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Aqua7KH

'Till Death do us Part (1x1 with Stardustblade)

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Miguel's frown instantly turned right upside down when Megara decided to keep the frogs at least temporarily. At least he could play with them some more later.

"Yay! Gracias Mami Mega!" Miguel cheered, watching the frogs go inside the box. He giggled when Megara kissed him and watched her leave.

 

Meanwhile Jorge looked down into the couch. He feared of what would happen for the next few days. Years, even. The village wasn't going to forget this. Ever. It could even get to the point where they might desire blood.

"Sí..." Jorge muttered, unsurely. "Adios..."

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Undertaker did his work, washing up the bodies, getting them redressed, and settled down inside two wooden coffins that were lowered into their holes, which would be filled up after the ceremony and everyone had bid their farewells. The scenery was rather glum, as expected. Undertaker was holding the widow, helping her to stand up and keeping her from jumping into one of the dug up graves. People were around, all wearing black as they looked at the graves with utter sadness. The size of Ani’s casket was too much to bear. He was only a child and already going six feet under. Death and Megara arrived just in time, Death helping the old pastor from the church to reach the top of the hill. “Hm…estoy bien, Muerte. Me puedo mantener. No creo que me caiga.” The pastor assured, Death carefully letting go. He was so old it wouldn’t be a surprise if he also kicked the bucket sooner or later. Regardless, the pastor frowned down at the scene, and cleared his throat to speak up. “We are gathered here today to bid farewell to two wonderful people, who did not deserve the faith that has fallen upon them. By whatever nature that this has come to be, we pray that they are at peace in somewhere much better than here. A place where they can be at peace for eternity, and never have to worry about the things that they did in life. For we will always remember them, and hope that they are able to know as such, that we love them and miss them…” The pastor spoke, everything as silent and as eerie as ever, despite a few sobs and cries from those attending. “If there is anything anyone would like to say, please speak now.”

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Many of the villagers looked onto the casket, feeling the upmost grief and sympathy for the widow. The women shed tears, while the men stared at the casket that was way too small. They all stood silent. Once the pastor said to speak however, one man stepped forward.

"Hell yeah I have something to say!" One man growled, while the rest stood silent. "How are you all so ignorant to see this could have been avoided? That bruja's son- the bastard should've been killed! We should've burned that baby alive as soon as we found out he existed! It should be him in that little coffin! Not el niño!"

Some people nodded their heads in agreement, while others just rolled their eyes and shook their head in disappointment. Even if his words were true, why speak of this now? The man was disrespecting a funeral.

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For a moment Death felt compelled to say a thing or two to the so called man that dared to bring up the whole witchcraft accusation at the funeral. If anything he was tempted to just push him in and bury him along with them, but he knew that the dead didn’t deserve to be buried with such trash. Besides, it would cause chaos, and unnecessary tensions within a ceremony that is meant to be respected. The father cleared his throat. “As much as these accusations are discussed, this is no time to make it I believe…” The father went on. Megara spoke up. “As the father said, this is no time to make radical accusations. We are at the most dire of ceremonies, and you have the never to even speak of taking the life of a child, when we have already lost two precious lives today?” Megara snapped, her tongue as sharp as a knife, an attitude that made up for her despise of dirt and anything creepy and crawly. The type of person who wasn’t afraid to throw a punch and fight someone bigger than her. Especially if it meant to defend a child such as Miguel.

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The man didn't stop. Actually, he decided to go even further.

"Oh yeah?!" He asked Megara, raising his voice. "Why don't you come over to my face and say it again puta?!" Those words caused the widow to cry aloud like she was doing before. A few of the onlookers grabbed the man and began to take him away before Megara could attempt to claw the man's eyes out.

"Are you crazy?!" One onlooker whispered sharply to the man. "That woman will rip your cojones off alive and feed it to the dogs if you continue! You're lucky she hasn't done so already!"

Another shook his head. "This man es muy cracy..."

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Undertaker held the crying widow close, holding her from collapsing where she stood. Usually by this point Megara would’ve tackled the man down and ripped him to pieces with her bare hands, not stopping until the man was scarred for life. However she was beaten to it by her husband, who lifted the man up by the neck of his shirt with a single hand, glaring him down almost like a cat to a mouse. Now, Death wasn’t the violent type, as scary as he looked being five feet and eleven inches tall and all. But he wasn’t going to let anyone insult his wife either. “…say another word about my wife again, and I will not hesitate to let her skin you alive.” Death whispered, and just as quickly, he dropped the man, slowly returning to his spot next to his wife. “I wish to say something.” Death inquired. “Go ahead.” The father asked. Death breathed, calming himself down as he lowered his head in a form of respect. If no one was going to say anything useful, then he’d be the one to at least bring some closure. “We lost two wonderful people. A beloved husband and father, and a wonderful son and friend. The circumstances of their deaths are something we all wish to truly know, but that they have both taken to the grave. However let us not remember them how they died, but how they live. As you know it is tradition to honor and remember the dead in their happiest of moments, not in their worst.” Death spoke, his voice soft as he tried to at least make the tension lessen more than it already was with the scandal and the man. “May they rest in eternal slumber and peace.” The father added, throwing white flowers into the grave.

