@DragonSong He stared up at the top of the tent, his black eyes tracking her every move. She was young, barely into womanhood. That didn't bother Ashsamdi so much. He'd been there for much younger souls, there for much older souls, there for souls that hadn't even made it to the first breath of their lives, and there for souls taking their last breath of their lives. Still, this was the first time since coming here that his job would be performed for someone he knew.
Well, sort of knew.
Ashsamdi averted his eyes from the girl for a moment, casting his gaze across the large tent. There were crowds of people around, all engaged in their own activities and conversations, laughing and generally enjoying their lives.
He stood in the shadows near the catch-net of the tightrope, his hands sunk into the pockets of his pants, his body held in a position that shouted boredom. Really, Ashsamdi was just tired. He was tired of being among mortals. He was tired of being on this side of the living. He was tired being stuck in a place he had no choice about because that damned woman wouldn't even stop long enough to talk with him, hear him out, and help him figure out a way to cut the binding that kept him trapped to her side. Well, not really to her side. He could move a certain distance away from her, but at a certain point, it was like hitting an invisible wall. He simply couldn't go any further, and if he tried, his body felt like it was going to be torn apart. He'd never experienced such pain in his entire life before. So, he'd given up on trying to escape by distance and had tried another tactic. The problem with that tactic was that it required speaking to that damned woman, who sooner ran than paid attention to him.
Of course, she'd stopped running, which was good. The problem was, she'd struck up with this circus of freaks, rejects, weirdos, and things far more powerful than he, and had made a life for herself here. Ashsamdi had done his best to stay out of her sight, which was quite easy, considering he had less energy to spend on a corporeal form, but he was never far away from her. He always knew where she was, like an inexorable magnet was pulling on his every sense to make him aware that she was right there, and she wasn't going anywhere. At least, not yet.
Ash blew out a sigh and returned his gaze to the girl, watching her grip the railing of the platform and steel herself for the feat she was about to attempt. She was cautious, which was good. Living things survived because they were cautious. But there were times, no matter how cautious, no matter how careful, living things met their end because of things beyond their control. This was one of those times. There would be no changing this girl's fate. No changing the fact that her thread of life was about to be cut, and he would have to take her to the world beyond the veil. At least, the pain would be fleeting. A brief moment at the end of her life.
Brief moments... It was one of those that had put Ash in his situation to begin with.
The cult that had sprung up around him was a constant source of entertainment for him. They made him feel bigger than he was. More important than he was. He was just a minor death god - not even a god, really, just a spirit guide - and here were these people who worshipped him like he was some kind of great deity. Like he was on the same level as his master. And who was he to judge the actions of mortals? That wasn't in his job description. And he enjoyed the attention they paid him. Sure, a lot of what they did was questionable, but so long as his trips to visit them were kept brief and he was still doing his job, then his boss didn't really care and was content to look the other way. Ash was still bringing souls to the realm of the dead. What did it matter
how he got those souls in the first place? And he'd never
told the cult to start doing their weird little ceremony, their Bride in Black, their weird ritual of magic and other questionable things that bound a mortal woman to Ash. And he'd never
told them to make the woman a sacrifice to him.
But they did, and he was there to take the woman's soul - and whoever else happened to fail to survive the debauchery going on - to the other side of the veil. It was great fun. Perform a little "god" trick and the mortals melted to their knees like candle wax, bowing and calling in hoarse voices to him. It was a spark of enjoyment in Ash's otherwise monotonous life. A clockwork enjoyment. Something to look forward to.
Until this damned woman showed up and ruined it all.
Okay, if he had to be honest, it wasn't like the damned woman had
intended to ruin his fun. Ash tilted his head to one side, watching the girl take her first tentative step out onto the tightrope. Really, the woman had simply shown up out of the blue, got involved in the debauchery and feasting, and the next thing she knew, she'd been chosen as the sacrifice and had gone through the ritual to bind her to him. Not that she'd been aware of it. Not that she'd actually
agreed to anything. Ash hadn't even objected. He'd thought that everything would turn out like it always did; come morning, the woman would be dead, and he'd be on his way back home, delivering souls like he was supposed to and enjoying a good conversation about what happened this time with his brethren. Except...
Except the damned woman had fled. She'd run away. She'd snuck out in the single moment afforded to her by the cult and had disappeared. The cult hadn't been able to find her. Ashsamdi, however, had. And each time he'd approached her, she'd run. She'd fled.
Ash sighed again, rolling his shoulders to loosen tight muscles, his eyes on the girl as she took another step onto the rope. Then another. And another. And then she was away from the platform, away from sure safety, and Ash could see the shadow of the Thread Cutter over the girl's shoulder, waiting, waiting...
Then the girl began to pitch forward in the graceful curve of a cartwheel. The movement stuttered slightly, but she kept moving through the motions of the cartwheel, though her eyes went wide as she looked straight down at Ash. He blinked, surprised, that the girl was actually making eye contact with him. But then the Thread Cutter made her move, and the moment the girl's hands locked on the rope, Ash saw the moment the scissors shore through the girl's life thread. The rope snapped.
Ashsamdi remained stone still as the girl plummeted, her scream filling the tent. Another scream echoed hers, one that Ash suspected was the girl's name, roared out by a man who stood too far away to be of any help. Ash remained still as the girl hit the ground with bone-breaking force, her entire body seemingly becoming a pebble-filled flesh sack as her bones broke and shattered. He stared down at her with soulless black eyes, and was startled to realize that the girl was still alive. She was barely hanging on to life, though blood poured from her mouth and pooled around her.
Ash sighed again. So much for an easy job. There was nothing he could do until the girl died, until her soul detached from its flesh housing and stood alone. Only then could he approach her and take her where she needed to be. Until that happened, he wasn't needed here.
He turned to leave the scene then, his eyes downcast. Something struck him before he'd even gone two steps, and he turned his gaze onto a dark-skinned elven boy on the ground, the kid's eyes going wide as he saw Ash's face. The boy looked like he was about to say something, about to shout - or cry - but then the crowd moved and separated them. Turning his attention away from the boy, Ashsamdi began to head toward the entrance of the tent, intending to leave. He froze suddenly, like a deer sensing a hunter's arrow. She was there. She was there, outside the tent. Had she seen him? He didn't know.
Cursing his bad luck, Ashsamdi released the power keeping him to a corporeal form and vanished from sight, returning to the spirit world, unheard and unseen.
