Eden: The third world after Sol and Pandora, Eden’s nature was completely different from that of Sol. Its world was inhabited by all kinds of species, such as Terrans, Vampires, Fae, Elves, Sylphs and other magical species, some races having unique abilities. I say was because Eden no longer exists. Its inhabitants have migrated here, to Sol during the events of Exodus. As a result, those that survived Exodus are called Edenists, and they have spread themselves across the world. In some places, they integrate themselves into human culture, such as the Oceanian Republic and Hope City. In others, they completely take over the system, forcing humans to become second-class citizens, such as areas in the Lost Continent and the American Union.
Chapter 5: Back to school shopping
As he studies the object he is holding, Death likes to think that he has spent the last 50 years productively, even if he was in Limbo.
He places the object down to where he found it. Where dozens more lie next to it.
Obviously, the owner of said items has not.
He turns to the vampire, who is sharply dressed in a tuxedo and has gelled his jet black hair backwards.
“So… you’ve spent the past 3 centuries collecting items…” he points at what he is certain is a collection of second-hand undergarments, “like this?”
Pluto nods his head excitedly.
“Of course! You never know when you’ll need these items, be it dirty underwear, used cars, or even the Priwen!” At his confused look, Pluto clarifies, “King Arthur’s shield,” which only creates more questions than it answers.
“Master Death,” the man turns his back to him and spreads his arms wide, gazing upon the massive rows and columns of trash, trinkets and now apparently, priceless Mystic Artifacts. “Welcome to my collection.”
Still, he is impressed; the sheer volume of items here takes his breath away, weapons, vehicles, clothing, armor, he even sees animals and Mystic Beasts trapped in cages. The interior of the building is far, far, bigger than what the external appearance indicated. He recognizes the magic of course; the man has employed a great number of space runes made by the Elves within the warehouse. But it must have cost him limb.
Looking at the eye patch covering Pluto’s left eye, he wonders about the story behind it.
He frowns. He is certain that many of these objects did not come into the collector’s hands through legal means, and he makes his reservations known to him.
“Legal? Obviously not! When I see how people mistreat and under-appreciate their treasures, I have to step in and rescue them, laws be damned,” Pluto lovingly caresses the material of a cloak he finds strangely familiar.
“Look at this, do you know what this is?”
He shakes his head. There are millions of cloaks in the world.
The man whips the coat around and over his back and smiles mischievously at him.
“Check this out.” He puts the hood on and suddenly, he vanishes into thin air.
Death blinks. His eyes narrows as his memory starts trying to sort through billions of years of existence to match the Mystical Artifact.
“Boo.”
He is not startled by the sudden voice from behind, but he still turns to look, only to find nothing.
A cloak that makes its wearer invisible.
And then his memory clicks and he remembers.
“Tarnkappe” he murmurs out. And Pluto reappears before him, hood down of course, a sly grin on his face.
“That’s right, the magical cloak worn by Siegfried.”
He swings it off his shoulders, gingerly placing it back on the rack.
“Made by the dwarves, this cloak helped Siegfried become one of the mightiest heroes. He wrestled and won Queen Brünhild wearing this cloak.” And pride can be seen all over his face before it is quickly replaced by anger. “And when his friends betrayed and killed him, do you know what they did with it?”
He knows of course, he’s spoken with the hero numerous times in Sanctum.
“They dumped it in the river!” he throws his hands up, “can you believe it? Such a priceless treasure, and they tossed it in the river!”
He continues walking, and Death follows the furious collector.
“Unbelievable. It’s like they’re treating these objects like they aren’t alive.”
What? He is certain that is what the word object meant.
Pluto picks up another piece of clothing and marvels at it, and this time he sees that they are a pair of dirty socks, and he highly suspects they have not been washed in a long, long time if the smell is anything to go by.
