Chapter Text
The God of Death is not the kindest god, it’s a fact sung by bards, told by gossiping housewives, by parents to their kids. It never really hit Kim Roksoo how scared everyone is of said god, because it’s just something everyone knew at the back of their minds. Life is kind but selfish, Death is mean but generous, stereotypical thinking that – while maybe untrue – Roksoo couldn’t really care less about. It’s not like he’s religious, moving into a village that worships Life, he does join some of their more public events, mainly for the free food, but by that alone he appreciates Life, but for Death? He said he has no opinions.
The stories are kind of interesting though. He’d thought people are a bit more stricter with their words and simply say Life is good, Death is bad, but it’s so much deeper than that. Life and Death in stories made them feel like demons and angels. With Life not being as beautiful as it seems, yet giving as much as he takes, a relationship strictly professional even to his humans. Death is not a god everyone would love to meet, but the people he blessed with had a ratio that exceeded more than Life did, and it’s generally known that he just likes humans, even those of Life’s. An opposite of each other, a two sided coin.
Or, well, the story varies, but since the village worships Life, they did make him sound just like a spoiled brat that could create mountains with a snap of his finger, while in other stories he’s made to be more violent than that. Promising eternal paradise that he considers as one, but not to humans, a contract bound that cannot be broken, an Oath of Life.
…well. What does Roksoo have to do with it?
A lot. Plenty, even.
Not to Life, no, no. Him and the God of Life has nothing more than the fact that he’s in a village that worships him, nothing further than that. But the God of Death?
The dark cloak he always wore slightly moved. The air had been much colder recently, and he couldn’t help the shiver from his wings. Black, crow-like wings that did more harm than good. Seriously, how does one have big wings in a society and expect people to react normally to that?
Death’s symbol, the blessing that Death gave him.
“...” Annoyed, he opened the front door to his quaint and isolated home. His hands are holding a basketful of vegetables, one he traded for with his crops. It gets boring eating potatoes after a while.
“You’re home early.” His bastard of an intruder says, leisuring on his couch while putting grapes to his mouth.
He’s the most beautiful being Roksoo had laid his eyes on, with blood red hair and gem-like eyes, one that sparks and brightly burns underneath the darker undertones. He’s so beautiful that the first words he uttered when he saw the god was that of a complement of his looks.
“You’re so… beautiful, the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” Even now, he couldn’t help the embarrassed flush, what possessed him to say it in such a revered tone? The breathy awe and everything?
Then said beautiful bastard stuck like a leech so now here they are, with him being Death’s saint.
“And you’re here late.” Roksoo notes, “It’s nearly winter, where have you been?”
“Aw, miss me?” Death, the god that existed at the birth of the universe’s existence, stretched like a cat, on his couch, “There’s war going next kingdom.”
Ah, Roksoo has heard.
“Madness is being lazy about having to do his job.” The red-haired god added, “I ended up bribing Blood so he would drag him to work. I don’t know why Festivities are with them, but they do stick together a lot, terribly like glue.” That, or the war is going to end in glory and he’s going to reap the people’s happiness when that happens.
“What did you bribe him with?” It’s interesting whenever Death spoke of his junior gods. While they’re not as ancient as Life or him, they’re still gods, and it’s still odd because Death spoke of them like misbehaving cats most of the time.
“Not partnering him up with Discord.”
Roksoo simply hums, not even knowing what’s up with Blood’s apparent hatred with Discord. He put the basket of vegetables on a table and went to search for a bowl. There’s some beans he’d like to snap today, better now than tomorrow. When else will he be so productive? He couldn’t sleep with Death around anyways, might as well.
“Aish, they need to stop being in disagreement all the time, it’s unfair because Discord thrives off that.” Death yawns, “It’s like asking them to fight, Blood would be elated.”
Snap! Roksoo had begun working. He crouched down on the wooden floors with two bowls put down and a small hill of green beans.
A strand of red hair tickled his cheek, “What are you doing?”
“Snapping green beans.”
“Sounds boring.”
“We all need a bit of boring activity here and there, Death.”
The god pouts at him, “Don’t remind me of the souls I’d left in the limbo.”
“I didn’t even say anything about that.”
The sound of snapping beans filled the air for a moment.
“Why do you keep doing that?” Death’s voice is a bit farther away. Maybe he’s off searching for more grapes in the kitchen. He knew that they’re there for him anyway, Roksoo couldn’t care less about not eating grapes.
“Doing what?” Snapping green beans?
“Call me Death.”
Roksoo looked back from his shoulder at the slender figure roaming in his kitchen, it’s a view worth getting home to. Instead, he turns back to the green beans in his hands, “That’s your name, is it not?”
“That’s my title, that’s different!”
“...” Well now this is plain embarrassing.
“I don’t…” Snap, snap, snap, “I don’t know your name.”
Silence.
Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap.
A sharp chin dug itself on his head, causing him to look down at the sudden weight. More green beans.
“Really?” Death sounds so surprised, like he never would’ve thought after the centuries they’ve spent together his saint hadn’t yet known.
“It’s not like it’s out to the public or anything.” His ears are warming, Roksoo could feel it. Lithe fingers – why is everything about him so painfully beautiful? – tap at the shell of his ear, fiddling with it in curiosity. Roksoo stopped snapping the damn beans, he’s too red to focus.
“Rea~ly?” His voice is too, a voice so ethereally beautiful, echoing in his head like a siren’s call.
Putting his hands on Roksoo’s shoulder, the god pushes forward to face him upside down, “Call me by my name then. I’m Cale.”
Mesmerized, Roksoo’s pupils dilated, causing Death– Cale, to bite back a smile. He hums, “Cale.” He repeats.
“Yes?”
“Cale.”
The god hums in amusement.
“You’re beautiful.” Roksoo breathes out. Eyes tracing the image of his god again and again, burning it into his cornea, sealing it to his mind. He could picture Cale with his eyes shut, but the real thing always leaves me breathless, again and again. Beautiful. Cale is beautiful. A type of beauty that made him forget he’s dead, struck speechless by the pulchritudinous of Death.
Cale’s lips quirked up, pressing itself to his forehead and leaving him feeling floaty, “Go back to your green beans. I’m off to work.”
“Yes.” He says, dazed by the kiss, “Come back soon.”
“Before you know it.”
And with it, he disappears like he’s never been there.
They missed a thing.
Love, Death feels like love. Like the cradle of a loved one, the kiss of a beloved person, the smile of someone who should stay happy. Love.
Roksoo returns back to snapping green beans, thinking about gods with red hair and brown eyes with stupid beautiful features and an awful tendency to steal grapes.