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The man was about to dig his grave deeper, until some of the people attending the funeral decided to drag him somewhere else. The last thing anyone wanted right now was more bloodshed and tension.

The woman continued to weep and sob, however after hearing Death's words she appeared to calm down. She slowly raised her gaze to look into Death's eyes, sincere gratitude mixed along with the grief in her eyes.

"G-Gracias... Muerte." She whispered.

Meanwhile, from afar a young stood, leaning against a tree on top of a hill. He looked down at the events that was taking place.

"Haven't been to one of these in a while." He mused to himself.

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Death gave a soft nod at the widow, turning back to the sight of the caskets. The words that the child had mentioned kept rushing through his mind. About how his father would be mad, how the snake had told him such things as the rotting of Jorge’s skin and so on. The child was gifted, but could that gift turned on him and caused his death? As much as he wanted to search into it any further, questioning the widow was out of the question. She had suffered enough. “Then in the name of the father, the son and the Holy Ghost, we bless these souls, and hope that the lord might guide them into the happiness that awaits them beyond life and death. For only he knows what has happened, and only he can judge over them.” The father went on to say. Flowers and petals were then showered off into the graves. The first drops of rain began to fall, and the father signaled for Death to begin to fill he graves with dirt. Death gave a small bow to the widow and picked up the shovel, beginning to fill them up. Undertaker hummed at the widow, rubbing her shoulders gently. “Come along, dear. You’ll catch a cold.” He asked.

 

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The widow shook her head slowly. She couldn't bare to leave her son and husband before they were fully buried. She couldn't even bare to leave the graves period; she wanted to stay there forever.

"N-No..." She whispered, more tears streaming down her face as she watched the coffins get buried in the soil. "I want to... Be with them..."

Meanwhile, in Death's view the figure stood on top of the hill, watching as graves get filled. He sighed softly and scratched small horns that was on his head.

"Boy, did I really f*** up this time."

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Death continued to fill the graves up, glancing up to notice the figure on the hill. He didn't recognize the person from where he stood. Had he seen him before? Maybe or maybe not? Death filled up one grave and turned to one of the men. "Could you...?" Death asked. The man quickly nodded, taking the shovel and helping out with filling the graves. Undertaker and Megara stood by the widow, trying to comfort her in any possible way as the coffins began to disappear within the dirt. Death walked off, walking up the small hill towards the figure, not really noticing any details of the boy. Only that he seemed young. "Rain in a funeral usually means that the skies are crying for the dead." He began. "Won't you come down to say goodbye? All support for the widow is appreciated."

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The boy didn't expect to have Death approach him. Originally be was going to just leave, however decided to stay just out of curiosity of the interaction. He grinned as he leaned against the tree.

"Me? You wouldn't want me down there... I don't do 'well' against crowds..." Not only did the young man had horns on his head, but he also had small bat like wings with a tail to boot. As he chuckled, his tongue slithered out like a snake.

"I'll give the widow my regards another time."

(What he looks like)

Posted Image

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(That's no boy that's a very attractive young man hot datum)

 

Death's brows furrowed as he came to notice the person's appearance. Horns on his head much like ones of a goat, black wings much like ones of a bat, and his tongue much like that of a snake...was this boy in costume or something? Maybe trying to scare someone? Even so if anyone were to find him they would throw a fit of how he looked, how he could easily resemble the devil or something along those lines. However, the more he looked at the boy, the more theories began to swirl in his mind. "...you spoke to him, didn't you? To Ani." Death began, trying his best not to look threatening despite his suspicions. "You said that his father would be mad, and that Jorge's skin would rot...you saw what happened to Ani and the fisherman...you know what happened, don't you?" Death asked. His studies always taught him that everything had a logical explanation and that there was no such thing as superstitions or fantasy. Yet as strange as this town was, the events that have conspired, even sceptics could begin to become believers in hope to make some sense.

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(Oh yes~)

The young man crossed his arms and grinned. He was absolutely amused at Death's reaction. It was different than the others.