“These aren’t magical, but they belonged to a soldier serving King Arthur. And they left it on his dead body. I couldn’t believe it when I robbed that grave!” After smelling it, yes, he can believe that the pair of socks in the man’s hand is more than two thousand old and belonged to a dead man.
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The man turns and gestures at him, or rather, what’s on him.
“And look at you!” He looks at himself; the clothes he had chosen were rather simple, but he suddenly wishes that he had asked about their background before donning them. Black jeans, a black T-shirt, and black headphones that rested comfortably on his neck.
“Pants that once belonged to a famous scientist, a shirt that was worn to a President’s funeral, and those headphones,” he can see the man salivating and he instinctively takes a few steps back. “They belonged to a famous musician! Dr. Grey or something like that.”
His hands instinctively reach up to touch Dr. Grey’s headphones and he idly wonders if it is polite to test out its noisy-cancelling capabilities now.
Still, he is curious to know why the vampire is willing to loan these ‘precious treasures’ to him if he loves them so much.
“Of course,” he warns as he sticks a finger out, “I’m lending you these items on one condition –”
Ah, there it is, and he wonders what kind of sick request the man would ask him to perform.
“–You have to return these items when you are done with them.”
That’s it? He already intended on doing so. So he nods.
Immediately a perverse grin spreads across the man’s face and he sinks to the floor as he pumps his fists into the air.
“AT LAST!” he cries, the tears already streaming down his cheeks. “MY COLLECTION WILL BE COMPLETE!”
Death takes a step back, taken aback at the sudden outburst, and Pluto immediately tries to maintain his composure.
“My apologies. It’s just that…” he wipes the tears with his handkerchief. “In my centuries of collecting, I have never obtained an item that was once in the possession of an Apostle.”
And suddenly he feels much more disturbed than ever, and Pluto notices it as well.
“I am sorry for my…” his head swings down in dejection as he tries to find the correct word.
It comes half a second later, and in that time, Death has come up with several that could fit the bill.
Insanity
Repulsiveness
Obsession
“Incompetence." He frowns, that was not on the list. "Please let me know how to make it up to you, Lord Apostle.”
Whatever the case, his first problem with clothes has been solved and he must really thank Charon for introducing him to this person.
He is about to say his thanks to Pluto when the second half of his sentence fully sinks in.
“Hrm… I suppose there is one thing you can help me with.” He muses out loud. Hook.
And Pluto immediately laps it up like a dog shown a chew toy.
“Anything, I will help you with anything you need!”
This is going to be easier than he thought.
“I require assistance” he slowly drawls out, wondering how to phrase his request so that it does not seem as grand as it actually is, “blending in as a human.” Line
He knows the eventuality will come, but he wants to avoid meeting any of the other Apostles until he has no choice.
“Of course!"
It works like a charm, and he smiles within. And sinker.
"Obviously, I won’t breathe a word to anyone about your status. But you’re going to need a house, a background, a school…” he lists on, and Death raises an eyebrow at the prospect of having to attend a school of all places, but it is what normal human youths do, and looking at his reflection, he can’t help but feel he does resemble one.
His long black hair covers one eye, and his small and skinny frame makes him look like one of those emo teenagers he had been mistaken for many times the last time he was in Sol. If going to school would help him blend as a human, he will take it over returning to Heaven any day.
“Oh!” he turns and sees Pluto planting a fist onto an open palm. “You’re going to need a new name!”
“A name?” he asks.
“Well, yeah, we can’t have you referring to yourself as Mr. Apostle of Death,” he says, “that would defeat the whole point, wouldn’t it?”
He grudgingly admits the vampire has a point, and he starts trying to come up with possibilities.
Unfortunately, Pluto already has one in mind.
“How about... Grimson Black.” He looks absolutely delighted at his own suggestion.
Grimson Black. He resists the urge to shoot it down just because it came from the man’s mouth.
He looks at his appearance in the mirror again: a pale boy completely dressed in one colour stares back.
Grimson Black.
He supposes that will be adequate.