Death has three children. All sharing his one custom power, and a unique gift of their own, Death had saved... their souls.
Now each one of them is in charge of a human who's Death date is coming and following Death's orders, must try to steer the human on the right path before they fall into their Father's hands
The steady beat of the monitor broke, starting as a short hiccup in the rhythm that soon flat lined.
The girl’s body was frozen in place, her soul slowly detaching from the feel of her finger tips, the smell of bleach. Slowly her vision warped, and though the monitor screeched defeat, she could hear it continue faintly. The man had his head down; long brown hair trimmed his forehead as remained hidden from the view of the hustling nurses to the girl’s limp body.
It was obviously mangled, even with the hospital’s attempt to patch her up. Though, she was blocked from the man’s view as the group of human’s huddled to save her. Death knew that the girl was strong. Strong for even holding onto the small thread of life after the accident, after her parent’s had so weakly given up, even as her body let her go, the soul desperately tugged to the limp bones and skin.
His lips pulled into a lop-sided smirk, and as the nurses soon dispersed, reaching for the edge of the covers and tucking them over her gray eyes, staring ahead hopelessly, Death made his chance to move forward. He never liked hospitals. All too similar, and visits too often for a place that was made to keep humans healthy.
He knelt silently by her side, and while he had dignified looks, he took it upon himself to remain kept away from human eyes, made the process much easier. He wrapped his fingers around the girl’s delicate hands lightly; they were cold, but as were Death’s. He tilted his head slightly, and grasped the soul, who in fact struggled to remain to her human senses.
If only she knew how much they’d be increased. Death was Death. He made his own rules.
Death returned for the body soon after. The girl was re-introduced to life with a clearer vision and power at her finger-tips that the lonesome Death had once only been able to control.
Death wasn’t finished defying his job.
_ _ _
Eva held the flower loosely between her small fingers, still never have to regained the full luxurious tan. Slowly the long red petals collapsed, darkening in her grasp till they turned to dry brown wrinkles. With that, she released the limp stem from her hands, a sigh falling from her thick, red lips. The sky had settled into a twisted gray, morphed with desperate attempts from the sun.
Eva glanced back towards the tall house, towering over the side of the grassy hill, covered in hundreds of flowers just like this one, a short bubble of laughter escaped her. Delicate flowers, just like delicate humans. One death of flower meant nothing to most people, and a death of a stranger affected barely few.
The smooth grass danced behind her, the wind tangling her dark brunette hair as it twisted along her back and overlapping her shoulders.
“Eva,” Arson said carefully, examining his sister with his steel blue eyes. Her head slowly raised, her chin tilting as she had seen her father do so many times.
“He wants to see you—us.” Arson quickly corrected, offering his hand to help Eva up, she shook her head, pushing herself in a long stride from the ground, her skirt blowing against the wind that was slowly uprising.
Eva followed Arson, her olive eyes timid as she watched the back of his head, focusing on the details of his black hair, always a mess, sticking in every which way, he loved it. Memorizing his current spikes kept her busy from any worrisome thoughts that could be approaching her, though as always, Eva was easily side-tracked by the house. Extending far beyond her, the tiles were an earth-toned green, blended with gray.
The ceilings were tall overhead, the walls stretching feet above them, leaving room for the silver chandelier to cast the room light. She was nearly stepping on Arson by now, her fingers twirling through her coarse hair. The large oval archway from the main room, widened into the living room, where Father sat beside Bryce on the long couch, a coco-brown and the arm-rests coated in a spiral of brass buttons.
Suddenly the details were easier to focus on, Eva ignoring the fidget in Bryce’s legs as he squirmed, just as anxious as Eva. Arson though seemed to be fighting off boredom. Bryce’s hair, so light it was nearly white was combed back, his dark heavyset brown eyes a large contrast reflected a sense of concern as Father finally decided to speak, clearing his throat.
“You’ll be sent to train humans. The three of you.”