Death showed up on an Archangel’s doorstep one fateful day in the fall. But she wasn’t afraid. She knew he was there before he even knocked. Thanatos waited for her to answer the door. He was nervous – something unusual for a being of his substance. Ariel was reluctant to see him. She hadn’t seen her brother in so long – and there was a reason for that. A sudden thought popped into her mind. No…It couldn’t be. It had only been a couple decades, right? Not even close to a century. “Emilia, please! I know you’re there,” Nat called out, exasperated. He sounded worried. The door creaked open. Ariel was concerned, but she hid it under an expression of annoyance. The Grim Reaper was a murder. Angels couldn’t have relations with killers, other than to reform them. And Death wasn’t going to change anytime soon. “Don’t call me that, Thanatos. I’m not human anymore. I’m Ariel now,” she grit out. What the angel really wanted to say – to scream – was, “How much time? How much time left?” Grim Reapers had 100 years of service to fulfill. 100 years of ferrying souls across the River Styx, 100 years of watching people die, and only 100 years to live after they were chosen by the previous Reaper. There was only one reason he would come to contact her. If his 100 years were up. Ariel hoped, with all her being, that it wasn’t true. She couldn’t possibly be punished for wishing well on someone. “Emi-Ariel.” He paused “I only have about 15 minutes.” For a minute her facade dropped. 15 minutes. He would be gone in less than 15 minutes. Quickly, she regained her composure. She was a saint. He was practically a serial killer. Ariel couldn’t feel sympathy for him. “That,” The angel swallowed – hardly able to force out the words, “is too bad. My condolences.” He laughed darkly. Despite the circumstances, she took in the image. Nat was smiling. It didn’t matter what he was smiling about. She wanted to remember him in the best way possible. Eyes gleaming, a chuckle dancing on his lips. Finding humor in every situation. It was what had made him the black sheep of their family. It was what she loved most about him. Even though he hadn’t seen her in so long, he knew his sister well. “Em, I know you’re not serious.” “I don’t know what you mean, Thanatos,” she answerd calmly. This time she was having a hard time keeping herself together. A tear slid down her cheek as a sob threatened to escape her throat. She didn’t even care that he said Em. If anything, it comforted her. It was enough to make her freeze in fear. Did it taint her purity to cry for the fall of a Reaper? He took a small step back when she called him Thanatos. Nat hated that Death was an Evil. He wouldn’t do his job if he had a choice. Every time he heard his Reaper name, it reminded him of its connotation. “You don’t mean that. I’m not – You don’t hate me, Em.” He staggered back, as if knives were cutting into him. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Emilia felt awful for treating her younger brother like this. But she had to. She had to. Right? “I–” Before she could even answer, Nat’s body seized up. His whole frame straightened, as if he was being pulled up by a string. He fell down, his heart speeding up. It was happening. She rushed to her brother, finally letting loose the cries that she’d been holding back. “No, no, no. That wasn’t 15 minutes. That wasn’t. They cheated. They’re taking you early!” she yelled. A jogger gave her a weird look, but kept going. It was god magic. The runner wouldn’t even remember what happened by the time he rounded the corner. He rested his hand on Ariel’s forearm, trying to console her. But she couldn’t be soothed. Angels are meant to help those who are grieving. But what happens when an Angel has a loss? They’re conflicted between their eternal peace and the shreds of mortality that still linger. And that makes their misery much more horrible. “I-I-I can’t. Please. You can’t leave me. I’m so so sorry. I don’t – I don’t know what to do. Please, Gabriel,” Emilia begged. His lips curled the slightest bit into a smile. “What? What are you laughing at?” She let out the smallest of laughs between her sobs. “You called me Gabriel,” he whispered. His eyes closed. The Grim Reaper, who died as Gabriel Ryan Verlice, left that world with something in his heart. It was hope. For the first time in years, he had hope that his sister did not see him as a killer any longer – that she didn’t see him as a monster.
When Gabriel’s soul rose to Purgatory, the deities didn’t know what to do with him. The Devil didn’t think he belonged in Hell. God didn’t think he belonged in Heaven. But both of them agreed that he was a force of nature. Whether that force was evil or not, neither could decide. When Archangel Ariel learned of her brother's judgement she lived with the same thing that Gabriel died with. Hope. Hope that maybe, her brother could be at peace. And she questioned if her brother was a monster. Maybe it something nobody could answer. OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo This was so much fun to write! I think the Grim Reaper is such a cool topic, and y'know, like writers do, I went "So the Grim Reaper is cool and stuff. But what if he died." So yep. This is it. Sort of badly written. It goes too fast. WARNING: I AM NOT A THEOLOGIST OR AN EXPERT IN MYTHOLOGY, so don't say anything if I'm inaccurate. I’m probably going to redo this.
