure approached. The black smoke, devoid of light, slowly trailed behind him until it started wrapping around his body. From the simple dark half-bodysuit, the black smoke condensed into an exotic, oriental styled armor. The figure's feet were clad in open toed, tabi style boots while a set of baggy pants most resembling traditional "ninja" gear covered the figure's thigs. Waist up, the young figure's body was promptly covered by something akin to a fish net, connected to actual armor for chest and shoulders. All of it was a greish blue in color with deep red accents and white highlights. All of it looked natural, the finest materials. Leather or silk. All of it hand crafted from the looks of it, with the same care a tailor would have for royal wear.

The figure raised his hand, the last trails of smoke forming into a boney-black feathered hilt around it as the Reaper grasped what would soon become a nodachi styled sword, with a long sharp blade made of a material akin to obsidian. The sharp point however was not pointed towards the Living no, it was slowly leveraged above their shoulders pointing at something that should be hidden, but to someone like Raviel was quite visible.

The mysterious figure waved his blade from one shoulder to the next in a slow arc above the Livings' head. The weapon then was lowered, slowly, until the point was barely above ground. While the presence of the Bringer of Death could be cleary recognised within the blonde albino, there was no intent on killing. No intent on fighting. If anything, the youth seemed somewhat surprised and curious, even though his features from his pose to his expression remained mostly neutral.

"Are you the one responsible for these many Souls of the Dead?" The admittedly young looking figure, no older than 14 years of age by his looks, asked in a calm and polite manner. "Are you the cause of their distress, o acquaintance mine?" He added, his gaze trailing on the living but for a moment before returning to the many spirits around them. Just how it came, the sword dissipated into black smoke.

It was strange to not feel threatened by a weapon. It had been moved very close to the mixed bloods person, but the person didn't have any expression or feel of someone interested in attack. The demonic clam was still a small life that was easily scared, so changed forms before hiding under the collar of Harakas shirt. The doctor didn't like to make assumptions, thoughts on strangers were best kept silent until proven to be so. Still, he was a parent to William now, right? One of the things a parent should do is make sure their child isn't scared. "It's okay William, he's not going to hurt anyone here." It was easy to tell why there might be a misunderstanding if someone could actually see the souls that sounded the pale ice blue skinned person. Only some of the ghosts were soldiers, there were children and non combatants like doctors and merchants. Death didn't pick and choose who dies, though of course there was only one member of his royal family among the ghosts. The young looking man hadn't taken time to talk to the ghosts that were so attached to him, not once since seeing them for the first time. The tiny clam didn't come from it's hiding spot, so his words must have failed in being comforting enough. Wind was the only one of the three who didn't seem phased by everything going on. The spirit was also likely the only one who had an idea who it was, but the fae like being had no interest in gabbing all details out of everything he knew. What would be the point in that? It would be so boring, very pointless. But there were a few things he could do and say right now that would have some point.

A part from one of his small hands landed on the elder living Omaras. It was a signal he knew the mixed blood would understand, it meant he was going to talk. Be it he listened or not depended on the situation. Deep blue sapphire eyes looked from the stranger, down to the green haired genderless figure before letting out a sigh. As psycho as the creature could be at times, Haraka did trust them most of the time. This pleased wind, though where his pure black eyes were looking could be anyones guess. "Haraka Omaras is my child, I broke no rules. My child heard the whispers of death before birth, it made him into a medium. I gave him blood so that he would survive a massacre, he now has two functional hearts. all the dead were drawn to him. They refuse to move on until they know he will be alright. I am a well behaved breath of death. I have a flesh form from the bond with my child, everyone can see me now. Of course I would never use it to show my mask." Wind would defend himself to anyone of any rank or breed if he felt a hint of a suggestion that he might have done wrong or broke rules. Pushing the boundaries of some rules don't look good for him, he knew that, but there was not a sign of regret or apology for it. The whispers of death wasn't something most living heard, those who do are among the gravely ill, or those who have a connection to a spirit of death. This meant it only gave away that the fleshy living person had been gravely ill during early times, but nothing after since he has a bond with such a spirit.

