Thread: Postponing Death (Skeith & NeoWicked)

There were rules. Everyone has a time, and when that time comes they have to die. Once upon a time, the many realms beyond that of the living bickered and battled over the souls of the recently departed. Which is when they came. Some called them Nephilim the bastard offspring of angels and demons, others called them Angels of Death, Ferrymen, Grim Reapers, Valkyries... Whatever the name, their purpose remained unchanged. When someone's time was up, it was their job to visit the mortal world, collect their soul and guide it to where it belonged. None ever questioned the nature of their work, or the extent of their powers. None, save for one. Nycto was young by Nephilim standards. Barely over a millennium, making her barely an adult. She had undergone the appropriate training. The process was simple. She would arrive, wait for the individuals time, and with her blade of choice, she would sever the ties that bound the soul to the physical body. It was her first assignment on her own. No supervision and no training. She stood in the shadows of a hospital room, invisible to the eyes of mortals. Her cold eyes staring blankly at a young woman approaching death. Had the woman's time been immediate she would have had no hesitation, no reason to resist her mission. But it wasn't. She waited their for days for her time to come. As the hours wore on, her heart began to ache for the mortal. Their lives were already so damn short, that one should die so young seemed like an injustice. As she waited she acquainted herself with the woman's soul. Examining her memories, her dreams, her desires. The woman was so pure, so selfless. She sent a vision of herself into the woman's dreams as she slept. A nameless friend to ease the cold nights. She was smitten by her warm and caring heart. She waited there for an entire week before her time would end. She emerged from the shadows, still invisible. From the darkness a silver sickle formed in her hand. She raised it above her head, ready to sever her bond before hesitation took her. This wasn't right. She banished the scythe, staring at her for several moments before another spirit descended from the light. An angel. Nycto. You know your task. Free her so that I may take her. The angel spoke, looking at the young reaper. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she stared at the girl. It isn't right. It can't be her time. It is. You know that there are no mistakes. She is ready to die. The angel spoke again. I refuse. I won't allow it. Nycto looked at the angel, defiance showing in her previously stoic face. Her time will come when she is ready, not when the angels are. The angel's face grew stern. You invite enemies into your life, Nycto. The Nephilim are to remain neutral. Not anymore. I choose to protect a mortal. Should that make me an enemy of my own kind or the other realms, than I will bear that responsibility. The young reaper plunged her ghostly hand into the woman's chest and withdrew it, banishing a cloud of black mist. The disease is no more. She will live. She looked up to find that the angel had left. With a sigh, Nycto's form slowly altered to that of a mortal. A simple uniform, matching the young woman's formed over her body. She casually exited the hospital room, taking a seat in the lobby. When the morning came, the woman they thought was to die that night would be found alive and well. Nycto would be waiting to formally meet her, and to protect her.