Her words came out calm, smooth, as she always was. Drastic changes in emotion were left for others. Life had acceptance, it came from how much her existence covered. Beginnings came in all forms. Ends did too, in a way, but at the same time it still came to a similar stop.

“You do a good job at trying to forget my question.” Death propped his scythe in front of him, where the handle drove into the ground simply dying as he leaned his forearms upon the top of the blade. It would not cut him. It would not harm him in any way. He could do whatever he wished with that blade.

The grass between them was in an odd state of flux. Dead, closest to him. Living, closest to her. Dying, somewhere in the middle.

“How long have you been doing this all on your own again?” Death asked. “I thought you’d gotten used to that fluttering company of yours. Is that what’s distracted you?”

They were similar in this aspect, though Death had made his companion long before. The hound which helped him with his work. Life was enthralled in the impossibility of that. If she were to tell Death it was the same as him giving LIFE, he would deny it, but that is what he had done with the hound. Taken from himself and made something living, someone important to him, like him yet not. The hound could take some of the burden from Death’s shoulders, not that he had ever acted like it was a burden.

Life created so many things, allowed for so much more, but nothing she made could take any of her task. Not on the level at which she was. Every living being had the chance at adding a little, putting a small bit forward, but their amounts were microscopic in the whole. All together, they were important. Yet none of it was a stand in for Life. Life could not let anyone take her burden. She shouldered it alone.

Alone. A concept she used to not comprehend. It was such a mortal concept.