You'll See What I Mean

Like a mad bloodhound, the viper would stalk obediently?protectively at the heels of her only kin, staggering along their makeshift path with a lack of concern for the destination her brother had forged, undoubting of the bizarre brilliance he harbored beneath his stoic exterior. Frost would blossom from the imprints of her massive paws as she strode with the confident swagger of a drunken man, ember gaze inattentive to their surroundings as her pupils darted haphazardly about the winter scape, ravenous incisors clicking together to preoccupy herself as she waited?like the dog she was?for Osiris? word?his command to cease what felt to be their relentless journeying. He was death and she was his slave?his devoted hound that abided to his every whim so effortlessly for she had not the sense for independence; without the embodiment of death at her side, death would claim her soul like a thief in the night. She was dependent upon him as he was of her, and without the other, they would be nothing; there would be no Death without the Killer, and no motivation for the Killer without Death.


Death would grow sluggish in pace and, as if instinctual, so would the banshee, pupils locating his behemoth physique warily as she approached his right side, swaying even as she paused adjacent to him. A low whine would reverberate from her larynx, increasing in intensity as her slavering jaws unhinged to snap vehemently at the male?s upper-chest, teeth intending not to penetrate his flesh, but to serve as an ?affectionate? reminder that she was still present. ?This?here? We will haunt here? We will! Yes?here?they need us?here.? A vacant grin spread across her tainted countenance as her ember gaze bore in to the crystalline depths of Death?s, battered tail lashing like a pendulum behind her rump as if to confirm the words spoken.