The young looking adult was slightly surprised by the outburst, but not by much. It had just been awhile since hearing that sort of outburst from the parental figure. Was it a bad sign that this wasn't the first time such an event happened? Eyes looked back towards the stranger. What should he say? "Sorry about Wind, he gets like that every time he thinks someones questioning his purity." This was because the worst fate to suffer in winds eyes was to become corrupted. The way he worded it to the stranger sounded bad, but he was sure wind wouldn't mind the random misunderstandings of humanity. "I actually ignore the ghosts since there's nothing I can do to help them. Listening to the dead with even the best of intentions can be dangerous for the living, so that's another reason." It felt a bit cold to say those things about the dead, but it was true. Even nice ghosts who only want to help could accidentally lead someone to their demise. He just wasn't built to handle those sort of things. But he didn't know the pale blond was a reaper, thus had no idea that this was something the person would probably already know. For a normal live person this wasn't really common information. "As Wind said, I'm Haraka Omaras. It's not often I meet strangers who can see ghosts? The again, I doubt all that can see them would tell me outright.. Anyway, we were going to go take a nature hike before you arrive. Would you like to come with us?"

Raviel circled the two slowly, with measured yet inaudible steps. He observed mostly the spirits and heard their call. He returned to his previous postition before introductions were in order. Settling his arms to the side he bowed at the Living as a show of respect.

"A pleasure of making your acquaintance, oh friend mine." Raviel replied mid bow, standing back up soon after to continue with his introduction. "My name is Raviel, Prince of the Void and Reaper of Souls."

This Living's condition was most peculiar. Raviel was intrigued by the possibilities of learning more about a soul's connection to others of its kind still bound to the World of the Living. It was rather unique to see so many souls bound to a single entity. He did not fully understand the dynamic even when one of the spirits decided to address him directly. Still, gathering those many unwilling souls would be a hassle. A hassle he did not want to bother with at the moment, considering he would probably cause distress to the two Living there.

"I do not...usually meddle in Living's affairs. It is my duty only to gather Lost Souls and ." He stated, calm, this time looking at the smaller Living. "However, if you both will have me, I guess I could...well...delay my presence with you."

These two were really weird. Not only for the spirit deal, but for their ease around newcomers. Raviel had to admit being that naive or open with new acquaintances was not something he was used to be. Still, to respect their politeness or any possible custom that dictated their hospitality he would humor their request and follow them for a while. And so the deathless took his place besides the two living, walking with them at a disinvoluted pace, his boots still making little to no sound as he pushed forward. From time to time he would fiddle with his gloves or his chestplate. In general the young prince was kinda out of his own element. Was he supposed to do something. Was he supposed to entertain the Living with idle prattle?

'Prince of the void and reaper souls was certainly not something Omaras had expected to hear that day. Should he bow?! This wasn't really expected, but it did explain the bit of extra information in winds rant than he usually included. Even after all these years of knowing the spirit so well, there was so much unknown. Wind wasn't bowing or kneeling, the old spirit didn't even look at least a little shocked. Did that mean he shouldn't either, or was the spirit just being weird? This just felt like a higher rank of reaper than the doctor was used to meeting. Getting bowed to felt a bit awkward as well. "..Uh, That certainly explains why you were protective of the dead here. Thank you for looking out for them, I'm sorry for getting in the way of that." The person was royalty and a reaper, but still a person. The blond meant well. A certain mint themed spirit shook his head a bit, not really feeling all that agreeable with the apology.

