«Little» problem

***

Torn clothes, heavy breathing along with battered bodies and tender wings. The blood of the innocents was everywhere, and they were the only two standing across from each other, the only ones who could do such a thing in a fit of rage. They both held huge scythes in their hands, matching their image. Death wipes the corner of her lips with the back of her hand, where a scarlet trickle runs down, and looks at Life with a tired grin. Her blue hair, stained with dust and other people’s blood, falls over her face, but it doesn’t hide the bright flame that burns in her eyes. Life is breathing heavily, her fingers gripping the handle of her scythe so tightly that her knuckles turn white. She sways on her feet, but does not take a step back. Her wings, which are tinted golden from the beautiful sunset behind the demoness, twitch but don’t fold — not now. - Still want to continue? — Death’s voice sounds hoarse, but there’s no mockery in it. Only weariness. Life squints a little. Her gaze slides over the wounds on Death’s body, her torn clothes, her tired movements and heavy breathing. Everything in her cries out for the scythe to be raised above her head again, for another blow… But her fingers loosen their grip in a moment. — You were so beautiful in battle, — she says almost in a whisper, lowering her gaze downward. Death blinks, looking at the angel in surprise, clearly not expecting such words for her. Afterward, a wry smile touches her lips. — You too, — she admits, and then does something she didn’t even expect: she lowers her scythe, touching the ground with its blade, but doesn’t let go. Life stares at her for a long time. So long that it seems like an eternity. And then her fingers unclench, and the weapon falls to the ground with a muffled sound. They stand amidst the destruction, amidst the aftermath of their own rage. Yes and now between them… That hatred began to fade. Only some flashes were rushing through their minds and bodies, wanting to continue, but both are almost running out of strength. Life exhales deeply, as if all her anger, all the tension, all that pushed her forward in this fight, is going out with that air. The scythe lies in a bloody puddle next to her ballet flats, similarly stained with scarlet liquid. Her legs are wobbling. She sinks heavily to her knees, her whitish, stained wings barely fluttering as if deciding whether to fold or not. A rest… wouldn’t hurt either. Not everyone can stand the strain of flight. Death stares at her with his usual indifference. For a long time, intently. And then he takes a few slow steps forward and, without a word, sits down on his knees across from her. He simply sits down on the ground with his scythe on his shoulder, his head bowed slightly, watching. Angel doesn’t look up. His breathing gradually evened out, his hands trembling, but not from rage-not from sheer fatigue. His body is slipping. — We shouldn’t have started this, — she finally exhales. Death hums, covering his eyes, as if not sure whether to answer. Then she leaned back lazily, resting her hand on her palm, and slowly ran a finger along the serrated blade of her scythe, which had already become like an old sword with serifs. — Maybe. But you wouldn’t have stopped first, would you? Life chuckles weakly, and it’s more like a bitter exhale. — And neither would you. Death doesn’t argue. They were too much alike in that.

***

A ruined temple in the middle of a world where death was never supposed to be. Here, among the marble columns strewn with shards, Death stepped where she had never dared before. Life stood in the midst of the ruins, breathing heavily, her wings shaking with exertion. Her eyes were filled with rage, not the kind that flares up suddenly, but the kind that builds up over too long and in an instant tears the chest from the inside out. — You’ve crossed the line, my friend. — Her voice was low, almost a growl. It was as if the monster that had been lurking inside her for a long time and wanted to come out was bursting out of her. Death, who was standing opposite, only raised an eyebrow. She twirled her braid lazily in her hand. There was not an ounce of regret in her gestures or facial expressions. — The border? — she stretched out, grinning. — You act like the world is yours alone, my dear. Life stepped forward. Her bare feet touched the stone, stained with the blood of mortals. — There should be no death here, — she said quietly but firmly. — You took those who were not yet to go. They had to live and live and live. And you… You took them on your own initiative, without asking anyone. Death sighed. The indifference in her voice was almost hurtful. Was it all fake? — They would have died anyway, — she shrugged. Tomorrow, a year from now, a century from now, it doesn’t matter. Life clenched her teeth, trying to suppress her inner aggression. — Uh-oh, it does matter, Death. It matters a great deal. She couldn’t take it. The anger that had been building up for too long burst out. The blue-eyed girl’s scythe began to shimmer brighter as she raised the scythe above her head and flew upward, trying to strike as fast as she could. Death recoiled. The loud, shrill ringing of the scythes touching made many who were sitting at home cringe, and cold sweat ran down their bodies. And the fight began. They fought as if they wanted to tear at the very fabric of the universe. Each of them believed that this was not just a battle. It was a war for the right to decide who should live and who should die. And each of them did not want to be defeated in this battle, which lasted a few hours, or even a day… A couple of days? Who knows? The scythes clashed again and again, slicing through the air with a bright whoosh, but none of them could strike a decisive blow. They knew each other too well — every movement, every swing of the weapon, every weakness that no one else had a clue about. Death moved quickly. Her steps were precise, almost lazy, but there was a sense of danger in them, like a predator’s. It was playing with its prey. One