inhotwater | GOD OF DEATH AU

You...

...Yes. Well. It was not for your sake, I simply... chose to take my time. [Just... because. Just because.

It feels weird to be thanked.] Well. You got your revenge.

I know you were just doing your job. Still...thank you anyway. [it wasn't for him and he knows that but...it still requires thanks.

he huffs out a small sigh]

...I suppose I did get my revenge. And now I have to escape before they find his putrid body, I suppose. [he straightens off the table.]

[It makes something feel tight inside. When he says thank you like that.]

You're... welcome.

[...]

Well. You'd best hurry along.

And pray you don't see me again for a long time.

[Osvaldus was about to step away, to agree that he does need to hurry along and get going--but that last part makes him pause, lifting his head to look at Enygma for a moment with shocking intensity.

He's quiet, eyes flicking over him, as if looking for something, or trying to memorize him--before Osvaldus steps close, resting a hand on Enygma's shoulder for balance as he rocks forward onto his toes and presses his lips to the corner of his mouth.

It's barely a brush before he's stepping back, lifting a hand to touch his cheek briefly. He looks sad, almost.]

I'll miss you, Enygma.

[and it's true--before he steps back the rest of the way and moves to turn and make his escape from the city]

[What.

What?

Enygma is not... shaken. As a rule. And yet, in this moment, things happen that he's not the least bit prepared for. He feels frozen and as if he's suddenly found the world shifting around him, terrified to break whatever spell is keeping him grounded here.

...By the time his thoughts come back to him, Osvaldus is gone. Running out the city.

And there is the oddest conflict, where Enygma wishes to see him again, but also has the burning desire to never have to again, even when it should be time.

It's.

Confusing.

And he doesn't know what to think.

...But he has a stop to make in the Underworld as is. He'll... ask his brother a favor. Let this mortal's escape from the city be as safe as it can be, if nothing else. The right person asleep here and there.

As Enygma goes to

not

think about what all that was.]

[More time passes, now. Years. Five of them, to be exact.

The next time Enygma is called to visit Osvaldus, he'll find him huddled in a storage room in a back alley in Rome, back pressed against the wall, frantically ripping off parts of his toga to tie around a bloody wound in his thigh, putting as much pressure on it as possible. He's pretty cut up elsewhere, too, but that seems to be the worst.

He's so focused on his task that he doesn't even notice Enygma, at first.]

[Perhaps he'll feel the chill in the room first, then, as Enygma goes closer. Watching Oswald curiously.

This feels... familiar.]

...What happened?

[Osvaldus's head jerks up at that, tensing--but relaxes when he realizes who it is. There's a smile there, even]

Enygma. [the way he says it, it's like he hasn't been happier to see anyone in his life, then he winces, glancing down at his thigh]

Well, Vespasian invaded Jerusalem and destroyed the Temple and put out a bounty for any of King David's kin. [he grunts as he ties the bandage around the wound tighter, trying to stem the flow]

Now, granted, I'm not of the line of David by any means, but--[and he pauses to pant]--not that that's going to actually stop them. So a group of men came at me with knives and I managed to get away from them, but not before they got me more times than I'd like.

[...Mortals are so busy. So much going on all the time. How do they keep track?]

...You understand what my presence here means for the state of your wounds, yes?

[Oswald arches an eyebrow at that, tying that knot with another grunt of pain, before he bends down to scoop up a loose cobblestone from the ground]

What makes you so sure it's me you're here for?

[he presses himself to the wall, staying out of sight of the door---and a moment later there are voices, far away but coming closer, and footsteps.]

...I show up early, sometimes.

But not quite that early.

[Enygma takes a step back, perfectly blending in with the shadows around him. As if he's not even there.]

[Osvaldus's hand tightens around the stone, then, eyes flicking towards Enygma as he melts into the shadows, but then his attention is once again on the door.

There's some voices in Latin, arguing, telling them to spread out and keep looking--and there are some footsteps that move away, but some that move closer until finally, the owner of one of those footsteps appears, looking into the doorway, past where Osvaldus is pressed against the wall just to the inside of the door--and he waits until the man is two steps in before he's swinging that cobblestone with a grunt, clocking him hard in the back of the head.

The man goes down with barely a sound, collapsing, sword clattering a bit on the stone as blood starts to spread from the back of his head. Osvaldus ducks, grabbing the body by the toga and dragging him the rest of the way into the door and into the shadows, before stooping to retrieve that sword. It's a short sword, thankfully, though he's not much of a fighter, and his chest rises and falls, waiting for any other signs of movement outside]

[Enygma tilts his head curiously, simply watching this. Oh, Ares would hate this, he can tell. Far too sneaky for his liking.

Good. He's far too demanding, anyway.]

...One down.

[Osvaldus's eyes flick over towards him again at that, and there's a slight smirk--before he's refocusing, listening as some more steps approach. The next one is a younger man, mouth twisted in a scowl as he steps inside; and Osvaldus doesn't wait for him to look around, he just darts forward, covering the man's mouth with his hand and running him through with his short sword from behind. The man twitches, scrabbling for a moment at the hand at his mouth, before Osvaldus twists the sword and pulls it out, shoving the body further into the shadows as it falls before stepping back again, hidden by the door.

Soon after, there's another, and Osvaldus disposes of him in the same way, even though he's starting to go a bit pale, the bandage at his thigh now a pinkish red rather than white. As he finishes off the third pursuer he steps back, panting, listening--the street seems quiet, for a moment.]

[More souls to collect. Enygma sends them on their way, one at a time, before turning his attention back to Osvaldus.

Who looks... not great. And, well, as he'd said... sometimes he arrives early. But certainly not before someone even receives their fatal injury. He knows who he's here for.]

...You don't look good.

[Osvaldus's eyes don't move towards Enygma as he waits, inching closer to the door so he can peer into the street]

Well, that's not as flattering as what you've said before. Really, five years and that's the best you can do?

[his voice is a low murmur, almost inaudible, if he wasn't so certain Enygma can probably hear him anyway.]

You know what I mean.

[A little agitated. Honestly, now... The dying should not be this touchy.]

I'm surprised you're still upright.

[he'll get a brief look and an arched eyebrow for that] And I'm surprised you're still underestimating me. [he says, stepping out into the street cautiously. There's a slight wobble in his step, but he clenches his jaw and grits his teeth and leans on the wall a bit as he keeps moving, sticking to the shadows, just as he did when he was a child.]

[Enygma doesn't so much... move, as somehow find himself going from shadow to shadow.]

You're pushing it.

You can't avoid the end forever.

I'm not trying to avoid it forever. If that were the case, I'd hardly waste my time talking to you, now would I.

[he huffs, sounding annoyed] You're in a mood tonight.

...You simply have a bad habit of getting yourself in trouble.

[HE'S WORRIED, DUMBASS]

[at that, his mouth twists into a scowl, eyes narrowing in a glare]

I didn't ask for them to attack me. I was just the most convenient Jew available.

[he huffs, leaning on the wall hard as he keeps moving] I have no idea how they discovered it, though. It's not as though I advertise it.

Perhaps you have a stalker. Who knows.

[...]

How many more are after you?

I don't know. Three, at least? I didn't really get the chance to count while they were coming at me.

And what is your goal? To track them down or to just get away?

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