"It makes no sense for you to apologize for something you have no control over. Mediums are all typically followed and entangled by spirits." It was a habit wind didn't like in his child. There was a tendency to take good deeds or things out of their control and twist it as the youth being deserving of negative consequences. But of course wind didn't introduce himself because his kind typically didn't have names. Anything that someone wanted to call the mint colored spirit was fine by him. She? Them? Him? Who cares. Wind? Windigo? Poof the gayfling Dolphin? It doesn't matter. Haraka stopped looking at Haraka, gibing a bit of a sigh. Why did he feel like the odd one out between the two? He gave a smile to Raviel before starting to walk. "Thank you for joining us for the hike. I think it's a nice way to enjoy the splendors of nature. Have you been on one before? Just... a walk to a flora and fauna filled area to enjoy seeing it?"

Raviel's sword whas whipped to the floor, twirled and sheathed by his back, where it vanished into smoke that got absorbed inside his lavish grey-blue armor. He looked at Haraka, trying to ignore the souls floating around them as they walked.

"I have. Not in this world, but in the Void. The scenery there is a little different from the World of the Living. It would surely...feel exotic to someone like you. The Royal Palace has no shortage of lush ambients one can relax in."

Even though Raviel's tabi boots were padded to ensure the prince carried himself around in a confortable footwear, it wasn't the reason the young Reaper did not make even the slightest of sounds as he walked together with the two Living. He kept quiet and to himself, not really seeming to be one for idle prattle. From time to time, he would turn his gaze upwards at the various souls floating about, especially if they got a little too close for the Prince's comfort.

"Is this, something the Living do on the regular? A tradition of sorts?" He asked out of the blue, after a good while of just silence and inward meditation. He did not really want to bother the living too much, but his curiosity finally had the better of him. He wanted to know. The world of the living was much diverse and quirky compared to the void. The Living themselves seemed to each be unique. Each of them had their own story and quirk about them. It was a sea of things Raviel enjoyed learning about. As such, any occasion was a good one to inquire and indvestigate and ask and ascertain. So much to take in, so little time. Well, he was a Deathless, so he would probably not really die as the Living experienced it. In that regard, he had all the time in the world to assimilate as much as knowledge of that world as he pleased.

William changed back to his humanoid form after the weapon was put away, but the little boy was still on his parental figure, sitting himself on the parental figures left shoulder. The child quietly stared at the blond stranger, little hands keeping on their parental figure. Haraka was just glad that things seemed to smooth over a bit. Everything started off a little strange, this was the first time when it felt similar to a more normal looking and younger wind. He was sure they were both very different people, it just wasn't a culture he knew much about outside of a certain spirits teachings. Those teachings though? He wasn't really sure if any of it had to do with the beings own culture or beliefs. Did shinigami have similar beliefs to winds kind? Then again, what was those spirits beliefs? It was something the older Omaras never thought about before. Wind Had expressed a disinterested in culture, religions, different belief systems, genders, and even names. A sexless spirit part of a small group of sexless spirits never meant to be seen or interacted with by the living. They were only noticeable when ones corrupted. When that corruption happens though, its hoped that one is killed quickly. He had no idea what the fixed number of them were, only that there was one. When one dies, it's essence becomes recycled, becoming a new one. Wind didn't even typically find interest in holding onto most memories, that being a reason why the spirit had admitted to him before that they had no idea of their own age, nor cared. Each breath of death type of wind spirit was a different color and person, but it's apparently not typical for them to love deeply.

When one feels strong of a certain way about someone enough, the feelings leak to the others. Each one is both a unique individual and a part of a whole. His was a spirit with a fickle heart with very few things to anchor it down outside of their 'duties and 'rules'. Maybe there was an origin of that job and the rules that wind follows? The mixed blood had always assumed 'typically never seen by the living' meant they where creatures that were always alone. Shinigami dealt with the dead too though, didn't they? Did they come from the same place? Would it be okay to ask Raviel? 'No, it would be rude to ask him anything like that when you just met him.' He internally chided himself before letting out a sigh. "What kind of nature is in the void?" That was a safe thing to ask, right? He was mostly sure. The half demon started to walk, trying his best to feel more confident about this. Was hiking something the living did on a regular? "It depends on the living. Their age, the culture they were born in, grew up in or around. In my... fathers culture it was a tradition to teach your children about the different plants, how to track, forage, and fight. My mother was very against my learning combat though, so we just did the other things. The hikes with him helped me better understand and appreciate nature. Those memories with him are as precious of the ones I have with my mother." Haraka couldn't say anything less than father when wind was walking in a physical form, otherwise 'that look' would be a lot more obvious.