with which she was once again in conflict. Life was assertive. Blows were passed with fury, and her gaze filled with it, focusing on the girl across from her. Death’s scythe struck again and again at anyone worth approaching or appearing within range of their fight. Dead bodies again. Their wings kicked up dust, debris from the temple, and especially from the houses that were just within range of their scythes, fell around them, but they kept going. Fatigue was building up in both of them by now, that much was evident. They were both strong, but even strength has a limit. Their breathing was getting heavier, their movements losing their sharpness. Death slashed at the ground, tearing the stone slab as they returned to the temple, but did not reach Life. She, in turn, recoiled, but did not have time to counterattack — her fingers trembled, her grip loosened. Somewhere inside them, a feeling was growing that they tried not to notice. They certainly didn’t want this fight. It was hard for them to fight each other — not physically, but much deeper than that. Somewhere inside them. When their scythes crossed again, Life couldn’t take it. The blow was hard, but not enough to end it all. Her knees buckled, her body refusing to obey. She collapsed to the ground, her chest heaving heavily from her hitched breath. Death froze, looking down at her. A second passed. Another. Then Death lowered herself silently in front of her, resting her hands on her knees, and bowed her head. There was no gloating or triumph in her gaze. Only a slight shadow of weary understanding. — Next? — she asked. Life was silent. She didn’t know the exact answer to that question… But here came a new blow, with a new force, it was worth it to settle down a little, to bow her head on the floor and come to her senses a little, saying a prayer. Again the girls moved into the fray. After the battle. Life was breathing heavily, shoulders heaving in an uneven rhythm, wings still fluttering, showering the ground with fine feathers. Death sat across from him, head slightly bowed, not showing an ounce of emotion. The silence was crushing. - Aren’t you going to ask why I started this? — Life’s voice sounded muffled, as if all her strength had gone with the fight. She asked it when she began to feel a little better. But the cats were scratching at her soul… And it was empty. Death ran a finger along the blade of her scythe, as if pondering. - I know,” she finally answered. — You wanted to stop me. Life closed her eyes, tiredness lurking in the corners, and exhaled. - And I couldn’t. Death snorted at those words. - And so did I. They both knew it. They fought, putting everything they could into the battle, but in the end they were left here, sitting here in front of each other among the ruins of the houses and the temple they’d created. No one won. No one lost. - Everything is pointless, — Life muttered, looking at the ground between them and all that was cracked. The feet of both were already covered in the blood of innocent parishioners and humans. - Did they? — Death leaned forward slightly, leaning on her elbow. — You had fought, hadn’t you? So it made some sense. Life looked at her. There was no coldness in Death’s eyes, nor the usual indifference. Just calm. And such a strange… - You won’t cross the border again? — she asked quietly, trying to find out from the girl what she was thinking. Especially to take the answer from her eyes… at least a good one. But Death couldn’t answer anything with her eyes. She only smiled slightly — with just the corners of her lips, almost imperceptibly. - You know I can’t promise that, don’t you? Life closed her eyes and shook her head. - Of course. But this time there was no anger or accusation in her voice. Only weariness and a strange, quiet understanding. The demoness looked at Life without her usual indifference. Her posture remained lazy, relaxed, but her gaze was intense, studying. Life sat with her head slightly lowered, looking at the cracks in the stone. Fatigue still hung in the air, but the anger had already faded away, leaving behind an emptiness. No one spoke for a long time, but Death was the first to break the silence: - You need to rest. To which Life grinned bitterly. - After all this? — she weakly waved her hand, pointing at the ruined columns, at the dark bloodstains, at the ashes still swirling in the air. Death bowed her head slightly. - You are tired. And so am I. Life wanted to object, but she felt her shoulders breaking, how hard it was to move. She took a deep breath, but instead of words, she pressed her fingers into the fabric of her torn clothes. - I still can’t forgive you, — she said muffled, not looking up. — Anytime soon… You realize that. And… maybe yes, I should get some rest. Death shrugged her shoulder lightly. - I don’t need your forgiveness. Angel looked at her. - Then what do you need? Death didn’t answer right away. She ran her fingers along the blade of her braid, as if she were thinking. - I don’t know,” she finally admitted. — But I know I don’t want to fight you again. Life stared at her for a few seconds, then closed her eyes tiredly. - And I don’t want to. Death exhaled quietly, bowing her head. This was neither victory nor defeat. Just a point in their battle that they both came to, too exhausted to continue. The dust was settling, the wind was no longer so harsh. The smell of iron still lingered sharply in their nostrils as they sat in the rubble, close to their weapons. The world they had destroyed was slowly coming to rest as the two parts of it in the form of an angel and a demon just sat in front of each other, knowing they would face each other again someday. But not now. Not today. They should really rest. At home, Life lay on her bed, not wanting to talk to anyone. Fate, who had come to check on her, tried to be gentle, but to admonish her friend that despite being friends… they were like their mothers. And that there was no need to fear such a change, as the past lords of life had also grown to dislike each other over time.

