Chioniphobia

Spots

The Reaper draws her hand back, and for the first time he notices her long black claws. He does not wince.

She tugs at her hand, and the claws slip off, along with the black coating her hand. Gloves. She's wearing clawed gloves, and for a heartbeat he's tempted to laugh. Then she looks back at him with those childish eyes, and he forgets to make himself breathe.

The concern is gone now.

She pulls off her other glove for good measure, tucking the pair away in the depths of her cloak, and reaches fearlessly towards his face.

He does not flinch as she runs her fingers through his hair, does not blink as she scratches behind his ear lightly, does not let his eyes widen when he sees the Reaper smile.

"You're an odd one."

"What's so odd?" he challenges her, because apparently he is a fool after all.

Her smile widens and she laughs, her expression like a delighted child showing a bug they'd caught to their mother.

"You're a brave one. Most run, you know. Or hide." She tilts her head again, appraising him, a rabbit to put in her stew. "I can practically hear your heartbeat. It's awfully fast."

He lifts his chin up slightly, even though his bluff doesn't seem to really be working. "I thought you said I was brave."

She claps her hands together once, the sound sharp. He holds his ears still. "Oh, you are, you definitely are! It's very brave to look something you're afraid of in the eye without flinching."

You know I'm afraid? Then stop toying with me.

The Reaper pounces, and all he can see is teeth teeth too many teeth

He does not close his eyes, and so he sees her stop just short of touching him.

"Boo."

The exaggerated movement of her lips as she says it is probably louder than the word itself. Or maybe it just seems quiet because it's being drowned out by the frantic tattoo of his heart in his unmoving ears.

Her smile doesn't fade. A pale, thin face plastered with a perpetual grin?

She steps back.

"Frozen, are you?" she asks, and her face appears almost disappointed.

He glares at her. "If I was paralyzed, I could hardly speak, now could I?"

Her smile returns, like the winter sun piercing through a cloud. "Ha! Clever fairy."

"Púca," he corrects her, because his kind are not a bunch of golden-haired, butterfly-winged, egotistic twits. Púcaí technically may be of the fae, but fairy has connotations he prefers not to associate with.

The Reaper rolls something over her knuckles- an hourglass. He sees the glint of a slim black chain trail from the hourglass to her neck. "What do you think of what Mim did?"

He blinks. "Mim?"

"The Man in the Moon, darling."

He wrinkles his nose at darling and replies with a shrug. "Belief is strong here. Most humans likely won't stop seeing us."

"Would you stake your life on that?"

Her expression is oddly intense, though her voice as she asks the question is cool.

He tenses, and she seems perturbed. "Oh, I'm not here to collect you, dear. I'm asking if, hypothetically, you would stake your existence on the belief of humans."

"Not if I wanted to live long," he replies, and the Reaper appears mollified.

"Exactly! Why would one give up immortality and power for some ridiculous gamble like that?" she says, throwing her hands up in the air as if she's proven some great point.

"I wouldn't mind giving up my immortality for power," he muses, half to himself.

Death pauses. "I suppose that makes sense. There's only so much one can do just with a long life."

She pats his cheek. He startles, eyes widening, but doesn't flinch.

The Reaper drops the hourglass into her palm and closes her fingers around it, then presses her fist into his open hand and releases her grip. He looks down at his hand and sees not an hourglass, but a paintbrush with a slim black handle.

"There," she says, smirking. "Now you can tell everyone you've had a brush with Death."

Before he can even process the bad joke, she's gone.

Finally, he allows himself to tremble, wrapping his arms around himself. He leans back against the rotting tree, biting his lip until he tastes the tang of blood spreading over his teeth.

What was that all about?