The pale ice blue skinned person really didn't want to get scolded like a little kid in front of anyone. The pause had earned a breif glance from the light mint green small figure, but nothing more at this moment. Thinking of warm memories brought a more calm smile to his face, as opposed to the one that had been laced with a little anxiousness before. "How many kinds of forests have you walked into?"

Raviel hummed, strolling around with the living, still somewhat mindful of the spirits. It seemed the two that were accompanying him were curious about the Void.

"How are things in the Void? Well...hm..." He hummed, thinking how to articulate his thoughts into understandable words for them to hear. This would be so much easier if could simply mindspeak as he was used to.

"The Void, all things considered, is not really that much different from the World of the Living when it comes to landscapes and places. Just like any other plane of existance that's in near contact with the place where living souls fulfill their calling, the Feywild and the Shadowfell, the void is basically a mirror image of the outside world you may know and be very familiar with."

A pause, Raviel stopped walking and kneeled down to adjust his open toe boots before resuming his explanation.

"Of course, flora and fauna are different. You see...the Void is perpetually showded in eternal dusk. There is no sunrise nor sunset. While sunlight does not damage entities like me as you can very well see, we still get some mild nuisance from it. My complexion is, afterall, quite paler than even the most pale of Living around here."

He paused to see if his conversation partner had questions about what he had just revealed, before going into detail on other things. Better quench doubts right away than trail off and risk leaving them unanswered.

Wind frowned briefly at Raviels answer. He didn't like that they answered his son, nor that Haraka had asked them anything. It wasn't a rule to not tell people certain information, that wasn't the issue. The spirit was simply childishly jealous, but nobody ever said ancient and wise creatures couldn't have terrible habits. Having a hard time caring about something meant when someone was precious, it could be very hard to contain the feelings they might not have normally experienced. "Don't answer any of my sons questions about there, hes my son." The spirit said in a pout, as if that sort of reasoning made any sense.

Haraka rolled his eyes a bit, continuing to walk along. It was nice to slowly ease from the docks, each step bringing them that much closer to the forest. William smiled a bit, the little child starting to relax a little more. Now the question was, should he explain the spirits silly antics, or ignore it? It felt silly to the older Omaras, but he also knew there might be something in that he's missing that Raviel might get. That was strange to think about, maybe it was just his imagination. Could anyone actually see the sense in Winds actions? Maybe the mixed blood was just over thinking things. The closest to understanding the strange being was him, right? And even he didn't fully comprehend wind. "Sorry, Wind can be pretty childish. I promise he has a lot of amazing wisdom though, just typically uses it in not so direct ways that requires a lot more patience than I can comprehend having." But not being direct was part of the spirits charm. The west fiore trading company member was still being dismissive, but at least knew that the green haired being wasn't just some childish eternal being with death as its blood.

The void sounded less mystical than the doctor had imagined. At the same time? "It doesn't sound the same at all. The cycles of day and night greatly affect nature here, just as the seasons or lack of it can too. I would love to see the differences one day face to face. Do you ever track an animal quietly to watch it hunt, or watch it hide? To watch them rest or work, to see the brief chances in the lives within the woods. It's so amazing how their differences effect each other as well as their parts in the cycles they live in. " The temporary nature of everything was in part the worlds beauty to him. It was also what made it so hard to feel connected to it sometimes. That's why he wanted to one day recover enough to age so he could be part of that breathtaking cycle. "Also, how normal your skin tone is would depend on the area or time your in. In my homeland it was common to see people even paler than you, people with my complexion, and others with darker tones. But it's gone, so it's unique variations are too." Sometimes cycles end with different ages, or drastically change.

"Do you have a favorite season, or weather?"