***

Time passed, but neither Death nor Life could just forget what had happened. They still crossed paths, gingerly at first, almost reluctantly, but again and again they met each other’s disdainful gazes. And just as at first, each new conversation was drenched in tension. In a small amount of time they had gotten used to being adversaries, used to one always following the other. And it didn’t matter that they were already starting to copy their own parents, that they couldn’t stand each other either. - You’ve crossed the line again, — Life said, clenching her fists as she watched Death tear the soul out of the man again, sending it straight into Hades' hands. - It’s inevitable, — Death replied with a slight indifference, bowing her head slightly. But she was, in a way, glad of her job…. Life hated it. That calm, cold voice of hers, that manner of speaking as if nothing mattered. She hated it, but she couldn’t turn away. All that was left was to watch and… endure. On another day of another week, when she had to start her duties again, Life stayed at home. For the umpteenth time, she didn’t care what her old acquaintance was up to. She didn’t care who flew past her windows and knocked on her door trying to talk to her. Destiny, appearing out of nowhere, sat down next to her. She stared intently at the angel, propping her head up with her fist. - So what are we doing doing nothing and lying here again? Again “no strength”? — she asked sarcastically. - What do you care… I don’t care about her antics anymore. And I don’t care how many innocent souls I’ll have to clean up after her, who shouldn’t have fallen into that abyss of oblivion. - Ooh…I see. Life rolled over onto her back, looking up at the ceiling. Fate was silent for a while, watching her with her usual mocking smile, but her eyes didn’t have their former lightness. Life looked…empty. Not angry, not exhausted, but empty, as if there was nothing left inside her. - Do you really think you don’t care? — Destiny finally said, tilting her head slightly. — Just don’t care about her. Life didn’t answer. Just blinked, continuing to stare at the ceiling. - You’re not like that,” Fate continued, snapping her fingers, making the dust in the air swirl, shimmering in the light like a thousand diamonds. — You were always pushing forward, fighting, arguing with her, even when no one believed it made sense. Life took a deep breath as she listened to the archangel’s words. - That was the mistake,” she said, barely moving her lips. There was practically no strength for anything. - A mistake? — Fate interjected. — What was? Believing in her? That she’d change at your first word… Life squeezed her fingers, pressing them into the bed. - To believe that she can be changed. That she was even capable of… understanding. — Fate didn’t laugh, didn’t mock her with words. She just shrugged, looking at the way Life was uncomfortable with her words. Probably the truth, too. - Death will always be Death, that’s true,” she said thoughtfully, lowering her hand next to Life’s, stroking her shoulder, trying to reassure her. — But you haven’t changed either, despite everything she’s done. Remember days like this? Life glanced at her. - What are you trying to tell me with that? — Destiny smiled wider. - That you’re running away from her again. Only this time, not forward, but backward. Angel sat up sharply, almost hitting her head on Destiny, but Destiny just smirked, not pulling away. And she didn’t pull away from the girl, clearly looking into the dim blue eyes. - I’m not running from her. - Then why are you here and not there? With her? Life wanted to tell me it didn’t matter. That everything was already decided, that there was no point in going back to something that couldn’t be changed. But the words stuck in her throat. Because somewhere deep down inside she knew Fate was right. And the moment a quiet knock sounded somewhere outside the door, followed by a painfully familiar voice saying her name, she realized she couldn’t just turn away. Life walked to the door and opened it, eyeing the blue-clad lady who came in with an indifferent gaze. Death stood on the threshold, looking as calm and unperturbed as ever. Her long blue robes swayed gently in the slight draft, and her eyes reflected the darkness of countless eternities. - You look terrible,” she remarked, peering unceremoniously at Life. - And you look the same as always,” Life replied dryly, leaning her head to the side without moving. There was silence between them. Death made no attempt to enter, but she didn’t leave either. It just stared at her, as if trying to see something behind the indifferent mask. - You didn’t come,— Death said at last, calmly, without accusation, but with the same easy tone that always irritated Life. — I’m tired, — came the reply, almost emotionless. — That’s an excuse. — And if it is? Death sighed, bowing his head slightly. — Then I’ll ask it another way. Do you want me to leave? Life stared at her for a long moment. The