~ 4 ~
Venice, 1956
Death had been busy these past few decades, receiving so many lives that it bored him near to death. This boredom and craving for something new, something different led him to Italy. The soft murmur of the water bumping against the walls of the canal, the singsong breeze twisting around his black coat of old. Arms crossed across his chest, he leaned against a cracked, worn down pillar. Across the canal and on the marble railing of a balcony, an old friend sat. A young woman came to stand beside him, leaned against the railing. Death cocked his head against the pillar, a smile spreading across his lips.
"You seem to have a thing for sand dune hair and ocean blue eyes,” Death called out of the murmur of the canal.
“Speak for yourself,” Booker replied with a smirk.
Death invited himself into the artist's studio and helped himself to the already opened wine by an easel. Booker appeared by his side, draped in early morning sunlight.
“Haven't changed, I see. Helping yourself to things that aren't yours,” He said, snatching the bottle to take a swig of it.
“You really are a sight for depthless eyes,” Death muttered, taking hold of Booker’s hand and pulling him into a hug.
“How long’s it been, huh?” Booker murmured into his shoulder.
“Only a lifetime,” Death replied. Booker gave him a hearty pat on the back and took another swig of the wine. Together they sat on the balcony and talked about the years past.
“Her name is Emmaline and she's a sweet thing. Sebastian had a few children, but Emma was the one I knew I had to protect,” He said.
“And why’s that?” Death asked.
“Because she’s not afraid of you, and I knew that’s the only honey you’d ever chase,” Booker replied, standing up on the railing.
Death sighed and looked to the sun.
“Entities such as myself have a tendency to judge humans for their worth, not for who they are. They live about mortals but they don’t live amongst them, as I have…and I believe that’s the completely wrong way to go about it. Why live for forever with all the power in the world, if there’s no one to share it with? I’ve seen history repeat itself over and over, just as my loneliness relapses time and time again. I loved Valentin for his bliss ignorance, Sally for her courage and Sebastian II for his mentality. Without them and without you, I would’ve become a gray husk watching the decades go by,” Death said, watching the waters ripples in the canal below.
“And what about me?” Booker murmured.
“You? I love you because you’re a complete and utter mystery to me.”
ns 15.158.61.48da2
