The 8th Revision or Something

Bored. If there was one word to describe the insurmountable and unknowable maelstrom of thoughts going through the mind of the being watching over the inky black expanse of the afterlife, the simple descriptor would suffice, though it would provide neither closure or help to the one feeling it. A massive skeletal figure leans outside of the massive glass and stone structure he called his home, boney hand waving around aimlessly to move around the black clouds and dead trees that surrounded the palace for only the trillionth time in his entire existence, give or take a few Quintilian before his concentration is broken by something unnatural, no, something unusual within his domain. Frimpt turns his head towards the small, softly glowing silhouette all but dragging themselves along the dead grass, looking to be not even a fourth of the height of the deity, the pained aura and familiar aura of a recent death hanging upon their form, the strong emotions like a cloak of daggers to Frimpt’s senses. Without a second thought upon the thousands he already had Frimpt finds himself snapping with a flourish of red and purple sparks to the pitiful creatures side that lay in his lands, though perhaps on a closer look that would have been to kind of a description. A few seconds of silence hang between the two before a pair of skeletal hands dainty pick up the glowing creatures and move them into something of a comfortable position on Frimpt’s chest, the being of death taking his sweet time to walk back to the palace, the imposing shape it gives off doing nothing to his mood as the grass crunches beneath skeletal feet.

	A sudden deafening barrage of pained screams, searing pains into their stomach, and the distant whisper of a sweet voice on their ear has the creature jolting up from before, a new tidal wave of thoughts filling their mind before a single one stands out, their name, Mori. Mori takes a moment to breath, or at least tries, the familiar motions gone through but the relief or feeling not arriving, instead a stillness only broken up by the sounds at a pitiful attempt at breath. As the unsettling new trait settles in, it is only compounded by the sight of their form, which their eyes catch at a glance, grayish white skin with darker gray freckles dotting their arms like raindrops, almost no muscle or physique to speak of on any of their limbs, though none of these things bothered them outright the thought that accompanied it did.

“Wrong.. Something is wrong…” Mori lets the words crackle out of their mouth, a quiet and reserved voice pouring out before the sound is cut off by Mori placing their hand over their mouth to feel their face, feeling familiar yet wrong all at once.

“Damn right something is wrong, you’re not where you’re supposed to be.” Frimpt shoots back over at Mori with a slight harshness to his ethereal voice, sending Mori to recoil back a little and hide themselves against the corner of the couch where they found themselves.

Frimpt looks down at Mori and wishes that he had given himself eyebrows to raise and eyes to roll as he sees the tiny mortal shake in their own skin, letting out a very put upon sigh as he holds out his hand and conjures a glass cup filled with water and a small pastry cut into a triangle, a sweet fruity fragrance emanating from the food.