door between them remained open, but it was as if it were an invisible barrier that neither dared to cross. — I don’t know, — she answered honestly. — Then I’ll wait until you find out, — Death said calmly and stepped forward and walked easily inside as if she had been allowed to. Life didn’t stop her. She herself didn’t know why. Letting her enter, the girl called over to the table to pour some tea. Death didn’t refuse, taking one of her favorite mugs for herself. Destiny moved closer to them, sitting down next to the angel to follow her. — Would you leave us alone for a while? — Life looked at the lady with the laurel sprig in her ear. — Maybe. I’ll stay outside for now, — the archangel replied. Taking some treats and tea, she went outside to walk around and get some fresh air, leaving the girls alone. Life put her head down on the table, stretching. — I’m sick and tired of everything that’s going on between us. Death… it’s just awful. She clenched her fists and pressed her nose into the wood, exhaling heavily. — What did you think? — Death replied calmly. — There has always been and will always be conflict between us. It’s inevitable. After all, as you yourself once said, angels don’t like us demons. And we… like everyone else. We don’t like each other. — Yes, but… — Life was silent, her voice growing quieter. — I think we’re becoming like our mothers. Only without our children. Death raised an eyebrow questioningly, looking at the girl who was terribly tired of mental torment, who just wanted to be pretty and take a break from everything that existed between them. She only grinned. And finally something began to change. — That’s for fucking sure. You and I are like our parents. We’re like bitches. — You’re fucking serious… — the golden-haired girl raised her head and spoke. She was angry at Death, but she couldn’t say anything else. She didn’t want to start a fight in the house, though she was itching to hit her. — Really, why me? Besides, what do you say to the fact that a lot of people tried to talk sense into them. And they were just like we are now. — How can you know that? You were only four years old then! — But you were already a little smart. The rest was rumor, charm, that’s all. Information about our families spread quickly to my ears. Life just sighed sadly. Death watched her, head slightly bowed. — So you’re afraid of repeating their mistakes? — she asked thoughtfully, crossing her arms over her chest. — Am I understanding you correctly? Life covered her eyes, resting her head on the table again. — I’m afraid we’re already repeating them, — she replied quietly. There was silence in the room. Deaath didn't answer right away. Instead, she took a couple steps to the window, glancing outside. She watched as all the winged ones wandered around the city, peacefully spending their time in the heavens. The rest of them were minding their own business, some were even sitting in their rooms, passionately writing something, or even telling someone something. — You always think too much, — she said at last. — And I think too little. So much for balance. Life humme d, but without mockery. — If only it were that easy. — Try it. Just stop being afraid. Life looked up at her with a look of fatigue and disbelief. — Are you suggesting we forget everything? - she asked. Death turned away from the window and slowly came closer, leaning her hip against the table. — No, — she answered calmly. - I suggest we stop holding on to the past. Whether we think about it or not is entirely up to us. Life averted her gaze. She wasn't sure if she could. But there was something in Death's words that made her wonder. And Life stood up from the table with a tired, guttural sigh. She walked over to the window just as Death did, also looking out at everyone passing by. And in a way, both girls began to relax, realizing that their speeches, their conversations at the moment helped them make some sense of things. That fight hadn't left Life's mind for some time now, and she looked away and frowned. She didn't even hear the winged beast come up to her, hugging her from behind, making her wince. — Back off... No hug right now. But the angel still snuggled into the stranger's chest and her back, despite what she had just said. That made the demoness smile. Leaning down to the girl's ear, she kissed her softly and then moved to her cheekbone, where she also left a light kiss and a lipstick mark. Death wanted to make it up to her for being the way she was now. This moment made both of them forget for a while. — Dopey...— Life muttered, pushing Death's face away from her that she didn't dare to move away from. She was also hiding her blush. And coming out of the embrace, she let them both finish their tea. And then, as soon as it was dark, they finally separated. They didn't even talk about that small intimate moment anymore. Though... Perhaps there would be more such moments. In the meantime, what was burning brightly in their hearts began to fade away.