"Ahh... So you aren't as closed minded as I thought. That's good." He said, leaning against the tree. "Going to the whole thing that happened, I think I should let you piece it together for now. You need to learn to open your eyes. When you do that you'll see the truth. That's what I hate about you grown-ups. You close your eyes and only see what's in front of you. 'Logic' and 'reasoning' and all of that." The young man sighed, and leaned his head back. "If only."

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Death watched the young man as he spoke. As it appeared he wasn't being open enough to the possibilities that surrounded the mystery of the fisherman and his son. Slowly Death began to note stuff down. For one he wasn't human. Second, it was obvious that he had something to do with whatever happened to Ani and his father. Third...what else could he say? This person wasn't even suppose to exist according to logic and reasoning. He remembered Ani's words, and a shiver ran down his spine. "My name is Death," he began. "You can shape shift for one, it seems. Second, you either can predict the future, or manipulate what it is to come. You tried to warn Ani, and in the end it couldn't be avoided, could it?" Death speculated. He was now barely grasping at straws for explanations, yet everything that he had learned over the years simply meant meaningless as he tried to think of legends and wives tales. "Jorge will not live much longer, will he? He has a son...will he at least die peacefully? You should know...his son has been accused of things he is innocent for."

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The young man couldn't help but chuckle when Death said he was trying to warn Ani.

"Wow..." He said through his chuckle. "You say that like I'm an angel." He seemed to appear different once Death said Ani's name. Almost like it struck something inside him. The man looked to the side for a moment to ponder what he should say.

"...I think you already know the answer to the toy maker's fate." He uttered. "However... His boy... There is a greater picture you're not seeing. You're never going to see it like this. Open your eyes. Abandon everything you thought you knew. Or don't. After all, I could just be an illusion, and you could be going absolutely nuts. Seeing the death of a child... It drives people crazy doesn't it? At least, that's what you people think. Always try to find a logic and reason to things you don't understand..."

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Once again dread and confusion filled Death. "To open my eyes..." Death murmured. How could he truly open them when he had yet to see any of it? Maybe it wasn't something of science, but of religion. Or maybe he was just getting too old to understand such things. He couldn't figure it out. "Well I am sorry that my eyes aren't fully open at the moment. Maybe indeed I have grown too old for it...which is why younger children are more vulnerable." Death explained, sighing at the end. So Jorge would die in the end after all. Yet there was no time frame. "If I've gone insane then I doubt you would look to me how you do...I would prefer something like a talking piece of ice cream." Death joked. It would not last much longer- "Muerte!" Death turned to see Megara waving for him. He waved back and turned to the boy. "Well I think I should get going...maybe we can talk again once my eyes open up, if they ever do." Death went on. Just before he left, he waved at the boy and gave one final word. "The people of this town aren't used to have destiny mess around with them. Be careful what you do...even god has his flaws." With that he walked back to Megara, hurrying with her as they left together. "Who were you talking to?" "Mm...I wish I knew..."

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A year passed and everything was somewhat normal since the terrible event that has plagued Miguel and his father. They both made a recovery... Or Miguel did, at least. Now the only thing the boy suffered from was burn scars on half of his body from his right leg up his left. It wasn't too bad and Miguel thought of it as battle battle scars. Jorge on the other hand... Didn't do so well. Lately he has been growing sicker and sicker, but his excuse to Mighel was that he simply had a cold. But today was it. Jorge had to tell someone, and this person was Death. He knocked on Death's door quickly.

"Muerte..." Jorge uttered. "Dios mio por favor, open the door..." He hoped Grim and Megara was off somewhere else.

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That morning Megara and Grim had gone off to buy groceries. Originally it was just Megara, but of course Grim would never say no to an opportunity to have fun running around the town and exploring. If he wasn’t with Miguel, he needed something to do, and with it came to run around the town and explore until his feet wouldn’t be able to take it any longer, which wasn’t very easy to do. Now Death was doing his little experiments, trying out medicines and poisons and writing down different effects on his notebook. He watched one of the wild rats he had captured drink one drop of one of the venoms he had from snakes. Specifically, the venom of the snake that Miguel and Grim had brought over. The animal died in a matter of a minute. Death wrote down on his notes. “Hm…it might take a few more minutes for a large being…maybe twenty minutes for a grown up adult?” A knock on the door. Death closed his notebook and covered the small cage where the animal was in with a towel. He hurried over, expecting any other patient. It wasn’t that he didn’t expect Jorge. Just that he didn’t expect Jorge in such state of…well sickness. Worry. Pain. “Jorge, you look…terrible. No offense.” Death spoke, quickly hurrying him inside and getting him a chair to sit on. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

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Jorge quickly hurried inside and sat down on the chair as soon as Death brought it to him. He looked to be full of grief and dread.

"I know I look like meirda..." Jorge uttered. "I'm a very old man, Muerte. And I know you believe that soon, I am to exit this life. We both know this. No matter how much I prepare for it however, I find myself more and more ill-prepared. Look-" he took off his shoe and rolled up his left pant leg a little bit (he hardly ever wore long pants; lately he has also been wearing shoes a size too big) to reveal that his skin has turned black and was rotting from his toes on his left foot all the way up to his ankle.

"I heard stories of this sickness..." Jorge uttered. "Gangrene. It appeared where the nail had pierced me during the fire. I wanted to tell you but... I couldn't bring myself... It grew so fast, Muerte. I cannot even feel it anymore..."

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“And the toy maker’s skin will rot.”

 

Death’s eyes widened in horror as he looked down at the infected foot. If any child saw it they would start screaming and thinking that it was either a ghost of a zombie. But the fact was something more realistic. “A constriction of the blood flow…sh*t.” Death hissed, kneeling down as he took a closer look. It looked completely dead. Scratch that. It WAS completely dead. He didn’t to revise his books to understand such. “Of course you can’t feel it, it’s all dead, Jorge.” Death explained as he looked down at it. “Everything that is black is dead. The blood as simply stopped flowing. I honestly don’t think we are able to save that foot of yours. However we can stop it before it spreads any further. But that would require…amputation of that foot, for starters, and using antibiotics in hopes of killing it off before it goes any further.” Death explained. However it was obvious what the dangers of that were. Jorge was too old to handle such procedure…it could kill him.

 

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"Well! Good thing this was my bad foot then!" Jorge joked with a bitter chuckle. He knew he was going to go. But not this soon. Not when Miguel was still so young. What would Miguel do without his dear Papi? Jorge still had to sing songs to him at night so he could fall asleep.

"Muerte..." Jorge uttered, staring at his foot. "What do you think will kill me faster? The amputation or the wait? I can't do this to Miguel... I can't leave him now. I love him too much. It's funny... The day I brought you to him I wanted to leave him to die... And yet now, I can't bare the the thought of being without him."

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Death couldn’t help but to purse his lips at the morbid question. However he decided to answer truthfully. “At your age the amputation has its benefits and its risks. If we get rid of your leg and give you antibiotics in order to get rid of the bacteria that is cutting the blood flow, you should be able to live on for a few more years with the help of a wheelchair or some crutches. But with it there is the risk that at your age, the amputation could be too much, and that you wouldn’t survive the operation itself. It is a fifty-fifty chance. If you decide to not amputate it, you will live longer, but it will spread up your leg and across your body. You would live until the circulation starts to be cut off to your vital organs…and they stop working.” Death explained. Both choices didn’t guaranteed the survival at one hundred percent, but they were choices regardless. Part of him cursed himself for not having the facilities that could possibly save Jorge’s life in the operation, but there was only so much you could do. “I’m so sorry Jorge, but those are the only options I can think of.”

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Jorge looked down at his leg in silence. He stared at it for a while. Should he choose to live with or without it? If amputating his leg meant that Jorge would live longer, then Jorge would easily do it. Hell, he'd cut off his own leg if he had to. But it didn't. He could die during the operation. And that was something be couldn't risk. He was bound to die soon anyway if he didn't have the illness. Jorge couldn't risk dying right now.

"No... Muerte..." Jorge uttered after a long silence. "I cannot amputate my leg if it means I may die during the operation... I can't leave Miguel so suddenly like that. Even if it means I'll live every moment through pain and agony, I will do it. I will endure being unable to feel every part of my body until the very end. "

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Part of Death wanted to beg for Jorge to accept the surgery. The poor man had gone through allot of crap as it was. To add insult to a literal injury now he would end up dying painfully instead of the peaceful death he deserved. It wasn't fair. It really wasn't. Had the fire not occurred, he wouldn't have gotten such infection. Even if he ended up getting it another way...it wasn't fair overall. "I'm sorry, Jorge, I really am." Death apologized, lowering his head. "If I had more advanced equipment maybe I could have ensured your life in the procedure. But..." Death sighed. He was frustrated over all, even though he looked serious most of the time, you could tell there was thought and regret in his eyes.

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Jorge couldn't help but chuckle once again, but in a more happier tone. "Oh Muerte..." He uttered, placing a strong yet frail hand on Death's shoulder. It was a hand a father would place on son.

"It is not your fault... And whatever happens to me is not your fault sí? Don't feel bad. And when the day comes that I will not be on this Earth anymore... Just know that I am proud of all the work you have done and I am grateful for everything you did for me... Hijo." With that, Jorge smiled.

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